CHAPTER XVI: A BATTLE FOR CONTROL

CHAPTER XVI – A BATTLE FOR CONTROL

Hades appeared outside La Rose. Like all clubs owned by gods, Aphrodite’s was a popular hangout in New Athens. While many mortals came to him looking for love, just as many flocked here, believing that a sip of her drinks or a spray from her infamous pink mist would mean an end to their search for a soulmate.

There was no such thing, of course. No drink or mist that could lead another to their soulmate. That was up to the Fates.

Aphrodite was waiting for him. She wore a silky, light pink dress with a cowl neckline. She looked pale in the light outside her club, her cheeks and lips flushed.

“Do not cause a scene, Hades,” Aphrodite said.

“Says the goddess who started a war over an apple,” Hades snapped. “Where is she?”

The Goddess of Love glared, her frustration with Hades palpable.

“Persephone, Aphrodite.”

“She is dancing.”

Dancing, he thought. With Adonis?

His jaw tightened, and he bared his teeth as he stepped past the goddess, summoning two ogres, Adrian and Ezio, to flank him.

“Hades!” Aphrodite’s voice was sharp, the tone of a woman who had fought and killed on the battlefield.

Hades paused, but did not turn to look at the goddess.

“You will not hurt him.” Her voice shook as she spoke.

He said nothing and stepped into the darkness of the club, straightening his jacket and smoothing his hair.

I’m an idiot, he scolded himself. He called up his glamour so that he would be invisible as he came to the edge the dance floor, where people moved in a hypnotic tangled of limbs. Overhead, lights flashed, and pink mist hung heavy in the air. The smell of roses and sweat clung to his skin, and somewhere in this chaos, was Persephone.

With Adonis.

He gritted his teeth.

Had he not warned her to stay away from the mortal?

Hades glanced at Adrian and Ezio, and the ogres branched off to the left and right while he took the middle. Mortals made space for him, unaware he walked among them. He scanned faces, searching for Persephone’s familiar features. His chest felt tight and his breaths grew shallow as he looked for her, thinking of all the sin he had seen upon Adonis’s soul. He was a predator and a liar.

Were they somewhere in the shadows together? Was he touching her the way Hades longed to touch her? The thought made him feel violent.

And then he found her in Adonis’s arms, and everything seemed to move in slow motion. He realized he had never really known rage. This was primal. It jolted his whole body and made him quiver. He wanted to roar, to strike fear in each and every person in this room, just so they would cease their unabashed revelry.

Adonis’ hand cupped her head, fingers twining in her glossy hair, and his lips were pressed against hers so hard, his nose was bent. But it was Persephone’s body language he watched—the way she pushed against the mortal’s chest the closer he tried to bring her, the way she clamped her lips together, refusing to partake of his, the tear that slipped down her cheek the longer he held her there.

This is torture, Hades thought.

All of a sudden, everything resumed its usual speed. Adrian and Ezio appeared, each fixing a hand on Adonis’ shoulder, and yanked him away from Persephone. Hades moved toward her, unsure of what he intended to do, but wanting to be near her, to comfort her.

The goddess turned toward him as she wiped her mouth, her eyes meeting his.

“Hades.” She breathed his name, and the sound made him shiver. He was further surprised when she threw her arms around her waist and buried her head in his chest. For a moment, he was frozen. Had he not just wished to offer her comfort? Why was he suddenly unable to move? Slowly, he pressed a hand to her back, the other twining with her hair, hating that Adonis’s fingers had experienced the feel of her.

He held her for a moment and wanted to hold her longer, but they needed to leave this place, so he drew his finger beneath her chin, tilting her head until her eyes met his.

“Are you well?”

She shook her head.

Hades gritted his teeth, quashing the urge to find Adonis and grind him into ash.

“Let’s go.”

He drew her against him and guided her toward the exit. Like before, the crowd parted, but this time, it was because they could see him. He had dropped his invisibility when he approached Persephone and had not bothered to glamour up again. They stilled and stared while the music blared.

“Hades—”

“They will not remember this,” Hades assured, knowing her anxiety would rise at the thought of being seen together like this in public. The media would descend, the headlines would speculate. She would become the story, not the storyteller.

As much as she did not want that to happen, Hades did not either, and as they came to the edge of the crowd, his magic rippled out, stealing memories and returning the floor to its blissful chaos.

Then Persephone tried to bolt.

“Lexa!”

She moved too fast and swayed. Hades wasn’t certain if she tripped or if she had too much to drink. Either way, he bent to gather her into his arms, unwilling to risk having to chase after her.

“I will ensure she gets home safe,” he promised.

He watched her face, seeing her close her eyes tight and frowned.

“Persephone?”

“Hmm?” Her voice vibrated, her breath teased his lips, carrying the scent of wine and something metallic he could not quite place.

“What’s wrong?”

“Dizzy,” she whispered.

He didn’t speak but left the building. If he stayed any longer, he would burn it to the ground and incur the wrath of Aphrodite, something he might welcome to free himself of this rage. Outside, the air was cool, and Persephone started to shiver, burrowing closer to his chest. She took a deep breath.

“You smell good.”

Her small hands curled into his jacket, and he chuckled at her lack of inhibition, holding her tighter as he ducked into the back of his limo. He considered keeping her cradled against him until they arrived at Nevernight, but decided against it. She had been accosted on the floor of La Rose, and probably wanted distance. Plus, she was cold. He helped her into the seat beside him and adjusted the controls so the heat would warm her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice quiet, and Hades looked at her as he sat back in his seat.

“You don’t listen to orders.”

She offered a breathy laugh. “I don’t take orders from you, Hades.”

They sat close, shoulders and arms and legs touching, heads inclined, sharing breath and heat and space, and he knew he was in trouble because his whole body had gone rigid, including his cock.

“Trust me, darling. I’m aware.”

“I’m not yours, and I’m not your darling.”

Hades watched her, searching her meadow-green eyes, glassy from alcohol and simmering with oppressed passion. When he spoke, his voice was gruff, heavy with arousal.

“We’ve been through this, haven’t we? You are mine. I think you know that just as well as I do.”

She crossed her arms, accentuating her breasts, and lifted her chin in challenge. “Have you ever thought that maybe you’re mine, instead?”

Her words ignited a fire low in his belly, and the corners of his mouth lifted, eyes falling to her wrist. “It is my mark upon your skin.”

There was a beat of silence, and it burned the air between them. Then she straddled him, her hands on his shoulders, her shapely legs gripping his thighs. Her softness pressed against all his hard edges, and he grit his teeth, fingers curling into fists at his sides. He wanted to touch her, press her closer, feel her harder, but she had been drinking and it did not seem right.

A smile curled her lips, and he felt like his eyes were on fire, burning into her soul. She knew what she was doing, teasing him, challenging him. She leaned close, the tips of her breasts grazing his chest.

“Should I leave a mark?” she asked, her voice hushed.

“Careful, goddess,” Hades cautioned. She was playing with darkness, and he would consume her.

She rolled her eyes. “Another order.”

“A warning.” The words grated between his teeth. Finally, he could take it no longer. His hands fastened on her bare thighs, and he was rewarded with the sound of Persephone’s breath catching in her throat. He tilted his head a little so that their lips were level. Her hands had moved, fingers tangling with his hair at the base of his neck. “But we both know you don’t listen, even when it’s good for you.”

“You think you know what’s good for me?” Her lips brushed his as she spoke. “You think you know what I need?”

He chuckled, and his hands traveled beneath her dress, seeking her heat. Persephone gasped.

“I don’t think, goddess, I know. I could make you worship me.”

The air around them felt heavy and charged, potent with their hunger. Hades found it impossible to concentrate on anything but her—every part of her body that touched his, the smell of vanilla in her hair, the way she bit down on her lush lip as she stared at his own.

Then she kissed him, and he opened for her, their tongues sliding together, tasting, exploring, demanding. His hands moved to her back and he pressed her close, his arousal fitting between her thighs, growing harder as she became more frenzied, fingers coiling into his hair, forcing his head back, kissing him deeper and harder than he had ever imagined. He couldn’t help wondering… Was this the reaction of a woman who believed he was tense and cold and boorish?

When she pulled away, it was with his lip between her teeth. She leaned in, her tongue touching his earlobe, then her teeth.

“You will worship me,” she said, grinding against his cock. “And I won’t even have to order you.”

Oh, darling, he thought. If you only knew how I worship you now.

His hands dropped to her thighs again, gripping her tight. Something primal was unfurling inside him, and he wanted to know what it would feel to be inside her. He could have her like this, seated in the back of this car. He would take pleasure in the way she moved up and down his shaft, her breasts bouncing as she found release.

And despite his vivid imagination and his desperate wish to have her in any and every way, he found himself shifting her so that she was cradled against him and lowering her dress. He managed to shimmy out of his jacket and covered her with it. He had to remove the temptation or at least restrain it. He would not let her regret him.

And yet, as their passion dissolved into an awkward and abrupt silence, he could not shake the feeling that maybe she already did. He glared out the window, though he felt her gaze on him. After a moment, she spoke, her words heated and whispered.

“You’re just afraid.”

She was not wrong.

He was afraid that even by some miracle she decided she did not hate him, the Fates would take her from him. It was an all too real possibility, especially after the disaster that was this evening. Sisyphus had slipped through his hands again.

When they arrived at Nevernight, Antoni helped Persephone out of the cabin of the limo. Hades took over from there, leading her into the club, nodding to Mekonnen as they passed. Before they entered the main part of the club, Hades used his glamour so that they moved unseen across the packed floor, up the stairs, and to his office. He was too nervous to teleport with her at the moment and did not want to make her sick, fearing she had too much to drink.

Once they were inside his office, he dropped his glamour and crossed the floor to his bar, pouring her a glass of water.

When he looked up, he was struck by her beauty. Why did it hit him differently every time he looked at her? Tonight, she wore teal, and it made her skin look bronzed and her hair look like spun gold.

He pushed the glass across the table. “Drink.”

She approached as he poured himself a drink. As he finished, she swiped it from the table.

“Persephone,” Hades growled, and she smiled, his glass raised to her lips.

“Yes, Hades?”

Her voice was husky and made him grip the edge of the table hard. She sipped the whiskey and then turned, strolling across the floor. Her hips swayed, drawing his attention.

“I think you should stop drinking,” he said.

“You are bossy.”

“I am not bossy. I’m…advising.”

“Isn’t someone supposed to ask for your advice before you offer it?” she asked as she turned and leaned against his desk.

“The same could be said for your opinion.”

She glared at him.

“Why did you bring me here?”

Hades came out from behind the bar and approached.

“Because I wanted you safe.” He took the glass from her and held her gaze as he downed the remainder before setting it aside.

“I don’t think I’m safe with you,” she whispered when he looked at her again.

Hades did not know what those words meant, but he felt compelled to say, “I would never hurt you.”

“You don’t know that.”

They stared at one another, before he lifted his hand. “Come.”

He led her toward the wall behind his desk, and he noted her hesitation in the way she pulled away from his touch.

“Why don’t we just teleport?”

“It makes you dizzy,” he said. “And I’d rather not contribute to that given your…state.”

Persephone’s eyes narrowed, and her lips pressed flat. “I’m not in a state.”

He sighed inwardly and tugged on her hand, and she followed him through the wall, which was really a portal, or gate, into the Underworld. Those who entered here would find themselves in a cavernous entrance called Cape Tenaron. There, they would be met by the River Styx, a body of water they would likely not survive.

Hades could use this entrance to go anywhere in the Underworld he wished, and when they stepped through, they found themselves in his chambers.

He indicated the bed. “Rest. When you wake, we will talk.”

He had questions, about Adonis and about her article in New Athens News.

“I don’t want to rest,” she said.

Hades just stared at her.

“Ask me what I want, Hades.”

He wanted to groan. This was torture, and worse, he indulged her.

“What do you want?”

“To finish what we started in the limo.”

It was significant to him that she had not responded with ‘you.’ And only solidified his wish to ensure they go no further than they had.

“No, Persephone.”

She scowled. “You want me.”

He said nothing; he could not deny it and would not admit it.

She pushed away from him and walked toward the bed, slipping the straps of her dress off her shoulders.

“Persephone—”

“What?”

She turned toward him, and her dress fell in a puddle at her feet. She stood bare before him, all golden skin and glorious curves.

“Tell me you don’t want me.”

He swallowed hard, clenching his hands at his sides. So many emotions swirled inside him, a carnal need to claim her and protect her. He could not do both. He reached for the robe she had worn the last time she was here; it hung in the same place, on the screen behind where she’d changed. He held it out so that she could slip her arms inside.

“Get dressed, Persephone.”

She glared at him and snatched the robe from his hands, but she did not put it on. Instead, she stared at him.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He hadn’t because if he said he did not want her, that would be a lie, and admitting it would be inviting her to his bed.

She touched him, her hands sliding down his arms, pausing at his fists.

“Let go,” she coaxed, stepping into him and placing his hands on her hips, his fingers splayed, digging into her skin. Was this some sort of trial? Had this woman been sent to test his control? He studied her hard, expecting her to vanish into smoke, but she did not. She remained there, solid and warm and soft beneath him. Her hands twined behind his neck, her bare breasts pressed against his chest.

“Hades?” She whispered his name, breath caressing his lips. “Hold me.”

Her mouth closed over his, and his arms tightened around her waist. He drew her against him tight, one hand breaking free to glide up her back to the nape of her neck, where he held her head, lips pressing hard against hers, urging her mouth open wide, tasting and taking. Persephone’s hands moved from around his neck, down his chest, to his crotch. She grasped his cock through the fabric of his slacks, and he groaned, tearing free from her mouth.

“Persephone.”

“I want to touch you,” she said, and suddenly, Hades found himself being guided back toward his bed. She pushed him, guiding him to lie flat on the silken sheets, and as she climbed on top of him, straddling him, naked and rosy and beautiful, he thought he might come then. She leaned over him, her hot and soft center rocking against his hard length, the tips of her breasts barely touching his chest.

“Let me please you,” she whispered, and kissed him again.

His hands landed on her sides, and he rolled, pinning her beneath him. He took her wrists and guided them over her head.

“You please me,” he said, kissing her swollen lips a final time, reveling in the way her body arched against his, warmed with need. It was a reminder of why he had to stop this. “Sleep.”

The command came with a rush of magic that instantly sent Persephone into a deep slumber. Hades paused there a moment, suspended over her, before rolling off onto his back.

He sighed, full of frustration and rage, and growled.

“Fucking Fates.”