Hades tried to remain silent again.

“What else, Hades?” she demanded.

“Everything you’ve ever feared,” he answered, and she shivered. “Assassins, drug lords….”

Persephone felt the color drain from her face.

“Why?”

“I created a world where I could watch them.”

“Watch them do what? Break the law? Hurt people?”

“Yes,” he answered, his voice was gritty.

“Yes? That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“For now,” he said, his voice tightened, and his chest rose and fell with his anger, but instead of leaving, he moved toward her. She held her ground, unafraid. Lifting her chin and glaring at him.

“Who brought you here?” he asked.

“A taxi.”

“You think I won’t find out?”

“I have free will. I chose to come here of my own accord.”

“A choice that cannot go unpunished,” he said, and reached for her.

Instinctually, Persephone pushed his hands away. His eyes gleamed. “Are you telling me no?”

She knew if she said no, he would stop, but she couldn't deny she wanted to see his punishment through. It would mean intense pleasure and it would be angry and rough and primal, and she needed release.

She shook her head once, and then Hades spun her around to face the mirrored wall. She used it for support as he bent her forward and watched him in the reflection. He nudged her legs apart and lifted her skirt, eyes hungry.

His hand brushed across her skin, and then he swatted her ass. She yelped, more from surprise than pain, and Hades glanced up, meeting her gaze in the mirror before drawing her underwear to her ankles, and helping her step out of them. Her core tightened in anticipation as he shoved them in his pocket.

She gasped when his hand dipped between her thighs, her back arched as his fingers teased. She was molten for him—she didn’t even need the foreplay.

Hades inhale was a hiss. “So fucking wet. How long have you been like this?”

A moan stuck in her throat as she answered.

“Since I got here,” she said. “I wanted you on the dance floor. I willed you to manifest from the dark, but you weren’t there.”

“I’m here now,” he said, and bent to kiss her shoulder, down her back, and then her bottom all the while his finger curled, going deeper while his other hand worked her clit in soft, aching circles. She could barely breathe, focusing on the feel of him inside her, mindless with need.

“Hades,” she begged. “Please.”

He withdrew and Persephone gave a frustrated cry. She started to twist toward him. She felt rabid. She needed release and if he would not offer it, she would chase it herself.

But Hades’ hands clamped down on her hips.

“Stay,” he commanded, and she glared at him in the mirror.