A password did not guarantee a game with the God of the Dead, it was just another step in the process. Once mortals passed through the doors of the lounge, fear settled in, and that fear either drew them away or made them desperate. It was the desperate Hades was most interested in—the ones who might change if offered the chance.
It was a delicate process and involved many players. Hades had lost his fair share of bargains, and he could feel those against his skin, a never-ending itch and reminder of failure, but if he could save one life on the path to destruction, he felt it was worth it.
Hades picked up the scent of Aphrodite’s magic—sea salt and roses—and found her sitting on the lap of an older, middle-aged man. He had dark, thinning hair. His forehead was greasy and his face chubby, melting into a sweaty neck, around which Aphrodite’s arms were laced, her breasts pressed against his chest. Hades noted a gold band on the man’s left ring finger. He did not have to look at the mortal’s soul to know he was a cheating bastard.
“Why don’t we go back to my place, baby?” the man asked as his hands explored Aphrodite’s body, moving across her ribs and over her thighs. Hades cringed as he observed the interaction.
“Oh, I really would like to stay just a little longer,” Aphrodite was saying. “Don’t you want to bargain with Hades?”
The man squeezed her, fingers digging into her bottom. “Not anymore. You’re everything I need.”
“Really?” Aphrodite said breathlessly, and leaned closer, her pink lips inches from his.
Hades had to admit, the Goddess of Love was a great actress. She hid her loathing for the man and distracted him with her hands as they drifted up his chest. Hades sensed her magic rising and knew she was compelling the man to tell her the truth as she asked her next question.
“What were you missing before?”
Hades knew the answer because he could see it. The mortal’s insecurities had grown claws as he had aged, and they twined with his narcissism and need to feel important. He held resentment like his child, close to his heart, and it had poisoned his blood, fueled his lies, and prompted his cheating spree. He had a little bit of humanity left in the guilt that sat upon his shoulders like a leering gargoyle. To numb the ache, he drank, but his tolerance for drinking had grown over the last few years, which meant he needed more to feel detached from what his life had become.
The man had a cracked soul, and Hades had a feeling Aphrodite was about to shatter it.
“I’m insecure. I need to know I am still wanted by other women.”
“And it isn’t enough to be wanted by your wife?” Aphrodite’s pretty lips twisted into a scowl. The man’s eyes went wide, his mind at odds with what was coming out of his mouth. Hades had seen it before when he had used the spell.
“I love my wife,” he said. “I’m just looking for sex.”
“Is that all?” She batted her lashes and then spoke in a voice veiled with darkness and strong with promise. “In that case, when you return to your wife this evening, she will no longer desire you. She will cringe at your touch and gag when your lips touch hers. She will refuse you, she will leave you, and you will never recover.”
The man’s eyes widened, and he was no longer holding Aphrodite, his hands peeled back from her skin as if she burned.
This was Aphrodite in her true form. The mortal world believed she was nothing more than a sexual being, that she sought entertainment and pleasure from gods and mortals alike, but the truth was she could be a vengeful god, especially toward those who betrayed love.
It was probably time for Hades to make an appearance.
“Aphrodite,” he greeted, dropping his glamour.
The goddess turned to meet his gaze and smiled.
“Hades,” she purred in a sensual voice, and even though she had just cursed the mortal she was still using as an armchair, his eyes clouded with desire at the sound.
“I think the mortal has had enough excitement for one night. Why don’t you let him slither off?”
Aphrodite’s face changed at the mention of the cheater, and she turned to glare at him before hopping off his lap. “Run along, snake.”
The mortal obeyed and wandered into the crowd, dazed.
“What?” Aphrodite snapped when she looked at Hades again.
His brows rose, surprised by her venom. “Nothing. Although you will hardly help the man’s ego by taking away the only love he has ever known.”
She dusted off her hands. “He betrayed love, so he will never have it again.”
“I don’t think your punishment is unfair,” Hades explained. “But it has the potential to create a monster.”
She smirked, her expression impish. “Then he’s all yours. Monsters are your territory, Hades.”
Minthe approached just then, balancing a tray of drinks. This was how the nymph spent most of her evenings at Nevernight—taking orders and delivering them, flirting with mortals and immortals alike, and gathering information from Hades’ more elite clients.
“Lady Aphrodite,” Minthe said as she passed the goddess a glass of rosé. “Lord Hades.”
She handed off a glass of whiskey, and as she wandered away, he turned to Aphrodite, who raised a pale brow at him.
“Yes?” he inquired at her questioning stare.
“That nymph wants to fuck you,” she said.
A mistake I will never make again, he thought.
Hades did not acknowledge her comment and instead said, “You do not often grace my halls with your presence, Aphrodite. What can I do for you?”
She took a sip of wine, her sea-foam eyes locked with his. “I had hoped you’d be interested in a bargain of our own.”
“I do not play gods.”
“Just one game, Hades,” she said innocently, and then goaded, “Are you afraid?”
“A game played under this roof is never just a game.” Not even for me, he thought. There was always the possibility of losing, and he tended to lose just as much as the mortals who bargained with him, but their requests he could grant. He did not trust what Aphrodite would ask for. “Why request a game? What is it you want, goddess?”
“Why must I want something?” she asked. “Perhaps I am just bored and in need of entertainment.”
“There is nothing more dangerous than a bored Aphrodite,” Hades mused.
She pouted. “Please, Hades?”
He met her gaze and sipped from his glass before answering.
“No, Aphrodite.”
She was after more than entertainment. He could see it in the way she carried herself, rigid and tense. Something had brought her here, and if he had to guess, it had to do with her husband.
“Fine.” She lifted her chin in defiance. “You forced my hand.”
He glared at her, knowing what she was going to say next.
“I have an unclaimed favor from you, Hades. I wish to use it.”
A favor owed between gods was like a blood pact. Once invoked, it could not be taken back.
“You would waste a favor on a game of cards?” he asked. He knew the answer—whatever had brought Aphrodite here, it was worth spending.
Her eyes flashed. “It is not a waste.”
He took a drink of his whiskey. It kept him from saying anything he might regret before he gritted out, “One game, Aphrodite, no more.”