“I don’t wish you to suffer at all,” I said, my desperation leaking through.
“The punishment must be just for the crime.”
“There was no crime. I fell.”
His jaw worked for a moment, and I could tell he was barely controlling his anger.
“Yes. You did. Over Zotera.”
He released me and turned toward the door.
Knowing he meant to continue punishing her, I threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his waist and holding tight. What was wrong with me? Why was I so willing to risk myself for her? I barely knew her. Yet, every instinct demanded that I keep her safe. Maybe it was because I knew no one else ever would.
Hades twitched underneath me as I pressed my face to his chest.
“Why does there need to be any punishment?” I pleaded against his skin.
“I gave you my word. It is written. I will not break our contract.”
Fucking deals.
My mind raced for a solution. How did a person make the king of Hell suffer? A person didn’t. But Persephone sure had a knack for it. Even after her death, he was in a constant state of suffering because of her. Because he still wanted her.
I jerked my head back and looked up at him, thinking how tormented he was just with his desperation for her.
Unsure of myself, I released him.
“What if the punishment doesn’t result in blood but there is still suffering?”
“The suffering would need to be great.”
“I think it might be.”
“Tell me your preferred punishment.”
It sure as hell wasn’tmypreferred punishment, but my idea was better than gutting a god or letting Hades claw Zotera’s face.
“You have to watch me shower,” I said, my voice wavering. “And it won’t end with what you want. You can’t touch me or yourself or look away. And you have to wear pants.”
He closed his eyes. “The knife would be kinder.” He exhaled heavily. “So be it.”
So be it. The words echoed around in my head like I’d just been sentenced for a crime I didn’t commit. Was I nervous about getting naked in front of Hades? Absolutely. It didn’t matter how many times he’d already seen me. This time, it was intentional.
I was purposely torturing a person who’d already been tortured to the point of mental instability as proven by what had almost happened in the hallway just now.
My hands shook as the screen between the tub and the lounge disappeared.
Doing my best to stay focused on the positive thought that I could finally wash, I grabbed the soap bowl on the way to the shower area. As soon as I approached, the hot water started falling, and steam rose in the air.
I almost set the soap on the floor then realized I’d have to bend over to retrieve it.
“Could you make a shelf about right here?” I asked, pointing to an area of the wall about shoulder height and just to the left of the shower.
The shelf appeared, and I set the bowl and my key on it.
Hands shaking, I kept my back to him and tugged my gown off over my head. It was still clean, dry, and in my possession, which made me hesitate to drop it on the floor.
“Part of the punishment needs to be clothing me again once I’m finished. Okay?”
