Persephone stalked around the crowded card tables. The room was dark despite a large chandelier overhead and several intricate sconces lining the walls. Persephone’s first visit to the suite sealed her fate. She’d been enamored by the people and games, she’d reveled in watching the cards fly across the table, the ease with which men and women interacted and teased, and then she’d come to a poker table where she’d sat and met the King of the Underworld.

Even now, recalling how he’d looked up close for the first time made her stomach clench tight. He was a tangible shadow, built like a fortress, and he’d crashed into her life like a force of nature. She couldn’t shake him and, in truth, hadn’t wanted to. From the moment she’d laid eyes on him, he’d ignited something inside her. It felt like fire, but it was his darkness calling to hers.

She knew that now—felt it in her blood and bones—as she melded with the darkness in the room and found the passage that led to a series of suites where mortals waited to bargain with Hades. They were all named after precious stones—sapphire and emerald and diamond, each one decorated in the associated colors. They were beautiful rooms, offering a sense of grandeur, communicating to all who entered that if they played their cards right—literally—perhaps they, too, could obtain something just as extravagant.

Persephone found the sapphire lounge and when she entered, a man sat opposite Hades. The mortal looked to be in his early twenties. Persephone used to wonder how people so young could end up across from the God of the Dead, but disease of any kind did not discriminate. Whatever he was here for made him defensive, because he turned in his chair to see who had interrupted his game and said, “If it’s him you want, you’ll have to wait your turn. Took me three years to get this appointment.”

Hades gaze melded to her. Despite his elegant appearance, he was predatory. He sat with his back straight, fingers clasped around a glass of whiskey. To the untrained eye, he probably looked relaxed, but Persephone knew by his expression that he was on edge. Probably because of her. She didn’t have to say anything for him to understand she was angry. Her glamour was failing, she could feel it melting away, revealing holes in her mortal facade.

“Leave, mortal,” she said. The command must have shaken the man because he wasted no time raced out of the suite. Persephone slammed the door.

“I’ll have to erase his memory. Your eyes are glowing,” he smirked. “Who angered you?”

“Can you not guess?” She asked.

Hades raised a brow.

“I just had the pleasure of meeting your lover.”