Page 9 of The Games Gods Play
He lifts a single eyebrow, and I get the message. Trying not to clench my teeth, I refuse to think about how Hades is only the second person I’ve ever shared this with.
After taking a deep breath, I say in a rush, “Twenty-three years ago, when I was still in my mother’s womb, she and my father came here to make an offering and pray for blessings on the birth. Her water broke, and your brother apparently took offense at her defiling his sacred sanctuary. As punishment, he cursed her baby—me, as it happens—that no one would ever love me. There. End of story.”
His gaze turns colder, so calculating that I take a step back.
“He made you unlovable?” he asks as though he isn’t quite sure he believes me.
I give a jerking nod.
That curse is why my parents gave me up. They said it was the debt, but I know otherwise. It landed me in the Order of Thieves at three years old. It’s why I have no ride-or-die friends. It’s why Boone…
Up until tonight, I’ve tried to convince myself that things could have been worse. I mean, I could have ended up as kraken fodder or with snakes for hair and stone statues as my friends.
But it led me to this moment. Facing a different god. A worse god.
One who obviously finds my curse interesting. Why? Because Zeus gave it to me? The current King of the Gods is a dick. That’s one thing Hades also agrees with me on. The question is, what is he going to do with me now?
Hades waves a hand at me, the action almost languid. “You may go.”
I may—
Wait… What?
5
Never Ask A God Why
“I can…go? Really—”
Hades lifts his eyebrows slowly. “You wish to argue?”
“No.” Never look a gift horse in the mouth…or a gift getaway in the escape hatch.
“This way,” he says.
He heads toward a path that takes us a different way down the mountain. I guess I’m supposed to follow? Hades prowls when he walks. I focus on his boots, because staring at his back—those leather straps do meet between his shoulder blades—or his perfectly formed ass, for that matter, just isn’t an option.
I hold my breath, every inch of me prickling with uncomfortable awareness that only grows as I keep up with him. It’s the whole “raw power of the gods” thing. That’s the only reason for the prickles, I tell myself.
I’m not sure I believe me.
We walk in silence until a sidewalk paralleling the main street comes into view. Along with crowds. I stop walking. He stops, too, glancing back. “Problem?”
“Um…” I stare past him, and he follows my gaze. Three more feet and everyone will be able to see us together. See me…with the god of freaking death.
“Don’t worry about them,” he says as though reading my mind. “Only you can see who I truly am. Everyone else just sees a regular mortal man.”
Right. Awesome. Except the pledges still hanging around this place might see me with a strange man and ask questions. Can I get out of this?
“Come on.”
I guess I can’t.
We emerge onto the teeming sidewalk, and I pause. Should I say goodbye before we part…or something?
I offer him a small salute. “I appreciate you not smiting me.”
I think I’m home free as I turn to walk away, but he spins me toward him by the shoulders, grip firm. Suddenly, I’m staring up into eyes of swirling, molten metal, but burning. The way coal burns black.
