The Goddess Test Boxed Set: Goddess Interrupted\The Goddess Inheritance\The Goddess Legacy (97 page)

I was instantly smitten, but I wasn't the only one. As I
watched them together, Aphrodite couldn't take her eyes off him, either. Despite
their games, she constantly kept a hand on him, as if she were afraid he would
disappear. Maybe he would. Maybe he was some sort of illusion. There was no
other explanation for how someone so handsome could exist and not be one of
us.

He tackled her to the sand and tickled her, and her shrieks of
delight made my head ache. So she'd won again. Another boy, this time the most
perfect one I'd ever seen, and Hephaestus didn't seem to care. If anything, he'd
love her more tomorrow than he did today, because that's the kind of man he was.
Just like Hades.

“Adonis!” she cried, laughing. “Adonis, no, I have to get back.
I'm already late as it is.”

“Take me with you,” he murmured, kissing her, and she melted
against him. Usually this was my cue to look away or disappear, but something
stopped me.

Adonis. That was his name. I whispered it to myself, feeling
the syllables roll off my tongue, and I smiled. It was perfect. He was perfect.
And I wanted him.

“Mmm, you know I would, but Daddy would kill me,” said
Aphrodite, stealing another kiss. “I mean it this time—I
really
have to go. I have a council meeting.”

I blinked. Adonis knew she was a goddess? Not that men didn't
usually suspect when it came to her, but to actually mention the council…

“Very well,” he said, releasing her with one last kiss. “I will
see you again shortly?”

“Soon,” she promised. “I do have to spend some time with my
husband, you know.”

He grinned, and she blew him a kiss. A moment later, she
disappeared, and Adonis stared at the spot where she'd last stood. He had a
wistful look on his face, as if he were thinking about a future he could never
have. And if he were really mortal, then he was right. He couldn't.

Before I could stop and think, I slipped through the barrier
between us, and I arrived on the beach in exactly the spot where Aphrodite had
stood. Adonis's eyes widened, and he blinked several times.

“Who are you?” he said, but he didn't step back. That was
something.

“Persephone,” I said. “I didn't mean to barge in—”

“Persephone? Queen of the Dead?” he said, and now he did
stumble backward. Damn. “Am I dying? Am I to be punished for being with the
goddess of love herself?”

I snorted. “Please. If every man she slept with died because of
it, there'd be no men left in the world. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.
I'm not here to carry you off to the Underworld or anything.” Though he had the
good sense to fear it, at least. “I just…”

What was I supposed to say? That I'd been spying on him and
Aphrodite? That he was the most beautiful man I'd ever seen? That I saw my
future in his smile, that light and warmth and heart—that I wanted a piece of
that happiness, no matter how small?

Oh, please. Love at first sight was the sort of thing Aphrodite
believed, not me. I should've never come.

But the thought of returning to the Underworld and leaving him
behind made my shriveled heart twitch in protest. He was a stranger, but at the
same time, when I looked at him, I saw the familiar. I saw everything I'd ever
wanted in those blue eyes, and I couldn't tear myself away.

“You just what?” he said, his voice gentler now, as if he could
feel whatever drew me toward him, as well. Maybe he could. Maybe this was
another one of Aphrodite's tricks, designed to humiliate me in front of
everyone.

I needed to go. Or come up with a better excuse that had
nothing to do with the truth. I took a breath, weighing my options. Not much of
a choice. I could no sooner leave him than I could throw myself into the
bottomless pit of Tartarus. “You looked—lonely, that's all. I'm sorry. Please
don't be scared.”

He eyed me, and as the sky turned from rainbow to purple, he
relaxed. “It takes loneliness in oneself to recognize it in another.”

“Yes, well. I don't exactly have a whole host of people in the
Underworld begging to come to my parties,” I said wryly.

That got a smile out of him, and it was just as beautiful as
the ones he'd given Aphrodite. Maybe even more so, now that this one was meant
for me. “I am Adonis,” he said, stepping forward. Though he hesitated, he took
my hand and brushed his lips against my knuckles. “I am afraid I do not know the
proper protocol for addressing royalty.”

“This isn't my realm,” I said, “and right now, I'm not the
queen of anything. I'm just Persephone.”

That was technically a lie; I still had a month to go before
spring, but Adonis didn't need to know that. “Well, just Persephone, it is the
greatest pleasure and honor of my humble existence to set eyes on a creature as
beautiful as you.”

I blushed. “Please. I know you've seen Aphrodite.”

“And yet I speak the truth.”

No wonder Aphrodite liked him. He could probably talk his way
out of the Underworld. “Do you live here?” I said, and he nodded.

“Aphrodite brought me here to keep me safe,” he said. “Though
safe from what, I'm afraid I do not know.”

I did. One look at Adonis, and it was obvious Aphrodite was
worried someone else would claim him for their own. “What about your home? Your
family?”

He shrugged and took my arm as if it were the most natural
thing in the world. “I have none.”

“Oh. I'm sorry.”

Adonis shook his head, and his blond curls fell into his eyes.
“Don't be. All the more time to spend with you. Do goddesses eat? Might I
interest you in dinner?”

I should've said no. Hades would miss me before long, and I'd
promised myself I would never betray him again. But Adonis made me feel as if I
was flying—one look, one smile, and that was enough to wash all of the bad away.
This was what I'd missed since Hermes. This was what I'd craved. And no matter
how much I loved him, Hermes was nothing compared to Adonis.

“Yes,” I said. “I think I have time for dinner.”

He beamed and brushed his lips against my cheek. The spot where
he'd touched me seemed to sear itself into my skin, and as he led me toward the
edge of the woods, I hugged his arm. It wouldn't hurt to miss one evening with
Hades. I'd make it up to him, stay an extra day after the spring equinox or
something. But nothing, not even my soul-crushing guilt, could make me walk away
from Adonis.

* * *

Each evening, after Hades and I finished our judgments,
I visited Adonis. Sometimes I stayed for a few minutes, sometimes for hours,
always timed to make sure Aphrodite would never find us. But she stayed away
more and more, always grumbling about Ares or Hephaestus needing her attention.
Adonis never complained, and she never asked why.

But I was that reason. The time I spent with Adonis was bliss,
and from the way he lit up upon seeing me, I knew it wasn't just me. Together we
explored the island hand in hand, and we talked about everything. My life, his,
the role the council played in the lives of mortals—Aphrodite had told him far
more than we were permitted to tell mortals, and that made the conversation much
easier. I wasn't bending any rules she hadn't already broken, and Adonis seemed
to enjoy hearing about what we did.

Mortals already told stories about my family—some true, some
embellished, some outright ridiculous, and Adonis took great joy in relaying
them to me. We made a game of it; he would remove or replace the names, and I
would try to guess which member of my family he was talking about. I'd never
laughed so hard in my entire existence.

I didn't kiss him though, and while we held hands, he never
pressed for more. I couldn't give it to him, not while it was still winter. Not
while I was still Hades's. Being here was enough betrayal on its own. I couldn't
make things worse no matter how tempting Adonis was.

I ached for spring to come. We talked about Mother's cottage
and how we might get one of our own; Adonis had never had a home before, not a
proper one he'd chosen for himself, and he relished the idea of seeing the place
that had become my summer retreat. As spring neared, I grew giddy with the
thought of showing him my home and sharing my summer with him. He, in turn, was
never too embarrassed to tell me exactly how excited he was, as well.

That was the best part about being with him—the honesty. The
openness. After millennia of enduring the lies and secrets within my family,
even down in the Underworld, it was a relief not to question every word he said.
He was everything I'd ever wanted, and even if I could only have him as a
friend, that would still be more than I'd ever thought I'd have.

But I did want more. I longed to kiss him, to touch him, to
bask in his outer beauty as much as I enjoyed the beauty inside. We were perfect
together in every way, and as soon as I could, I would steal him from Aphrodite
and give him the life he wanted. The life he deserved. The life we both
deserved.

Days before the spring equinox, he and I sat together on the
beach, our hands clasped as we laughed over a story he'd told me about his
childhood. I was oblivious to our surroundings, barely aware of time passing at
all, and it was only the look on Adonis's face that alerted me to the fact that
something was wrong.

I turned. Standing in the sand, her arms crossed and a scowl on
her pretty little face, was Aphrodite.

Lovely.

“I wasn't aware it was spring already. What are you doing
here?” she said in a sickeningly sweet voice.

“Talking to a friend,” I said, not bothering to match her tone.
Adonis knew exactly how I felt about her. “What are you doing here? Cheating on
your dozen boyfriends?”

She scoffed. “Only a dozen? You severely underestimate me. Hi,
love,” she said to Adonis. “Is Persephone bothering you? I can make her leave,
if you'd like.”

I bristled. “Make me leave? How? By cooing at me?”

“Don't you have a husband to get back to?” she snapped.

“Don't you?”

She sniffed. “He knows exactly where I am, though I'm willing
to bet Hades has absolutely no idea where you are. You
do
know who she is, don't you, Adonis? And who her husband is? He
controls your afterlife, you know. Are you really willing to risk that?”

Adonis stared at our intertwined fingers. At least he wasn't
trying to make me let go, but he didn't say anything, either. I squeezed his
hand.

“Adonis and I are friends, nothing more.” The urge to rip her
hair out twisted inside me, and it took every ounce of my self-control to stay
seated. “Though he will be coming to stay with me on the spring equinox.”

“Is that so?” Aphrodite raised an eyebrow. “And who decided
that?”

“Adonis did.”

She huffed. “You have no right to come here and steal him
like—”

“Like what? Like you stole Hermes?”

She let out a bitter, empty laugh. “Is that why you're doing
this? Because of Hermes? That was
eons
ago.”

“I'm doing this because Adonis is my friend, and I love him,” I
said with as much dignity as I could muster. “It's his life, and you don't get a
say in it.”

“Adonis, tell her,” demanded Aphrodite, not taking her eyes off
me. I glared back.
“Adonis
.
”

To my immense satisfaction, Adonis said nothing. I smirked,
even though it was petty, and Aphrodite let out a frustrated screech that
startled the seagulls.

“Daddy!” she shrieked, and even though the sky was blue and
clear, thunder rumbled through the air. Adonis's eyes widened, and he started to
stand, but I gently tugged on his hand.

“It's fine,” I said quietly. “He won't hurt you.” I hoped.

Lightning sizzled on the beach, and in the blink of an eye,
Zeus arrived. No chance in hell he would've come that quickly if I'd been the
one to call. Standing an even distance away from us, he frowned and crossed his
arms over his broad chest. “Dare I even ask?”

Aphrodite was in tears now, and of course she looked beautiful
when she cried. I hated her. “Per-Persephone is trying to steal Adonis from
me.”

My mouth dropped open. “Excuse me? He
wants
to stay with me, and he has every right to choose his own
life.”

“He already chose me long before you showed up, you cow.”

“
Cow?
You vain little—”

“Enough, girls.” Zeus sighed and pinched the bridge of his
nose. “Aphrodite, start at the beginning.”

She sniffed and straightened her shoulders, looking down her
nose at me. “Adonis and I've been together for ages. We love each other, and
we're perfect together, naturally.”

“If you're so perfect together, then why do you keep him
trapped on this island?” I said.

“I'm not trapping him. I'm protecting him.”

“From what? Other girls who might actually be able to devote
themselves to him completely?” I snapped.

“Persephone,” said Zeus in a warning tone, and I huffed. This
was completely unfair. Not just for me, but for Adonis, too. It was obvious he
wasn't going to speak up in his own defense, though. Not that I blamed him, of
course—my father could be intimidating at the best of times, and I was a
goddess. I couldn't imagine what being in his presence was like for a
mortal.

“I keep him here to protect him from Ares,” said Aphrodite.
“He's been acting a little jealous lately, and there's no point in causing a
skirmish.”