Cerberus released his hold on her. Cyane inhaled and dropped her arms from his neck to curl them around her chest.
She was going to see him.
She was finally going to see what he was… The three-headed hound? The ancient nightmarish monster?
A simple man?
Not a skeleton. His hands and the peek of skin around his eyes and brow proved that thought false.
He bowed his head, gripped the sides of his helmet, and pulled it off. Thick, black, slightly curled hair poured out first, making her reach out to touch it… The locks fell away as he tucked his helmet under his arm and brushed his fingers through the strands to reveal his face.
Her lips parted, her eyes widened, and her chest constricted. She stepped back, horrified.
The memory of the horrendous slaughter from earlier, the unrepentant dealing of death, rushed back to her. How could she forget it so soon?
“Hades,” she whispered, afraid.
Cyane backed away from Cerberus,frantically reaching for her dress. Anger cracked his heart. Was he so hideous that regret filled her the moment he revealed himself? He’d never taken his helmet off for anyone, not since Hades had given him a man’s body.
No one had ever asked him to, nor would he have even if they had. He knew he was made in Hades’s image, but his lord was known for his appeal.
“Hades?” he said. “I’m not Hades. Liar,” he fumed, watching her tug back on the dress. The one he’d procured for her.
He strode forward and gripped the dress, tearing it from her body. It vanished back into the darkness.
One last piece fluttered to the floor to settle at his feet. Whatever it was, it didn’t disappear with Cyane’s dress.
She shrieked. The sound reminded him of the thousands of souls he’d devoured. It was their final cry before they descended into the abyss of his belly.
His eyes snapped back to her, and he grabbed her before she could flee. “Look at me,” he ordered.
Cyane struggled but did as he dictated. He smelled her fear. “Please—Don’t. I don’t want this, not with you!”
Cerberus glared at her. “Not with Hades or Cerberus? You said there is no face that exists that could frighten you away from me, but that’s not true? Is it?” His hounds emerged from the shadows to bare their teeth and watch. They brought the soft scent of blood, fresh from the ballroom.
She flinched.
“Perhaps we should return to the shores of Styx and find out what other lies so easily escape you.”
“Why?”
“Why?Why?” He narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow. “I should be asking you that, Cyane. Gifts given to you go over your head.”
“Why do you look like Hades? Are you him?”
She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her. He fanned his fingers out so he could hold her hair between them. The heat of her panic made him realize how cold he truly was, how desperately he needed her warmth.
“Is that why you reek of fear?” he asked.
“Are you him? Is this a trick?”
His annoyance grew. “No.” He hissed. “I’m not him. No being, no matter how powerful, would pretend to be a lord of one of the three realms. Hubris is the wellspring of war.”
Cyane grabbed his wrists. “You’re not him.”
“I’m not.”
“Then why do you look like him! Is that why you hide yourself—so he and you can change places?” Her words spilled out. “How will I ever know you’re you? I don’t understand, make me understand.”
