Page 45 of Learn My Lesson
He gives me a small smile. “Hardly, love. I’m not in the business of murder. This time.”
I could argue otherwise. He’s more than happy to hand people over to their enemies, which may or may result in their death, even if his hands remain relatively clean. He was more than happy to hand Yasmina over to a man who terrified her. I can’t blame him for that, though, not when my hands are equally dirty with his deals. I look from Hades to Hercules and back again. “So you seduce the son to hurt the father. I’m assuming there is some footage or photographs that will make their way to him.”
He shrugs. “It’s possible.”
I point at Hercules. “And you’re okay with this, with him using you like this?” It can’t last forever, no matter what Hades negotiated as terms. He’s going to drag Hercules down to our level and then cut him loose to drown. “You can’t be okay with this.”
“My father is a monster.” He says it so calmly, as if remarking on the weather. From the little I know of Zeus at this point, I can’t argue with him, but surely he sees this isn’t as simple as Hades has laid it out to be.
They knew and spoke about this and didn’t loop me in until I forced them to.
I feel like I’m falling. Every time I hit the bottom, it collapses beneath me, revealing farther to drop. I am completely immaterial to this plan. Just the lure Hades placed to draw Hercules in. He didn’t tell me. And Hercules seemed more than content to keep his silence too. It hurts. It hurts way more than it fucking should. I can’t help feeling like Hades has drawn a circle in the sand and I’m on the outside of it. Why bother to tell me at all? My part in this has been served. He’s only doing it now to placate me, to keep me content and avoid rocking the boat further, not because he genuinely wants me involved or sees me as an equal partner. Even offering Hercules as a gift feels secondary to his vengeance.
I swallow past the hard knot in my throat. “So you take the pictures, send them to Zeus and…what? How is that even close to equal to what he did to you?”
“It’s not.” Just that. Nothing more.
Even with all this talk of talking, he’s still shutting me out.
I wait, but no more information seems to be forthcoming. He’s given me enough that I’m supposed to be satisfied, but even now, he’s holding back. I want to shake him, to scream at him, to list all the ways he’s breaking us even as he appears to take actions to heal us. I don’t. It won’t change anything, not really. Instead, I lean over and take his chin the same way he does to me when he wants my undivided attention. “Hades.” I pitch my voice low, but it shakes with the sheer intensity of the feelings I’m determined not to show. “If you hurt Hercules, that’s it. I’m out.”
“You have a lifetime sentence, love.”
I give him a sad smile. “We both know that won’t stop me if I want to disappear. You harm him, and I’m gone for good.”
He searches my face with those dark, dark eyes. All amusement flees his expression. “You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
“Megaera—”
I drop my hand and push to my feet. “Good night, Hades.” I nod at Hercules, who’s watching us with a stunned expression on his face. “Sleep well.”
I don’t bother to retrieve my dress before I leave the office and take the back stairs down to the residential floor. Tomorrow, I have to spend more time in the club, to see and be seen. The old saying about the mice playing while the cat’s away is never truer than with a bunch of kinky criminals in a sex club. They’ll push just as far as we’ll let them, so likely I’ll have to make an example of someone tomorrow. Once upon a time, the thought would have filled me with glee. There was nothing I loved more than bringing a proud person down a few notches, to strip them to their core self and rock their world. Now? I’m just tired. So fucking tired.
Hades won’t change whatever his plan is for Hercules. I know him well enough to know that. No matter how much he cares about me, no matter how much he claims to want to fix things, he’s been harboring the need for revenge for thirty years. Justice for his wife and child. I stop. How goddamn selfish do I have to be that that is the thing that trips me up? Not his vengeful, potentially murderous, intentions. No. It’s the kid who makes my chest hurt and my eyes burn.
I don’t want kids. I never have. It was something I thought Hades and I had in common, a total and complete lack of desire to procreate. But I know what I heard in his voice when he mentioned his son.
Longing.
I am so incredibly selfish to hate that he’s lied to me. Ten years we’ve been together, and he’s wanted children this whole time? I hate the guilt that eats away at me. I haven’t done anything wrong. If he’d communicated with me—and the very idea is laughable now—then we wouldn’t be together. Some things a person cannot compromise on; having children numbers among them.
How dare he hide this from me?
I shove through my door and drop the blanket to the floor. I can’t do this. I thought I had a clear understanding of my life and relationship. Nothing is perfect, but at least I know the boundaries I’m willing to compromise on. I thought I knew him. It hurts beyond measure to realize I didn’t know anything at all.
A quick shower does nothing to clear my spiraling thoughts. I wrap myself in my robe and stare down at my bed. The thought of sleeping alone is unbearable, which might make me laugh if I had anything resembling a sense of humor left after tonight. The temptation rises to call Yasmina and make the drive over to Jafar’s penthouse, but we don’t have that kind of relationship. Fucking and friendship, yes, but not the depth that allows me to crawl into bed with them and take comfort from their presence.
I’m being a coward.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I walk out my door and pad down the hallway to Hercules’s suite. I knock lightly and it’s only then that I pause to consider that he might not have come back to his room. Even now, he might be settling into Hades’s giant bed. I lower my hand. This self-pitying spiral is exhausting. I’m not fit company for anyone right now, and looking for a shoulder to lean on is just as selfish as everything else I’ve done today. This week, this year, this decade.
The door opens before I can turn and walk away. Hercules leans against the doorjamb, his hair wet from a recent shower and a towel wrapped low around his hips. He studies me for a long moment before he pushes off the frame and steps back. “Come in.”
“Actually, I?—”
“Meg.” He gives me a soft smile. “Come in.”
