Page 6 of Summer's Seduction
“Fuck off,” I seethed.
“Only if you help,” he smirked.
I stopped and turned, glaring up into his golden eyes. Morpheus was everything I hated. He was rich and protected and given everything on a silver platter. He was the sole prince of The Sleeping Kingdom and the rightfulfucking kingof The Nightmare Kingdom since the original line had died out. If he genuinely was against Hypnos, he would’ve acted by now. Gods know that I would’ve used every ounce of power at my disposal the moment it grazed my fingertips.
But he did nothing. And he wanted me to believe he was on my side? That he could fathom one shred of what it meant to live the life I had?
“I don’t know how you’ve managed to convince anyone here to trust you, but I’m not that fucking stupid,” I seethed, putting every ounce of venom I could muster into my words. “All I see when I look at you is a spoiled, rich brat who thinks a bad fuck,or a ruined high is the worst thing that can happen in life. You’re nothing to take seriously. Your daddy didn’t tell you he loved you? Tough shit. Grow the fuck up.”
My chest heaved as I spit the words, the twisting in my stomach growing tighter with each breath. With each flinch that crossed his face. Ignoring the gnawing weight of guilt and shame clawing at me, I turned. This time, when I stepped past Morpheus, he didn’t stop me.
He deserved it… Didn’t he?The sun had only just set, and he was already drunk, partying the day away without a care as the world burned. So, why had he looked like I’d shredded him? It had to be an act.
The throne room came into view, meaning the front door to the palace was just beyond. Not my first choice, but I was running out of time.
Picking up my pace, I prayed no one heard my footsteps echoing as I neared. The black decor was woven with an abundance of gilded flowers and priceless diamonds. It was overly masculine and on the verge of being gaudy—classic Hades—but I guess if I had infinite wealth, I’d go a little over the top, too.
The space was mostly empty, just as I’d hoped. I was sure to keep my stride solid and natural, so I slipped into the foyer and lifted my hand toward the golden handles. Grassy fields were just beyond the start of the path that would lead to finding Psyche and getting the fuck out of there.
My fingertips brushed the handle a moment before they swung open. I jumped back, cursing as I tried to hide, but I wasn’t quick enough.
A torrent of shadows framing large wings, and a spiked crown set among spiraling ram horns stepped forward. Hades’s gaze was eclipsed in black as he glared down at me. His presencemade all the more menacing by the swath of storm clouds streaked with lightning in the distance.
“Lark,” Persephone said, emerging from the swirling shadows billowing from The God of The Underworld. Her golden crown shimmered atop her red curls, her green eyes darting from her husband to me. “We were just about to get you. Something’s happened.”
LARKSPUR
“I’ve scoured The Underworld and have found no trace of Hypnos.” Hades paced the forest floor, side-stepping gnarled roots and pomegranates that had burst open. The moon shone brightly overhead, thousands of stars winking into life as the last of the sun’s rays faded. It had been a nice day in The Asphodel Plains, but the temperature had gone from chilly to downright freezing in a matter of moments as Hades’s rage spiraled.
I looked away from his clenched fists and Persephone’s worried brow, focusing instead on the frost spreading along the nearest branch—icy shards formed over deep green leaves, exquisite in their complexity. Fragile things had such a tragic beauty to them. Despite how beautiful—how perfect—the ice crystals coating the lush, green leaves were at this moment, they were doomed to end.
After being cornered by the two of them, Hades transported Persephone and me to the pomegranate grove. Hecate had been waiting for us, and Morpheus had arrived soon after, acting as if he and I had never spoken.
“The monsters in Tartarus are restless,” Hades continued. “Even the wandering souls are behaving unusually.”
“Can they escape?” Persephone asked, looking between Hecate and her husband, but it was Morpheus, who answered.
“No, Lady Persephone. Once a soul is condemned to Tartarus or Cocytus, they are bound until Lord Hades releases them.” Morpheus’s lips tilted at the edges into an arrogant smirk. “Or until the realms fall.”
“The realms aren’t falling,” Hades snapped.
“Not yet,” Morpheus countered with a shrug. “But judging by the storm swirling overhead, I’d wager Zeus isn’t happy with the influx of souls into your realm.”
Hades’s jaw clenched as he glared at Morpheus. I lifted a brow, my gaze darting between the four of them and the sky. The once clear night was, indeed, filled with lightning and clouds. I’d figured it was a ramification of Hades’s emotions, but if it was Zeus…
“Why should Zeus care about people dying?” I asked, lifting my chin as Hades turned his withering gaze on me. “He couldn’t be bothered to stop Demeter when she was slaughtering earth witches or when she leveled The Crystal City. Why is Hypnos’s war any different?”
“Demeter kept her destruction mostly to witches,” Hecate answered softly. “Though Hades inherited their souls like any other, their collective power returned to the cosmos, replenishing the vast well the gods draw from.”
“You mean Demeterwasstrengthening the coven by making sacrifices?” Persephone asked, frosted grass and leaves crunching under her boots as she padded over to Hades’s side.
“Not quite,” Morpheus responded. “She was bolstering the gods’ power.” His shrewd, golden eyes swept the length of Hades, noting every flexed muscle and taut plane. “My father’s sleep magic has affected The Underworld, but the repercussionsexperienced here are nothing compared to the devastation that will occur if he is left unchecked in The Realm of the Living.”
Hecate’s green eyes met mine. Her black hair was braided and bound, drawing attention to her long neck and golden robes. The edge of a serpent inked in white along her forearm was visible, the shimmering tattoo stark against her dark skin. She was the goddess of witches, the link to our power in this life and the great beyond. Hecatewaspower. And right now, with the hard glint in her eyes, I knew whatever mess Hypnos created to cause that expression wasn’t something to dismiss.
“Without sleep, inhibitions are lost and become tangled with impulsive desires,” Hecate said. “Mortals go mad.”
“And eventually start killing each other,” Morpheus added in a far too nonchalant voice. “Meaning, Daddy Darkness gets more souls added to his domain.”