Chapter XXXVI: Hades

CHAPTER XXXVI

HADES

Hades was not surprised that Ariadne would not help them actively plan against Theseus. She had been under his spell for a long time and knew what he was capable of. Clearly, she had come to see one too many of his threats realized.

After she left with Dionysus, he sat with Ilias.

“Those two fucked,” the satyr said.

“Finally,” said Hades, downing his whiskey in one swallow. “Did Hermes give you an update on the warehouse and the club?”

“Yes,” Ilias said. “It went up in flames last night.”

It was good to know, considering Hades expected retaliation from Theseus.

“I don’t know if I made the right decision,” he said. He knew that warehouse in the Lake District wasn’t the only place Theseus was storing weapons. He wasn’t that stupid, though he hoped it had made a dent in his arsenal all the same.

“I don’t know that there are right or wrong decision where we are headed,” said Ilias. “There are just decisions and their consequences.”

Hades supposed that was right.

Then he noticed how the satyr’s eyes shifted from him and widened. He sat up in his chair.

“Hades, the news.”

But he had already turned to see the headline flash across the screen:

Explosion and Shots Fired at Talaria Stadium.

Here was Theseus’s retribution.

---

Hades appeared in the middle of the chaos of Talaria Stadium.

The magic of the gods hung heavy in the air as they fought amid the sounds of horrified screams, clashing metal, and gunshots.

“Persephone!” Apollo screamed as a bullet struck her shoulder.

She staggered, and as she fell, Hades caught her, sweeping her up into his arms as she gave a guttural cry.

“I’ve got you,” he said and immediately took her to the Underworld, leaving the mayhem at the stadium to the other Olympians.

Fucking Fates.

How many times was this going to happen?

He set her on the bed, only having enough patience to help her out of her jacket. Once it was off, he tore her dress to reach and inspect her wound.

“Wh-what are you doing?” she said, the words slipping between her gritted teeth.

“I need to see if the bullet left your body,” Hades said. When he looked at her back, there was an exit wound.

“Let me heal it,” she said.

“Persephone—”

“I have to try,” she argued. “Hades—”

He forced himself to step back, though he wanted to do it himself. He was faster and it would make him feel better. Of all the times she wanted practice, why now?

“Do it, Persephone,” he barked. He had not intended to sound so hostile. This couldn’t be any easier for her. She was the one who was hurt, but he couldn’t help panicking.

She took deep breaths and then closed her eyes. He watched her wound for any signs that her magic was working, growing frustrated the longer she just lay there bleeding.

“Now,” he said, impatient, but he saw her magic at work as the wound began to close.

“I did it,” she said with a smile when she opened her eyes.

“You did,” he said, though he wanted to double-check just in case. And then he wanted to return and help his fellow Olympians kill those who had attacked the stadium. He would leave their bodies a mangled mess for all to see as a warning to anyone who might think to participate or continue these horrible assaults.

“What are you thinking?” Persephone asked, drawing his attention.

“Nothing you wish to know,” he said softly. “Let’s clean you up.”

He took her into the bathroom, carrying her though he knew she could walk perfectly well. When they had undressed, he kissed her and touched her shoulder to ensure it was fully healed.

She pulled away, looking at the now-smooth skin.

“Was I not good enough?” she asked.

“Of course you are good enough, Persephone,” he said. He had not intended to make her feel any less. “I am overprotective and fearful for you, and perhaps selfishly, I wish to remove anything that reminds me of my failure to protect you.”

“Hades, you did not fail,” she said.

“We will agree to disagree,” he said.

“If I am enough, then you are enough,” she insisted.

He hoped one day he would believe that.

Her hands moved over his chest and around his neck.

“I am sorry,” she said. “I never wanted to see you suffer again, not like you did in the days following Tyche’s death.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said and kissed her.

They showered together, hands smoothing over soapy skin until both of them felt flushed and wanting, but Hades could not bring himself to act on his desires—too much had occurred tonight. Instead, he relied on words and told her he loved her.

“I love you,” she said, voice quiet. “More than anything.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and as they trailed down her face, he whispered her name and gathered her into his arms. He carried her from the shower to the fire, sitting with her nestled against his chest.

“All those people…gone,” she whispered.

Mass death was never easy, and they’d had a lot of it in a short amount of time.

“You will not be able to console everyone who makes their way to the gates unexpectedly, Persephone. Those deaths are far too numerous. Take comfort. The souls of Asphodel are there, and they will represent you well.”

“They represent you too, Hades,” she reminded him and grew quiet for a moment before asking, “What about the attackers who died tonight?”

“They await punishment in Tartarus.” He paused, holding her gaze. “Do you wish to go?”

She offered him a small smile. It wasn’t humorous, more an acknowledgment that he had changed.

“Yes,” she said. “I wish to go.”

---

Hades took Persephone to Tartarus, to his den of monsters. Some of the creatures here were dead while others were living and merely prisoners, but that did not change their usefulness when it came to torture.

Persephone looked around, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. The magic was heavy here, different, and it hung in the air like a winter chill, suppressing the power of the monsters within.

Now and then, the faint echo of a growl, shriek, or scream echoed outside the dungeon.

“There are monsters here,” Hades explained.

“What…kind of monsters?” she asked.

“Many,” he said, raising his brows a little. “Some are here because they were slain. Some are here because they were captured. Come.”

He led her through the gates and into the dungeon, down the darkened walkway, past shadowed cells. All the while, the animal-like sounds of the monsters grew louder, cut through with a horrible wail.

“The harpies,” Hades said. They were half-human, half-bird creatures who were often insatiable in their hunger for food and were used in punishments to starve mortals. “Aello, Ocypete, and Celaeno—they get restless, especially when the world is chaos.”

“Why?”

“Because they sense evil and wish to punish.”

They continued, passing cells occupied by chimeras, griffins, sirens, and the Sphinx. Persephone did not pause long before any of the bays and remained close to Hades as they made their way to the very end of the cell, which was barred by a massive gate.

“What is this?” Persephone asked.

“That is a hydra,” Hades said. “Its blood, venom, and breath are poisonous.”

He had been responsible for its death when Hera had forced him to fight the creature during her notorious Fight Night. It had not been easy. It had seven heads that grew back even after they were cut off. He’d only managed to defeat it with fire, and in the end, it had become a resident of the Underworld.

“And the mortals in the pool?” she asked. “What did they do?”

Hades’s eyes dropped to the men and women at the hydra’s feet. They were all sitting in a pool of black venom that dripped from the creature’s fangs, their bodies covered in horrible sores and burns as it ate away at their bodies slowly.

“They are the terrorists who attacked the stadium.”

“Is this their punishment?”

“No. Think of this as their holding cell.”

She was quiet and then looked up at him.

“And how will you punish them?” she asked.

“Perhaps…you would like to decide?”

He was a little hesitant to hand over the task, uncertain of how she might feel about torture. She’d been hesitant when it came to Pirithous. She’d asked him if it helped. He still wasn’t sure, but it was fair to say that in the moment, vengeance felt good.

Her gaze returned to the souls.

“I wish for them to exist in a constant state of fear and panic. To experience what they inflicted upon others. They will exist, for eternity, in the Forest of Despair.”

“So you shall have it,” he said, and then he offered his hand. As her fingers settled into his, the souls beneath the hydra vanished. “Let me show you something,” he said, taking her to the library, which contained a basin that acted as both an accurate map of the Underworld and a portal. “Show the Forest of Despair,” he said, and the water changed to show the souls that had sat in the hydra’s venom and their punishment in the forest.

The reality of the forest was that it became whatever one feared.

When Persephone had entered it, she had found Hades in Leuce’s embrace. When Hades entered it, he saw nothing.

Persephone watched for a while and then turned away, stepping down from the basin. “I have seen enough.”

Hades followed and reached for her hand, worried that he had gone too far in showing her the horrors of the forest even if she knew them.

“Are you well?” he asked.

“I am…satisfied,” she said. “Let’s go to bed.”

He did not argue, and they made their way back to their bedchamber, but he couldn’t help noticing the shift in her energy. It was dark and sensual, and he wanted to taste it on her tongue.

Hades hung back as they entered their room, and he watched as Persephone walked ahead. She slid out of her robes and faced him. His eyes roamed her body—from her full breasts, over her stomach, to the curls at the apex of her thighs. When he met her gaze again, her stare was dark and carnal.

She wanted to fuck.

“Persephone.”

“Hades,” she said.

“You’ve been through a lot. Are you sure you want this tonight?” He never thought those words would come out of his mouth. It wasn’t as if this wasn’t their usual way, but he wanted her to be sure. Today had been harrowing, full of emotions and experiences neither of them had processed.

“It’s all I want.”

He didn’t argue further and closed the distance between them, bringing his lips to hers. She opened for him, and it was easy to become lost in everything that she was—soft and warm and eager. He thought that perhaps this was what he loved most, her obvious desire. He felt it so often for her, and he loved when she could not be contained.

Her hands dipped beneath his robes, and he helped her remove them so he could feel her skin against his, liking the way his rigid cock felt against her coarse curls. He couldn’t wait to bury himself inside her, to feel her clench around him as she came. It was that feeling he was addicted to—that release he was chasing.

She kissed down his chest and stomach until she knelt before him. Taking the base of his erection into her hand, she let her lips close over the tip where his come beaded.

“Is this okay?” she asked, looking up at him from the floor.

It was almost comical to him that she would ask, given that he wanted nothing more than to watch her take him into her mouth.

“More than,” he said and was rewarded with the touch of her tongue again. She took her time, kissing along his shaft, drawing her tongue over every ridge she could find, and then she took him to the back of her throat, swallowing around the crown of his cock.

He threw his head back, gritting his teeth, muscles tensing, his body on the very edge of release, but he wasn’t ready for this to be over.

As he came down from that first intense high, he looked at her, her lips still wrapped around his cock.

“You don’t know the things I wish to do to you.”

The thing about her mouth, about her magic, about her, was that it made him want everything with her—things that went beyond anything he’d considered doing with anyone before.

She rose to her feet, holding his gaze.

“Show me,” she whispered.

He wanted to groan. Fuck. She was perfect.

His hand slid behind her neck, and he gripped her there. As he kissed her hard on the mouth, he guided her back to the bed and lay her at its center. He hovered over her, her body trapped between his thighs as he continued to kiss her, his tongue lapping at hers. The longer he kissed her, the more she writhed beneath him, arching against him just to feel the friction between their hips.

She was making this harder, and he was trying to make this last longer.

His fingers clamped down on her wrists, and he drew them over her head before she could reach for him, before she undid every reason he’d had for bringing her to this bed in the first place, and called on his magic to restrain her.

When she felt the brush of his magic, she pulled away and looked up at his bindings.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice quiet.

He couldn’t tell by her expression, and that made him uneasy, but one word from her and he would take them away immediately. It was only something he wished to explore with her, not something he needed.

She nodded and he took that chance to appreciate the way she looked. She was art and he wanted to make her feel like that beneath his hands. This was a type of embrace, a way for her to truly feel how he saw her—as the center of the universe.

“I will make you writhe,” he said, stretching out over her body. “I will make you scream. I will make you come so hard, you will feel it for days.”

He kissed her mouth and then down her body, starting with her breasts. He took each hard peak into his mouth, teasing with this tongue and grazing with his teeth. Beneath him, she squirmed, and he wondered how wet she would be when he finally reached her center. He could feel her heat, and as her hips ground against him, her slick center moved over his knee.

It made him far more eager for the descent.

But even as he hovered between her thighs, he still took his time, holding her gaze as he kissed every part of her. Her body was flushed from frustration, likely because if her arms weren’t pinned over her head, her fingers would be tangled in his hair, and she would pull him against her heat.

He spread her thighs until her legs were flat against the bed and dragged his tongue along her wet heat. Her body arched against the bed, her hands fisting in the restraints.

“Hades,” she moaned, and he pressed into her deeper, tongue caught between the walls of her silken flesh, his fingers teasing her erect clit.

He held her harder as she began to move against him, chasing her release. She was on the edge—he could feel it in the way her body strained, the way her muscles tightened. It made his blood rush to the head of his cock, which lay heavy and rigid against his own stomach.

“Hades!”

It was the way she said his name this time that alerted him that something was wrong. He drew back as her heels dug into the bed and she yanked against the bindings. Her eyes were open and wide, but it was like she wasn’t seeing anything—not in this present moment anyway.

Fuck. He wished he’d never had this idea.

He banished the bindings quickly, wishing he’d done so sooner.

Fuck.

“Persephone.” He tried to reach for her, but she lashed out, and her hand came down on his cheek, full of thorns. The pain was biting, and blood dripped between them onto her skin. She seemed to be awake now, her face pale and her horror evident. She started to reach for him but realized her hands were still full of thorns.

She burst into tears, holding her hands away from her body.

For a few brief seconds, he was too stunned to move, too confused by what had happened. He was trying to remember exactly when things had gone wrong. How had they gone so wrong? He’d thought she was enjoying this. Was it possible she never had?

Finally, he moved and pulled her to him, though he wasn’t sure he was what she needed or wanted. He’d been too self-concerned to even realize that she was suffering.

“I did not know,” Hades said. “I did not know. I’m sorry. I love you.”

But there came a point when even he couldn’t speak.