God of War (Gates of the Underworld #4) Read Online H.P. Mallory, J.R. Rain

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Myth/Mythology, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors: , Series: Gates of the Underworld Series by H.P. Mallory
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Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 46982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
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The Fourth Gate of the Underworld is a landscape of ice and death…

The first three gates were no walk in the park, but when I arrive at Gate Four, I face all new horrors.
Led by the infamous Fallen God, Chaena, Gate Four is a land of neverending winter, of ice and snow amid a blizzard that could put Minnesota weather to shame.
As if the weather wasn’t bad enough, this level of the Underworld is also guarded by ice fae, whose touch is lethal and who seem like they really want to touch me.
At least I have the hunky Adonis by my side—a man who has become my friend, my protector, and my lover.
Strangely enough, I’m starting to believe I might be able to add one other person to that list (er, not the lover part)… Hades, The Lord of the Underworld, the supreme god of this terrible place.
Right.
Believe it or not, Hades keeps popping in at the most unexpected moments to deliver me from whatever awfulness I’m facing. And he’s got a message for me: he’s rooting for me, whatever that means.
I can only hope I survive Gate Four and Chaena’s deathly winter so I can make it to the Fifth Gate and finally face-off with Ares.

Full Book:

ONE

PEN

I always assumed the Underworld would be hot, probably because I equated it with Hell.

There’s a certain preconception involved, I guess. Dante’s Inferno was kind of a big deal as a trope setter so I’d been expecting ashes, volcanos, and rivers of fire, which I do realize is kind of silly. I’d been warned that this had once been the domain of Morevna, the Goddess of Death and Winter, which did imply a certain aesthetic. Still, stepping through into the Fourth Gate, the bone-chilling cold that slammed into me nearly caused me to dive back through in shock.

It wasn’t just cold.

I’d done cold before. I’d stood on the tops of snow-covered mountain peaks, I’d huddled through a mid-western winter where the slush, the ice and the drifts pile up and grind a city to a halt for hours.

But this… this is something else. This is the sort of cold that steals your breath and freezes to ice inside your lungs. This is cold that could rot the flesh off your bones as your body struggles to keep your blood from freezing, to keep your heart beating just a few seconds longer.

Looking out over the once domain of the Goddess of Winter, a pitiless landscape of glaciers, snow, and frozen lakes as far as the eye can see, the only word that comes to my mind is ‘bleak’.

Adonis steps through the gate at my side, and I hear the startled, punched-out breath he gives at the first inhale. Honestly, without the blessing of the god, Erio, whom we’d freed in the Third Gate, I’m not sure we would have survived long enough to make it ten steps from this one. But the Sirocco, that warm, dry desert wind, curls inside our armor and blows gently over our faces to keep the biting teeth of the cold at bay.

The moment Adonis steps through, I reach over and grab his hand. Partly just to keep us from being separated. It might not be a rain of fire and ash, but the storm howling through the sky is even more deadly.

Snow and ice fall in stinging lines as the blizzard rages across the land. Wind tears at my armor, rattling the sword at my side, and I have to grip the hilt with my free hand or risk having it torn away from me. Squinting against the squall, I try to keep the snow from blinding me. If Adonis says something, I can’t hear him over the howling gale.

I grab his hand, knowing we don’t have much time left; the countdown is ticking in my head like a bomb ready to explode. I need to get to the Fifth Gate. I have less than half my time left to traverse the Underworld and reclaim my sister’s soul from Ares, and that time is whipping by at an unnaturally fast rate. They say time flies when you’re having fun. Well, apparently it races when you’re desperately fighting your way through Hell.

I want a break. No, I need one.

To just sit down for a minute and process everything that’s happened. But there isn’t time. The phantoms Kanto, the Fallen Daemon, had thrown at me are still haunting me, their horrible whispers following me no matter that I’ve literally moved to a different level in the Underworld. I probably need an entire case of wine and a century in therapy, but that will all have to wait until I have Janie back and made the so-called ‘God of War’ regret ever looking at her.

Ares is still planning on killing me, no doubt, to wage war on Olympus and, more pointedly, my mother. That knowledge doesn’t make things better, but at least I can kind of understand it. Sort of. In a really bizarre way. My mother can be… difficult.


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