I freeze as a butterfly—a fucking butterfly—skims my cheek.
Those do not exist inmykingdom.
This is the land of the dead. The Netherworld. We do not havebutterflies.
Typhos moves to my side, his presence a nuisance that I want to swat at along with the fluttering creature. Instead, I walk forward and narrow my gaze as the garden I built for Persephone comes into view.
It used to be made of stone.
Now, it’s bursting with lively activity.
And it’s overlooking arunning waterfallthat’s flowing into the Creek of the Dead.
“Whatis this?” I demand through my teeth.
“An upgrade,” my cousin announces as he mists into view.
I’m about to echo his ridiculous words when another Alpha appears with him, one that has my hands curling into fists at my sides. “Ares,” I say. “Shouldn’t you be guarding a certain prison?”
The dark-haired male glances at me, the horns on his head glinting off the dual moons above.
Some Alphas have wings in beast form.
But not Ares.
His eyes still gleam a vibrant red like many others’, but instead of forming feathery plumes at his back, he has two sets of horns. One that curls at the base of his scalp. And one on top of his head.
They’re appropriate features that complement his harsher personality traits.
“You know, I was,” he drawls. “Then I felt the most alluring presence—an Alpha brawl. And, well, you know how I feel about violence.”
I nearly roll my eyes. Of course it was the battle that called to him, not my Omega’s impending heat.
Ares has always been bloodthirsty, his temper legendary.
But he’s the perfect one to manage and control Pandora’s Box as a result.
However, if he’s here, then… “Who is guarding the prisoners?”
He shrugs. “Triton.”
My eyebrows rise.
“Don’t bother,” Morpheus interjects before I can comment on Ares’s choice. “I’ve already said what you’re thinking.”
“And you dare to assume my thoughts?” I demand, irritated by the concept.
Morpheus merely grins. “I dare to do a lot of things, Cousin.” He looks around the bustling garden. “Think Serapina will appreciate my manifestation?”
Ares snorts. “This just got boring.”
“No one asked you to remain,” Morpheus replies. “The Alpha hunt has already moved on, as should you.”
“Yes,” Typhos agrees, his domineering presence a dark shadow at my side. “Unless you want to remain for a lucrative discussion?”
Ares looks at the Hell Fae King. “I’ve told you before—I’m not interested in any deals.”
Typhos lifts a shoulder. “Even Godlike creatures change their minds every once in a while.” He glances at Morpheus when he voices those words, and I wonder what he’s referring to.
