Pyrder and Reys teleported all of us—the rest of the mates, me, and our selected elite warriors—to the coordinates I gave them. Amber had insisted that she’d be needed, so she came along, too.

A pungent smell of ash and sulfur hit my nostrils before we landed atop a rocky mountain.

My eyes widened as I spotted wisps of steam curling above the peak of a volcano cone.

“Fuckass!” I called. “It’s a volcano.”

My mates were calmer, though confusion bled from their alert eyes as they surveyed the surroundings.

Their warriors followed suit, weapons drawn.

A current of lava chose that moment to spew out of the cone before settling back along the craters, burbling. The ground beneath us murmured and groaned, as if in a light labor pain. 

My mates dragged me back, putting distance between me and the sporadic flowing of lava.

Alaric frowned at the cone, his scarf shuffling in the wind. No matter where he was, the demigod dressed in style.

My fae twin mates were clad in leather jackets, sexy as fuck. Reysalor wore black like he owned the color. He was a black panther. Pyrder went for brown since his animal fur was golden.

My vampire mate had a long trench coat draped over his dress shirt.

Any second of the day they stole my breath away.

Even in this dangerous, volcanic site where lava blew up. 

“You sure Hephaestus came here, sweetheart?” Alaric said in a low voice, as if he wanted to soften the blow to my unintentional mistake. “I don’t sense him. Perhaps we should move to another location.”

I couldn’t be wrong. I was Earth’s heir. I could sense all living things on the surface just fine. As of now, I felt a strong pulse from the God of Blacksmiths.

I narrowed my eyes at Alaric. “Doubting me? I’ll just go dig him out myself, even if he’s buried under the lava and ash!”

Alaric grinned at me. “What a firecracker, sweetheart, I was just saying—”

The side wall of the volcano cone opened a crack, and I yelped.

My mates and their warriors instantly formed a protective ring around Amber and me. I actually hated them doing that since they blocked my view, and I had to squat to peek out between their legs to see outside.

They constantly forgot that I was no defenseless damsel but the most powerful being among them all.

I shoved myself in between Pyrder and Celeb.

Celeb arched an eyebrow at me before turning to stare hard at the volcano cone, ready for any threat.

“Cass baby, it’s not safe—” Pyrder started.

“You’d better really treat me as an equal,” I said. “Or all of you can find your beds tonight somewhere else.”

An alarmed look rippled across my mates’ faces, and not just because the crack on the side wall of the volcano widened with a grinding like an avalanche.

Yet no lava flowed out. 

Instead, a giant old man with a scraggly beard and big nose that covered half of his face stumbled out. His bull-shaped, miserable eyes stared straight at me.

Well, Hephaestus was indeed ugly, even though he was a god, and he looked like an alcoholic with rough, reddened cheeks.

His hands were the largest I’d ever seen and out of proportion. But then it made sense since he was the most sought-out blacksmith in all the worlds. He needed big fists to hammer on steel.

Everyone’s eyes went round at the sight of a hideous god, except for Alaric.

Hephaestus approached us, sparks of fire falling from his mechanic uniform.

The warriors tensed, raising their weapons.

“He’s okay,” Alaric said, striding toward the God of Blacksmiths and Fire. “He doesn’t like to fight.”

From what my mates had told me, Hephaestus’s most obnoxious deed was trapping Ares and Aphrodite in an unbreakable chain-link net while they were fucking and dragging them to parade in front of the other gods in his jealous rage.

The asshole God of War had well deserved the humiliation. If I were Hephaestus, I’d have poked a few holes in Ares while he’d been in the net, or designed something to make him ugly, too, or at least less attractive.

Hephaestus nodded at Alaric and stopped before me, towering over me.

I looked up at him brazenly, my hands bracing firmly on my hips.

“So, you’re Hephaestus,” I said. “You’re hard to find, dude.”

“I’ve been waiting for you, Cass,” he said. “What took you so long?”

I blinked. I’d expected anything but this. I’d mapped out the whole plan to trick or force him to make the weapon for us.

“Uh?” I said. “It’s not that long, is it? And how do you know me?”

“Every god is talking about you,” Hephaestus grunted. “You’re the shiniest new toy right now. Besides, your mum is in Mount Olympus, campaigning against you.”

“That cunt!” I said, rage drumming in my veins.

Hephaestus blinked at me, not at my anger but at my curse. 

“I have no mother,” I hissed.

“Neither do I,” he said. “I’ll call Hera ‘cunt’ next time and can’t wait to see the look on her face.”

His bitch queen of a mother flung baby Hephaestus from the mountain and exiled him, but I winced at the picture of old, ugly Hephaestus calling anyone cunt.

Hephaestus ran a large hand through his oily hair, and again I tried not to grimace. Why was I so vain? He might look revolting, but he was useful.

“The woman who gave you birth said you’re a little monster, the destroyer of this world and all worlds,” the God of Blacksmiths said with an appreciative smirk.

According to legend, Hephaestus had never hurt a thing directly, but he loved destruction so he created weapons for others to run around and do the damage, and he got to watch with a big stupid grin on his face.

And he was clearly a gossiping type.

“A good number of my peers agreed that you’re quite a little monster.” He nodded at me, a vicious gratitude sparkling in his eyes. “You traumatized Phobos and beheaded his bastard brother. Ares is shutting himself in now. For an eon, no one could rile him up so.” He threw his head back and roared belly laughter. “The ‘great’ God of War failed to contain a little goddess. His humiliation has already been recorded in the Olympian histories.” He wiped a large tear from the corner of his age-lined eyes. “The fucker didn’t see this coming!”

Hephaestus reached a hand down, trying to pat my shoulder to congratulate me.

“Don’t touch my mate,” Alaric warned sharply, and Hephaestus withdrew his hand as if he’d been burned.

“You’re waiting for us, right, Hephaestus?” I asked. “So you know why we came.”

“I’ve been in this volcano cave for two days, preparing to meet you,” he said.

My mates each shot me a concerned glance before staring hard at Hephaestus again. They were wondering what else I hadn’t told them.

“So you think you can forge this blade for me?” I asked, putting on a serious face so he’d take me seriously.

“I designed Hermes’s winged helmet, Achilles’s armor, Heracles’s clappers, Helios’s chariot, and my ex-wife’s famed girdle, among other art pieces. I also created all thrones in the Palace of Olympus. I’m the God of Metalwork. I can make anything. Only in my work do I forget the pain of the black, bleak world.”

“Fine,” I said, waving a hand up toward his face. “Your resume is impressive, so I’d like to commission you to make a sword for me.”

He rubbed his large hands in excitement. “I’m more than happy to design the Blade of Five Elements for the new goddess and be remembered as the one who forged such a weapon in Olympus history, if we still have a history after you wield the sword.”

So he had known what the Blade of Five Elements could do, and he wanted the destruction, revenge, chaos, and the end of the world that it could bring. That I could bring.

As I’d said, every god was a psychopath, me probably included.

I clasped my hands. “Awesome! Let’s get you started!” I looked around. “Uh, where’s your workstation? And where do we sit while you’re working?”

I didn’t expect him to be civilized enough to bring us tea and cakes while we waited for him to forge the blade.

He glanced at me, then at Alaric. “I don’t work for free, even though I really like Cass, unlike other gods. They’ve been having meetings and meetings discussing how to deal with the newest, most dangerous member in their rank. Of course, the gods never agree on anything. They’re divided right down the middle. But, in the end, if they can’t assimilate her, they’ll have to kill her. Zeus will soon put a bounty on her little head. By the way, some rogue gods are already out hunting her. They plan to strike her mates first, and that would be you guys.”

He swept his big hand toward the four of my mates.

My mates and all the warriors snarled, not at Hephaestus, but at the gods wanting my head on a plate. I wasn’t afraid of my death that much anymore, but my blood froze in icy fear at the gods’ unholy move toward my mates.

“They can try,” Lorcan hissed.

Reys slung an arm around my shoulder, gifting me his warmth and unconditional love.

Alaric stared at Hephaestus, cold menace and killing light swirling in his honey-brown eyes. The demigod only showed warmth and affection toward me.

“Chill, demigod,” Hephaestus said. “I won’t betray your mate. I want her to strike them, harder than anyone else can ever deliver. And I’ll drink to their misery and do a belly dance on their graves.”

I really didn’t want to picture Hephaestus’s belly dance.

“Don’t you worry we’ll kill you, too?” Alaric asked.

“No, my bastard brother,” Hephaestus said. “Even though I’ve just met Cass, I know she’s a monster with a heart. As long as I’m on her side, she won’t harm me. Besides, I always have my contingency plan, a failsafe.”

“What’s your failsafe?” Pyrder demanded.

Hephaestus tilted his head and grinned like a huge, hideous cat. “If I tell you, then it won’t be one.”

“Let’s get it going, God of Blacksmiths and Fire,” Lorcan said. “We’ve brought bags of gold and the rarest jewelry on Earth for you.”

The High Lord of Night would empty his treasure vault from the Court of Blood and Void to forge this sword. He wasn’t always good at bargaining. In the past, I’d often gotten the upper hand. I needed to watch his back and save some of his gold.

I cleared my throat and put my hands back on my hips. “On second thoughts—”

“I want no gold, no diamonds, and no jewelry,” Hephaestus said.

I threw a thumb at him with an approving grin. “Good man!”

But Alaric narrowed his eyes.

Hephaestus trained on my demigod mate. “I want your flaming sword as the payment. It’s one of the finest, and only, metal-craft artifacts that’s not made by me, and it’s the blade that decapitated Ares’s son.”

I cried out. “Have I just wasted my breath calling you a good man, Hephaestus? Ares treats you like a pussy, and we killed his son for you. That should be payment enough!”

Something dark flashed by Hephaestus’s eyes. “They say you’re a foul-mouthed brat who has no respect toward anyone, Cass!”

“That’s fucking slander!” I shouted. “There’s no truth in it!”

“I won’t take your insult personally.” He sniggered. “Business is business. I must have the demigod’s flaming sword, or I won’t forge the blade for you.” He folded his trunk-like arms over his chest to indicate he meant business.

I bit my lip, glaring at him, my mind running through a hundred ideas to counter him.

“Done,” Alaric said. “I’ll give you my sword when you deliver the blade forged in the hottest fire on Earth.”

“Which is right there.” Hephaestus’s shaking finger pointed at the split entry of the volcano cone. “What about the required runes on the finished blade?”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Alaric said, menace rolling off him. “I’ll take care of the runes.” 

My mates would never give final control to anyone outside our tight circle, and they didn’t trust the God of Blacksmiths and Fire, either, no matter how he’d sworn he was on our side.

“Of course, you’re the expert in all runes and spells,” Hephaestus said, pulling his deformed lips up in a sneer. Then he turned on his heel, stalking back toward the gap in the volcano crater.

No one followed him immediately.

The God of Blacksmiths glanced at me over his shoulder. “Aren’t you coming, Cass Saélihn?”

“Must we enter the volcano cave?” I asked. “I’m sweating here already.”

It wouldn’t be that exciting to watch how he inserted the raw steel into the burning lava and pounded it into shape with his famous hammer.

He arched both bushy eyebrows but didn’t do it the right way. He could learn a trick or two from Pyrder. When the fae prince did it, it was beyond sexy. Maybe that could be the payment for Hephaestus to forge the blade? All I needed was to persuade him. I was good at persuasion when I put my mind to it. 

“They say you’re difficult,” Hephaestus said. “I can see that. But fearless?” He shook his big head in disappointment.

My mates growled in warning.

“Who are they?” I demanded, but I was already heading toward the cave mouth after the smith god. “They talk shit anyway, for all I care.”

Hephaestus laughed.

Reys and Lorcan waved for their warrior team to spread out and guard the perimeter of the volcanic mountain. Alaric and Pyrder beat me to it and followed Hephaestus into the cave, where a pillar of steam and fire rose into the sky from the peak of the cone.

They would never allow me to enter a trap first.

“By the way,” Hephaestus said casually as I strode into the cave after my mates. “This is also the third Gate of Hell, the back entrance to Hades’s Underworld.”