The Goddess Test Boxed Set: Goddess Interrupted\The Goddess Inheritance\The Goddess Legacy (96 page)

“Actually, you didn't,” he said, shuffling his feet. “You said
we were over, but—”

“And we are, so you have no business here,” I snapped. His
expression crumpled.

“Persephone, come on. I'm sorry. It was just once—”

“And I happened to peek in at the exact wrong moment?”

“You never said I couldn't see anyone else during the
winter.”

“I never said you could, either.”

He exhaled. “What's really bothering you? Did you have a fight
with Hades?”

I stared at him. He really didn't get it, did he? “What's
bothering
me is the fact that out of all the girls and
goddesses in the world, you had to sleep with Aphrodite.”

“And what's wrong with her?”

“She's
Aphrodite
. She has Ares, she
has Hephaestus, she has every damn person she wants. You're mine. You're the
only person I have, and she—she steals you like it's no big deal—”

“Nobody stole me.” He knelt down in front of my chair, careful
not to touch me. “I'm still yours. I'll always be yours, and I'm sorry about
being with Aphrodite. You're right, it wasn't fair to you, and I should've asked
you first.”

I took a deep, shaky breath. “It doesn't matter. We're
over.”

“Persephone—”

“No.” I stood and moved around him, narrowly avoiding kneeing
him in the chin. “I was happy because of you, and I can't be that happy ever
again, not when I know what you did with her. You stole that from me—you
both
stole that from me, and I will never forgive you
for it.”

“Persephone, come on, don't be like this—”

“Don't be like what? Angry? Upset? Hurt?” I whirled around to
face him. “Why did you do it? Out of all the girls you could've slept with, why
her?”

He hesitated, looking to his left for a moment. “Because—I
don't know, all right? It's Aphrodite. If she wants you, you can't say no.”

I balled my hands into fists. “Wrong answer.”

As I stormed toward the door, the sound of his footsteps
scrambling behind me echoed through the long room. “I'm sorry, all right? She
was there, you weren't, and it isn't fair, but it won't happen again. Ever. I
love you.”

“If you really loved me, you would've never touched her in the
first place.” I flung open the door. “Hades would've never done that to me.”

I glanced over my shoulder in time to see the stunned look on
his face. “Hades? You're really going to compare me to Hades now? You don't even
love him. You don't even want to be with him.”

“If you're my only other option, then maybe he isn't so bad
after all,” I snapped. “Leave, Hermes. I don't want you here anymore.”

With as much dignity as I could muster, I walked out of the
room and down the spiral staircase that led to the lower floors. My eyes brimmed
with tears, but by the time I reached my destination, I'd blinked them away
without shedding a single one. Hermes wasn't worth it. I would've given him
everything, but if he couldn't spare me honesty or fidelity—

I was an idiot for expecting him to stick with me. No one ever
did. Not even Mother had much love left for me anymore, not after my failed
marriage and centuries of being with Hermes. The only constants in my life were
the seasons and Hades. No matter what I did to him, no matter how I acted, he
was there for me without complaint. Always.

I should have loved him. I should've loved him so much that I
ached over the thought of having hurt him. I wanted to so badly that part of me
did, but that wall was still there, preventing anything real.

I hated that wall, and if it were possible, I would've ripped
it down with my bare hands. Loving Hades should've been the easiest thing I'd
ever done. He was a good man. Better than me, better than Hermes, better than
every god and goddess who dared to call themselves Olympians. In a pit of deceit
and jealousy, he was the one thing that hadn't been tainted by time. And I'd
hurt him again and again.

Without bothering to knock, I burst into Hades's chambers. He
sat at his desk, shuffling through scrolls and parchment, and he looked up as I
strode over to him. “Persephone?” he said, a hint of confusion in his voice. No
wonder, either, since I hadn't stepped foot in his chambers since our wedding
night. “To what do I owe—”

Before he could finish, I crawled into his lap and kissed him.
Not the kind of hesitant kiss we'd shared few times before, but the burning
kisses I'd shared with Hermes. The kind that filled me with fire,
all-encompassing and eternal. The kind that begged for more no matter how much
I'd already fed it. It was the kind of kiss that no one, not even Hades, could
ignore.

And he didn't. For a long moment, he didn't move—he didn't
touch me, he didn't kiss me back, he didn't react at all. But at last his hands
found my hips, and his lips moved against mine with equal fervor.

That wall inside me loomed, as dark and resentful as before,
but despite the way my entire body screamed for me to stop, I kept going. His
touch burned my skin, and that hatred wrapped around me so completely that I
could barely breathe. But I needed this. I needed to be loved, even if the only
person who could do it was the man I couldn't stand.

“Bed,” I whispered between kisses, leaving no room for
negotiating. He lifted me up without protest, and I wrapped my legs around his
waist as he carried me across the room. I'd sworn to myself I would never go
back here, but as he laid me down amongst the silk, I steeled myself against my
body's protests and pulled him down with me.

I don't know how long we kissed—long enough for both of us to
get undressed, long enough for us to be seconds away from doing something
neither of us had thought we'd ever do again. But before we got that far, Hades
broke the kiss, his eyes searching mine.

“You're sure?” he whispered, and after a split second, I forced
myself to nod. He loved me—I could see it in the way he looked at me, feel it in
the way he touched me, everything. He loved me in a way Hermes never would, and
I was an idiot for throwing all of that away without even trying. I knew what
love was supposed to feel like now, and I could have that with Hades if I tried.
I just had to want it bad enough.

He kissed me again, gentler this time, but he still didn't
close the gap between us. “Why now?” he murmured, brushing his lips against the
curve of my neck. I let out a frustrated groan.

“Because—because,” I said, my voice breaking. “Because I want
to, and you love me, and—can't we at least try?”

Hades pulled away enough to look me in the eye. “And what about
Hermes?”

I swallowed, and something must have flickered across my face,
because Hades frowned. “It's over with him,” I said. “Please, can't we
just…?”

“Do you love me?” he whispered. I blinked.

“I—I want to.” I ran my hand down his bare arm, feeling the
muscle beneath his warm skin. “Please give me the chance to try.”

He exhaled deeply, as if he'd been holding in a breath for
eternity. “I made that mistake once.” He kissed me again, this time with aching
gentleness. “I will not make it again.”

Suddenly the weight of his body was gone, and he turned away to
put his clothes back on. I lay there, exposed and shivering in the open air, and
the tears I'd been holding back all evening finally broke through. “Don't you
love me?”

He flinched, staring at the floor. “I love you, Persephone.
More than my own existence. But it is because I love you so much that I cannot
do this. In time, if we were to take this slowly, I would be honored. Under
these circumstances, when I am nothing but a release to you…” He shook his head.
“I'm sorry.”

I opened my mouth to tell him he was so much more than a
release, but I couldn't force the lie out. If anything, he wasn't even that. He
was a way for me to feel loved. A way to get back at Hermes. And I didn't care
if it made things worse, so long as the pain of Hermes's betrayal
disappeared.

But whether I wanted to admit it to myself or not, that wound
was far too deep for anything to mask it, even sleeping with Hades. I
hurt
in a way I'd never hurt before, and Hermes had
created a gaping hole in my chest that nothing could fill. I curled up in a
ball, not caring that I was still naked, and I let out a choked sob. Hades must
have been halfway to his desk by then, but instantly he touched my back. It was
a comforting gesture, not a romantic one, and it was something I desperately
needed.

“You're all right,” he murmured, and he wrapped a blanket
around me. “Everything will be okay.”

He could say that as much as he wanted, but he didn't know. He
couldn't. I buried my face in his pillow, making a mess of the deep blue silk,
but he didn't seem to mind. Instead he lay down beside me and gathered me up in
a gentle embrace. “It will get easier,” he murmured. “It may not feel like it
now, but it will.”

That only made me cry harder. Of course he knew what this was
like. I'd done this to him again and again throughout our marriage, and never,
not once, had he broken down in front of me. He'd kept that pain bottled up,
refusing to take it out on me no matter how much I may have deserved it. Between
him and Hermes, there was no contest. Hades would've never been with Aphrodite.
He would've never even thought about her that way. He would've been there for me
every moment of every day—he
had
been there for me,
and I'd just never seen it before.

And now that I did, now that my eyes were open and I finally
understood, I couldn't be with him. I'd messed it all up. I'd hurt him too badly
for us to ever move beyond it. And that wall of hatred and resentment—it would
never disappear. Whatever was causing it, whatever had made me feel that way to
begin with, we were long past the point of fixing it. That wall was as much a
part of me as Hades's love for me was a part of him. There was no getting around
it no matter how hard I tried. If sheer willpower alone could've made it
crumble, I would've managed that a long time ago.

Eventually I fell asleep, and during the night, Hades never
left my side. When I awoke, his arms were still wrapped around me, and his eyes
were open. He'd spent the entire night holding me, knowing we could never be
together the way he wanted, knowing I would almost certainly go out and hurt him
again as soon as the pain from Hermes's betrayal healed.

No. I wouldn't. Not this time. Hades had already given up too
much for me, and no matter how miserable I was, even if it meant an eternity
alone, I would never let that wall—I would never let
myself—
hurt him again.

* * *

Centuries passed, and then eons. Every spring equinox,
Hermes was there waiting for me when Hades dropped me off, and I walked past him
without a word every single time. Eventually we began to exchange glances, and
then smiles; after the first thousand years, he finally came to visit me one
summer, and we spent the day tending the garden with my mother. Although we
began to talk again, it was never as anything more than uneasy friends.

Without Hermes's companionship, my summers weren't much better
than my winters anymore. Hades built me several homes scattered across the
world, and while I visited each and admired them all, my summers always began
and ended at my mother's cottage. But over time, she grew increasingly distant.
Some summers she could pretend nothing was wrong, but I still felt the heat of
her disappointment when she thought I wasn't paying attention. Every glance,
every absent hug and kiss—I felt them all, and they wore me down faster than my
winter tomb ever could.

Hades and I never became anything more than we were, though I
kept my promise to myself: I didn't cheat on him again. And that faithfulness
gave me what small amount of happiness I could find. I'd made mistakes, I'd been
a terrible person, but I could at least give Hades my loyalty now. We ruled
together, side by side, and we may not have been deliriously happy, but we were
content. I grew better at appreciating the small things, finding joy in our
routines, and eventually I accepted my fate. This was my life, and the time to
change it had long since passed.

All of that shattered the day I saw him.

I was up in the observatory, but instead of watching the
afterlives of the dead, I'd let my mind wander to the surface. Though I would've
rather died than admit it to anyone, occasionally, when I was at my worst, I
watched Aphrodite. While I languished in loneliness, she had lover after lover,
a whole host of men who would have died for her—and some who really did. She had
everything I wanted, and no matter how I tried to console myself, my hatred for
her only grew.

But I never stopped watching her. Sometimes to live vicariously
through her; sometimes to convince myself that I had it better. I didn't, of
course, but once in a while I'd stumble across moments that let me fool myself
into believing it, if only for a short while.

This wasn't one of those moments. As the last vestiges of
sunset stretched across the horizon, Aphrodite splashed in the ocean with the
most beautiful man I'd ever seen. He was tall and strong, his face perfectly
proportioned and his coloring fair. His smile seemed brighter than the sun, and
when he glanced in my direction—unable to see me, of course, but still—my heart
pounded, and warmth filled me from head to toe. It was the way Hermes had made
me feel so many lifetimes ago. The way I wanted Hades to make me feel.