Chapter XII

Chapter XII

An Appeal for Trust

After his encounter with Apollo, Hades needed an outlet to channel his frustration, so he teleported to the Cavern, the oldest part of Tartarus, which was large and resonant. Stone formations made it almost mazelike and offered the opportunity for Hades to create designated spaces for various types of torture—and sport.

The room he had chosen was longer than it was wide. Opposite him was a wall of scarred wood, and at its center, a man was suspended. He was dead, an ax embedded in his chest.

Hades removed his jacket and shirt, hanging them on a hook just over a wooden table where he kept an array of tools and a whetstone for sharpening them. He also removed his shoes and socks, wishing to feel the sandy floor beneath his feet. Once he stood, wearing only his trousers, he approached the dead man, pulling the ax from his body and reviving him.

The man took a gasping breath, and it was a moment before his eyes settled on Hades. Once they did, he began to weep.

“Not again,” he begged. “Please.”

Hades turned and walked away, speaking as he put distance between them.

“Are those the words your victims used while you raped them and before you murdered them?” he asked. He twisted the ax in his hand before laying it aside to prepare his station for sharpening it. This was a sacred process, and he believed it created a stronger bond between himself and the weapon. It meant that the tool would behave better, in battle or otherwise. So he took his time, soaking the stones and increasing the grit as his ax got sharper and sharper. When he was finished, he turned toward the man.

His name was Felix.

“Please, please, please,” he whispered over and over, drool dripping from his mouth.

Yet there was one thing missing to his pleas. Actual tears.

Hades brought the ax over his right shoulder to throw, releasing when the handle was straight up and down. It landed with a crack in the wood, in the hollow between Felix’s shoulder and neck, and the prisoner whimpered.

“Why do you do this?” he howled.

Hades turned back to the table and grabbed another ax.

He took aim again, and this time, it landed between the man’s legs, only a hair from his balls.

“You motherfucker!” Felix roared. The veins in his neck popped, his eyes went wide, and the true nature of his soul surfaced, angry, terrifying. “Just kill me!”

“Killing you defeats the purpose,” Hades replied.

The rapist’s eternal torture was to be under a constant state of stress. Each time Hades took aim was another second spent wondering if this blow would be his last. It was the same horrible agony the man had put his victims through.

Hades ignored Felix and retrieved another ax.

“I will kill you!” the man seethed. “I will kill you and your lover!”

Hades paused and turned toward the man. “What did you say?”

This was not usual, not for Felix and not for any soul. They did not leave Tartarus. They were never aware of anything outside their eternal punishment.

“That’s right,” Felix said, a sickening gleam to his eyes. “I know about your lover. The blond. She takes up most of your time now…and your thoughts.”

Hades did not want to ask how he knew, did not want to give him anything he might hold on to and repeat when he was revived again later.

“I’ll find her. I’ll have fun too. I’ll taste her like you’ve tasted her and then I’ll carve her from the inside out.”

There was no way he could, of course. Even if he managed to escape his bonds, he would not make it out of this cavern.

The problem was, how did he know?

Hades let his arm fall, his fingers still tight around the ax handle.

The gleam in Felix’s eyes dimmed, replaced by a subtle panic. He’d likely thought his words would lead to a quick death—and they would, but not in the way he’d imagined.

“You think you have power here, mortal?” Hades asked, gathering magic into his hand. It was energy that warmed his hand, and while invisible to the mortal’s eyes, Hades knew he could feel it.

Everyone could feel death.

“How wrong you are.”

Hades teleported and appeared before the man in a second, the magic in his hand manifesting in the form of a black spike he shoved into the bottom of his chin, straight through his head. Blood spattered on Hades’s face, spilling from the soul’s mouth and wide eyes. The kill was far less than he deserved. Hades had wanted to destroy his soul, but doing so would be the end of discovering how he knew about Persephone, which was of great concern to him. He would need to bring him back to life later to learn more. Knowledge of her should have ended at the borders of Tartarus. How then did this mediocre prisoner know of the existence of his lover?

“Thanatos!”

Hades jerked his hand free, allowing his magic to dissipate. As he turned, he came face-to-face with the God of Death. He was a pale wraith, cloaked in shadow. His deep-blue eyes, usually as bright as sapphires, hardened and darkened as his gaze slipped from Hades’s to his bloodied prisoner.

“Are you well, my lord?” he asked.

“No,” Hades said. “Tell me how a prisoner of Tartarus knew enough about Persephone to threaten her.”

Thanatos’s eyes widened. “I…I cannot say,” he said, stumbling over his words, and then his mouth tightened. “But I will find out.”

“See that you do,” Hades replied.

He left Tartarus and bathed at the palace. Once he was dressed, he went in search of Persephone. Felix’s words urged him to find her while Hecate’s urged him to teach her and to be honest. All he wanted at this moment was to be near her. To know that she was safe.

This time when he went in search of her, he could feel the caress of her magic, though faint, and followed it to the silvery grove of trees he had gifted her. He found her kneeling in a patch of periwinkle and white phlox, her hands stretched out over a small, round section that had begun to wither. The energy around her was chaotic, and while there were moments when he felt her magic surge and focus on her task, it was soon overtaken by the turmoil of her thoughts.

After a few moments, she settled back, her body overwhelmed with her failure.

Hades stepped forward and settled behind her, letting his legs frame her body, drawing her back against his chest. He liked this, liked her scent, liked how her body settled against his in comfort despite the anger that had preceded this moment.

“You are practicing your magic?” he asked, voice quiet.

“More like failing,” she said.

“You aren’t failing,” he said. He spoke near her ear and offered a small laugh at how desolate her voice sounded, only because she was wrong. “You have so much power.”

“Then why can’t I use it?”

“You are using it.”

“Not…correctly.”

“Is there a correct way to use your magic?”

He felt her frustration, obviously not understanding how he viewed her progress toward harnessing her magic. He wrapped his fingers around her wrists like cuffs, watching as chills pebbled up her arms.

“You use your magic all the time—when you are angry, when you are aroused…”

She had no trouble calling vines to ensnare him for the purpose of their pleasure, and at the thought, he let his lips trail across her shoulder, a light touch that made her shiver.

“That is not magic,” she breathed.

“Then what is magic?” he asked.

“Magic is…” Her voice faded away as she considered what to say, finally answering. “Control.”

Her response made him chuckle. Magic, in its most basic form, was wild.

“Magic is not controlled. It is passionate, expressive. It reacts to emotions, no matter your level of expertise.”

Just like her, he thought as he moved his hands to hold hers.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed, mouth near her ear once more. She obeyed without hesitation. He had to wonder if she did so to escape the sweet tension rising between them. “Tell me what you feel.”

“I feel…warm.”

He knew that, and his body was responding, tightening.

“Focus on it,” he whispered, voice low and heavy, betraying his arousal. “Where does it start?”

It grew worse when she answered, “Low. In my stomach.”

He wanted to press his hand there, to tease her until she drew her legs up and granted him access to her heat. Instead, his hands tightened on hers.

“Feed it,” he said.

He could feel her magic surge, an electricity that crackled between them. It called to him, the perfect light to his darkness. It sought balance just as he did.

“Now, where are you warm?”

“Everywhere.”

“Imagine all that warmth in your hands. Imagine it glowing. Imagine it so bright you can barely look at it.”

It was how he saw her—a moon, a star, a sun, a sky at the center of his universe.

“Now imagine the light has dimmed, and in the shadow, you see the life you have created.” His lips touched the shell of her ear as he stared at the energy she’d summoned and used to paint a glimmering likeness of the periwinkle and phlox she’d wanted to grow.

“Open your eyes, Persephone.”

Her lashes fluttered as she followed his instruction, inhaling a breath, and as Hades directed her hands to touch the ground, her magic solidified and the flowers became real—living and breathing. He released her hands then but did not put distance between them, watching as she touched one of the petals, smoothing it between her thumb and forefinger.

“Magic is balance,” he said. “A little control, a little passion. It is the way of the world.”

She turned her head only an inch so that her cheek was against his and her body began to tense. His hands were flat against the ground, but he kept his knees up, cradling her. He wondered what she would do. Would she tear away from him? Put distance between them once more?

Instead, she turned and came up to her knees to face him. Her hands went to his shoulders and she stared at him with glassy eyes, but before she could speak, he plowed ahead, needing to speak.

“I love you. I should have reminded you when I brought you here and each day since. Please forgive me.”

“I forgive you, but only if you’ll forgive me. I was angry about Leuce but angrier that you left me that evening to go to her, and I feel so…ridiculous. I know your reasons and I know you didn’t want to leave me that evening, but I can’t help how I feel about it. When I think about it, I feel… hurt .”

Her admission made his chest hurt and his throat feel tight.

“It pains me to know I hurt you. What can I do?”

“I…don’t know. I suppose what I have done must make up for it. I told you I wouldn’t write about Apollo—I promised you—and then broke that promise.”

All Hades could do was shake his head. “We do not make up for hurt with hurt, Persephone. That is a god’s game. We are lovers.”

“Then how do we make up for hurt?” she asked.

“With time,” he said. “If we can be comfortable being angry with each other for a little while.”

Tears slid down her face, and she whispered, “I don’t want to be angry with you.”

“Nor I with you.” He brushed her tears away. “But it doesn’t change feelings, and it doesn’t mean we can’t care for each other while we heal.”

She swallowed and shook her head. “How is it that I was meant for you?”

Hades frowned. “We’ve discussed this.”

“I just feel so…inexperienced. I am young and rash. How could you want me?” She could not know how those words hurt him.

“Persephone.” He took her hands in his and spoke softly. “First, I will always want you. Always. I failed you here too. I was angry. I didn’t take care of you. I didn’t include you. Don’t put me on a pedestal because you feel guilty for your decisions. Just…forgive yourself so you can forgive me. Please.”

Her breath shuddered out of her, and his eyes lowered to her lips. He wanted to kiss her, to take her body into his and find the comfort they both needed.

She must have guessed his thoughts, because she moved forward on her knees until she straddled him, her arms twining around his neck.

“I’m sorry. I love you. You can trust me, my word. I—”

“Shh, my darling,” he soothed, his hands moving from her waist to her thighs. “I will forever regret my anger. How could I ever question your love? Your trust? Your word? When you have my heart.”

As his hands moved beneath the hem of her dress, she kissed him and he welcomed her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. He had tasted her this way before, but it felt different, far more desperate, far more euphoric. His fingers pressed into her ass as he ground her against his erection, and while he was hungry for release, he was eager to please her more.

His mouth left hers, his tongue trailing along her jaw and neck. “Where are you burning?” he asked.

“Everywhere,” she answered, her breath catching in her throat.

Her hands slipped eagerly beneath his jacket, guiding it off. Impatient, Hades helped, unbuttoning his shirt and shoving it off. With his chest bare, her hands smoothed over his skin. He moved to reach for her, hoping to bring her close once more, but she caught his wrists. Hades’s eyes met hers, brow raised in question.

“Let me pleasure you.” Her words were almost a plea, and he had no energy to deny her. He let her guide him to his back as she hovered over him and kissed him, her body shifting along his hard cock as she made her way there, freeing his sex just to wrap her soft hands around him.

He took a deep breath, and the air that escaped his mouth sounded like a growl.

“Keep looking at me that way, darling. I won’t let you have control for long.”

She smirked and bent to taste his flesh, and he lost all sense of his surroundings. He’d hoped to maintain some measure of control but found himself twisting his fingers into her hair, urging her to take him deeper. She didn’t seem to mind, rising to the challenge of his need.

“Fuck,” he groaned as he hit the back of her throat, and she released him, breathing hard only to continue using her hands and mouth to pleasure him. He did not last long after that, coming hard into her mouth. After a few moments, she climbed his body and kissed him, and he rolled so that she was beneath him.

“Such a gift,” he whispered, stroking her face. “How shall I repay you?”

“Gifts don’t require payment, Hades.”

“Another gift, then,” he said and returned his mouth to hers. She drew her legs up and her hands moved between them, guiding him into her heat.

“This is what I want,” she said, her legs tightening around his waist.

“Who am I to deny a queen?” he said and lost himself in the feel of her, in the way her body moved with his as they lay in her meadow surrounded by their magic.