Page 93 of The Games Gods Play
That much, I’m well aware of.
Charon leans closer. “You’ll be punished if the Daemones even discover you have those. I mean it. Only if you have no other option.”
Hades didn’t tell me that bit. “Okay.”
He frowns at me. I stare back.
“What’s the other thing?” I ask to break the awkwardness.
Charon tips his head, searching my expression like he’s trying to determine if he should tell me or not. “Hades values loyalty above all else.”
“Loyalty.” I glance away, letting my gaze skate over the fluorescing waters and ceiling. Loyalty sounds like Hades.
“He doesn’t give his trust easily.” That has the tone of a warning. “He’s had two friends in his entire existence, and one of them is me.”
“Three.” All of Cerberus’ heads correct Charon in unison.
Charon flicks the dog an amused glance. “Three.” He gives Cerberus’ paw a pat, and the hellhound snorts a small flame out of Ber’s nostrils but relaxes.
I notice through all this that Charon doesn’t mention the other friend. I’m guessing Persephone. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because Hades is a total dick—”
My brows lower, and my spine cracks straight as I glare at him. “Yes, he is, but as his supposed friend, I’d expect you to have more—”
“Loyalty?” Charon cuts me off to ask with a delighted grin.
Was he testing me?
I’m still buzzing with whatever ill-advised snap of anger overtook me just then. Why would I give a flying flip what Charon says about Hades? “I don’t like tests.”
Charon shrugs. “I’d have been more subtle if I had more time. And I’m telling you because I suspect Hades could…come to think of you as a friend, too.”
He might as well have slapped me. The impact would have been the same.
Then he glances over my shoulder and smiles. “Isn’t that right?”
“I don’t need your help finding friends.” Hades’ distinct growl slides through the darkness and over my skin in a delicious shiver that skims and caresses and awakens as it goes.
He kneels in front of me, running his hands over my body like he did after Poseidon’s Labor. This time there’s an underlying disquiet to his actions and his pinched expression. “Are you hurt?”
“Probably.”
“I’m not in the mood, Lyra. Answer the question.”
“I’m serious. I think I’m in shock. Nothing feels like it’s critical, though.”
He grits his jaw, but he nods, still checking me over. He works his way up my arms, then brushes my wet hair back and hisses. And that’s when I see it. Concern. Real concern. I know because I’ve dreamed of someone—my parents, Boone, even Felix—looking at me like that all my life. It darkens his eyes in a way that sends my heart tumbling.
He brushes his fingertip over a spot at my temple, and I wince at the pain that slices through my head at that touch.
“Sorry,” he murmurs.
But he doesn’t stop, threading his fingers through my hair, checking for more places I bumped into rocks. And it takes every ounce of my feeble self-control to not let either man know what I just realized.
Hades might take up all the air in the room, and he’s arrogant and bossy, not to mention secretive and closed off. Plus there’s that nasty temper. And he dragged me into the Crucible. But…I like him.
I like who he is.
