Chapter 2

The palace’s interior wasn’t what I had imagined based on how it looked on the outside. For starters, the hallway looked like a picture I’d once seen of Versailles. Sunlight—I have no idea where it came from—streamed in through twelve-foot-tall windows and hit a row of crystal chandeliers that took up the twenty-foot-wide space.

Opulence didn’t begin to describe the life-sized gold statues of people twisted in agonizing positions, their faces forever frozen with terror. Each of them held candelabras that provided unnecessary illumination.

“Wow,” said the imp. “I thought a bitch as ugly as you would gobble down my cock like it was the last salami on a smorgasbord.”

The insult stung as it usually did, but it was nothing compared to a lash made of barbed flames. Nor was it as bad as what Griff had said the day he’d died. They’d called me everything when I had been alive: moose, beast, behemoth, monster. I’d heard it all.

When Mum told me I took after my Dad, it was no lie. I was six-two and broad-shouldered with strong features. The only thing I liked about my appearance was my long, blonde hair, which I always styled like that pretty one from Charlie’s Angels—the one played by Farrah Fawcett.

I glanced down at the lack of bulge in the imp’s leather pants and scoffed. “Salami? I’d rather be chewed up, digested, and shat by a rock troll than go anywhere near your meager chipolata.”

“One of these days, I’ll remind you of this when I’ve got you on my spit,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

My stomach dropped, weighed down by a boulder of fear. This was no empty threat, but that was the nature of Hell. I gave him a non-committal hum and folded my arms behind my back like we were going for a stroll. Seriously, the air here was pristine, and the view was spectacular.

There was a blue sky outside of the window. Fields of green fields, green forests, and green lakes stretched out toward a range of snow-peaked mountains. Even if I was walking besides Hell’s most irritating demon, this place was a touch of Heaven.

He leaned down and whispered, “This is your last chance before you face His Majesty.”

“Take me to him,” I hissed.

“Fine.” He stalked ahead to a door at the end of the hallway, where I swore that one of the golden statues shifted a few inches and whispered for help. I jogged after the imp and waited for him to make three sharp raps on the door.

“Enter,” said a deep voice on the other side.

The imp opened the door, leaned down, and whispered in my ear, “Good luck. And when you screw this up and return to the Punishment Pits, I’ll be waiting for you with a pitchfork in one hand and a barbed cock in the other.”

“Make sure to bring a magnifying glass. I’ve always wanted to see a red caterpillar,” I said as I walked through the door.

His serpentine tail cracked across my back, sending a lash of pain that made me clench my teeth and hiss. Fuck him and his scrawny dick. I got here with my pride and dignity intact, didn’t I?

Pulling back my shoulders, I raised my chin and strode into what appeared to be the o ce of an old-fashioned gentleman.

There was no sign of Hades, so I had a few moments to take in my surroundings. The walls that weren’t filled with shelves of leather-bound books were covered in mahogany panels. Beyond a large desk on the left side of the room and plush leather sofas on the right stood a huge fireplace that snapped and cracked and popped with golden flames.

Above its mantle and within the largest picture frame I’d ever seen was an oil painting of a bearded and shirtless Hades. He sat on a golden throne, his legs akimbo. In his left hand, he held a bident, and in his right, a chain that attached to a three-headed dog. Its body was so large that it curled around the throne and couldn’t even fit on the canvas.

“Is something to your liking, Miss Aibek?” asked a deep voice.

I whirled around, my gaze meeting that of a dark-haired man with high cheekbones and crystal-blue eyes that burned like flames. I stepped back and placed one hand over my boobs and the other over my crotch. It had been so long since I’d seen someone other than a condemned soul or a pit demon that I’d forgotten the importance of clothes.

He grinned with the confidence of a man who knew every woman found him attractive, which made my skin tighten. Whoever he was, he looked just like Griff. A filthy, low-down charmer, womanizer, and scoundrel.

“It’s wonderful to see you after so much time.” He gestured at the nearest armchair. “Would you care to sit?”

“I thought I was here to see Hades.”

His blue eyes sparkled, and he swept his hands down the black silk lapels of Hugh Hefner smoking jacket. “King Hades, at your service.”

“No,” I said, trying not to sound condescending. “Hades is older, and you’re—”

“Unfeasibly handsome?” he drawled. “I get that all the time. After a while, the compliments become tiresome. Now, sit before my patience wears thin and I have you returned to the Pits.”

I hurried to the armchair and sat. Its leather felt smoother and softer than anything I’d felt in a long time, and every muscle in my transparent body relaxed with a sigh.

The man sat on the arm of the sofa, leaving an eight- foot-long distance between us. Strangely, this was the first time I’d felt so relaxed in Hell, even though I had no idea who he was or what Hades wanted. He was probably an assistant or his arrogant, young son. Either way, I enjoyed being out of my cell and free from pain.

“How is the rehabilitation going?” he asked. “Any regrets?”

My brows drew together. “Rehabili-what?”

“The punishments.” He swept his hand to the side as though that demonstrated his point. “The endless opportunities to see where you went wrong in life and feel some genuine remorse.”

“Who are you?” I leaned back.

“What did I tell you about trying my patience, Miss Aibek?” he said in a voice of steel.

I let my mind flicker back to his question. “The punishments are torturous, and I don’t like reliving the events that led to my execution.”

His lips thinned. “That’s hardly the point.”

My mind went blank. Wasn’t watching Griff’s calculated betrayal the main part of the punishment?

He huffed a breath. “You realize there’s a way out of the Pits?”

“Are you serious?”

“When a soul feels genuine remorse for their wicked deeds, the Pits release them into the Asphodel Meadows.”

My breath stilled, and I stared into his blue eyes. Nothing in his handsome features said he was trying to fool me, but it wasn’t like I was the best judge of character considering I’d fallen for Griff.

He leaned forward, his brows raised as though waiting for me to respond.

I licked my dry lips. “How can I feel remorse for a grifter who seduced me, broke my heart, and stole my pack? We were supposed to be mates.”

“Would you believe that I understand your pain?” he said, his voice soft. “Love is an emotion exceedingly more dangerous than hate or fear or fury. When scorned, it can inspire people to commit atrocities.”

“Then why am I being punished?”

The man straightened, his features tightening. “Unfortunately, I don’t make the rules.”

His words triggered something I’d learned in the academy. About two thousand years ago, all the old gods fell in a supernatural disaster that resulted in one god taking all the power. Nobody had ever seen him or knew his name, but he sent messages to the world through his angels.

They’d probably employed Hades to take care of the Fifth Faction because he had plenty of experience in the Underworld. And there was likely an interesting story about how he’d transformed from the middle-aged scowling man in the portrait to a creature as handsome as Tony Manero in Saturday Night Fever. As much as I wanted to stroll down that lane of memories, this wasn’t the time.

“You really are Hades?” I whispered.

“I am,” he said with a tight smile that indicated his patience was about to snap.

Although I was hot-headed, reckless, and prone to stupid outbursts, I was no fool. This man—this god—had the power to do something about my current living situation, and I wasn’t about to act the fool and let him hand me back to Mr. Chipolata and his pointy pitchfork.

Bowing my head, I said, “What can I do for you, Your Majesty?”

“I’d like you to see something,” he said.

I raised my gaze to find him pointing toward the fireplace. Twisting around, I found an image floating above the painting of Hades and the three-headed dog.