Page 17 of The Games Gods Play
I shouldn’t be here.
I am the last person who should be here. There must be a way out of this.
“I’m…” I’m what? Sorry? Terrified? Suffer from wrong-place-wrong-time syndrome?
Before I can pick the right words, Hades blocks my view and says, “We don’t have long. I need you to listen.”
9
Taunting Gods
I swallow what I was going to say next, fear snaking up my spine. “O—kay.” I draw the word out, my eyes darting around for whomever is apparently coming for us.
One eyebrow lifts, probably at my immediate agreement, but Hades doesn’t comment. “What I’ve gotten us involved in is…important.”
Choosing a new ruler of the gods? I would say so, but I don’t get the impression that’s what he means. “Important how?”
He shakes his head. “The less you know, the better. The only information you need right now is that until the end of the Crucible…”
I blink at him. “Until the end… What?”
He searches my gaze for a beat. “You are mine.”
My throat tightens in immediate reaction even as my foolish stomach decides to flutter. I’ve never been anyone’s. And, despite recent events, I have feelings for Boone. There should be no fluttering.
“We need to present a united front if you want to win. Understand?”
I shake my head. “I don’t understand anything. Why the united front?”
“You’ll find that out in a moment. But before the others get here, I’ll make you a deal… Win and I’ll remove your curse.”
He might as well have slapped me. I jerk back so fast I stumble, and he grabs my hand to keep me upright. He can do that? I can lose my curse?
I’m still processing this when the rest of the deities and their chosen champions arrive without so much as a whisper of sound. One second, we’re alone. The next, we’re not.
And they’re all staring at our hands.
Instead of dropping his hold, Hades steps closer to me and turns so we both face the new arrivals. I get the impression that he’s looking each and every one of the other gods and goddesses directly in the eyes, his own like chips of ice.
Is he daring them to stop him? To protest? To speak up?
They don’t.
Not even Zeus, despite the glaring and crackling. Then again, Hades threw down a gauntlet to his brother in front of the entire world.
Hera stands closest to us. Elegantly regal, Zeus’ long-suffering spouse is dressed in intricately decorated, layered golden armor over a lavender undergown. A swift look around tells me all the gods and goddesses are in armor now, Zeus included.
Meanwhile, the mortal standing beside Hera appears to be the youngest one here. Sixteen at most, with a chiseled chin stuck out at an arrogant angle that I think might be covering fear. He’s dressed in a deep-purple suit with an impressive overcoat that has tails that sweep the ground. Gold laurel leaves nestle in his dark, silky hair.
I glance around, and sure enough, all the mortals are decked out in fancy clothes in colors matching their gods—green, purple, turquoise, and burgundy.
What color did I get?
I drop my gaze, and irritation rises then falls in a way that is all too familiar. While everyone else is clothed in splendor, I’m still in my jeans and T-shirt. Marked as separate, yet again.
“Hey.” I gesture to myself and then at the others.
Hades looks me over with blank, uncaring eyes. “You’re fine.”
