Chapter II

Chapter II

An Element of Dread

Kill Briareus.

The two words felt thick and heavy in his chest, a binding that made it hard to breathe or think as he made his way to the Underworld.

He had imagined his return very differently. He had intended to occupy himself with erotic thoughts of how he would conclude his weekend with Persephone and see them through to the early morning when they would both face the harsh reality of their choice to go public with their relationship, a decision Hades was not certain either of them was prepared for. Given Kal’s earlier attempt at some kind of blackmail, the sharks were already circling.

Now he was distracted by Hera’s singular order and devising plans to avoid her labors. Hera was not the only god with the power to bless marriages, though her power to curse marriages was far more dreaded. Ultimately, though, the decision was up to Zeus, and Hades did not think his brother would be so approving if Hades were responsible for Briareus’s death.

Gods, he hated his family.

Hades appeared in his office, intending to go in search of Persephone, but found he was not alone. Thanatos was already waiting. The God of Death often kept Hades informed on the daily activities of the souls—especially when things went awry, and it was that thought that gave Hades pause.

“Is something wrong, Thanatos?” Hades asked as the god swept into a deep bow, his long white-blond hair veiling his face.

“No, my lord,” Thanatos replied as he straightened, his dark wings rustling. He looked like a slender shadow, his head crowned with a pair of black gayal horns. “I merely wished to make you aware of an…occurrence.”

“An…occurrence?”

“At the Styx,” he said. “Lady Persephone greeted the souls.”

There was nothing inherently wrong with Persephone greeting the souls, though the way Thanatos was presenting the information made Hades’s heart race.

“Get to the point, Thanatos,” Hades snapped. “Is she okay?”

The God of Death blinked.

“Why yes, of course,” he said quickly. “I did not mean to imply otherwise. I thought you would want to know and perhaps…caution her. You know new souls can be very unpredictable.”

Hades’s relief was instantaneous, though his irritation with Thanatos spiked.

“Are you… tattling , Thanatos?” he asked, raising a brow.

The god’s eyes widened. “I— No, that was not my intention. I only thought you should know…”

The corner of Hades’s mouth lifted. “I will speak with Persephone,” he said. “Though the next time you intend to inform me of her exploits, I suggest you begin with how it ended.”

Thanatos’s pale face turned red. “Yes, my lord.”

Without another word, Hades left his office to find Persephone.

It was not difficult to locate her. He could sense her within his realm, her presence a steady pulse that beat in tandem with his heart. He followed it, drawn to it, and found her in the library, seated in one of the overstuffed chairs near the fireplace. Even if he had not been able to sense her, he would have guessed she took solace here. His library was one of her favorite places in the palace, and he found it comforting that even after their time apart—though he hated to be reminded—she found it so easy to return to her previous routine.

From his place at the door, he could see the very top of her golden head, and as he approached, he found her reading. A chaotic mix of emotions erupted inside—a warm relief and a cold dread.

She was here now.

She was present now.

But the past month had taught him that it could end in an instant, and Hera’s labors did not ease his turmoil, though he managed to suppress the feelings as he drew close.

“I thought I would find you here,” he said and reached for her, seeking her mouth. He curled his fingers beneath her chin, tilted her head, and pressed his lips to hers. She arched to reach him, her hand clamping behind his neck as they fused together.

Hades liked this. It grounded him, reminded him that she was real—that they were real.

He pulled away and brushed her jaw with this thumb, studying her face, lingering longest on her lips, which he wanted to taste once more. Her eyes were brighter today—like the vibrant green of her meadow—and he liked to think it had something to do with him.

“How was your day, darling?” he murmured.

“Good,” she answered, and her breathlessness made him smile.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you. You appeared quite entranced by your book.” He glanced at it before straightening.

“N-no. I mean…it’s just something Hecate assigned.”

“May I?” he asked.

She handed it over and he noted the title, Witchcraft and Mayhem . He refrained from rolling his eyes at Hecate’s choice of assigned reading. Though it was no surprise the Goddess of Magic would choose to teach his lover the art of chaos. It was a type of magic that could be both harmless and destructive, and Hades had no doubt that Hecate had intended to teach Persephone the whole spectrum.

He would have to speak with her later.

“When do you begin training with Hecate?” he asked.

“This week,” she said. “She gave me homework.”

“Hmm,” he acknowledged and leafed through a few more pages before closing the book. “I heard you greeted new souls today.”

He spoke casually, yet as he lifted his gaze to meet hers, she straightened, ready to defend her choice.

“I was walking with Yuri when I saw them waiting on the bank of the Styx.”

“You took a soul outside Asphodel?” That was far more concerning to him than the fact that she had greeted souls.

“It’s Yuri, Hades. Besides, I do not know why you keep them isolated.”

“So they do not cause trouble.”

He admired Persephone for her trust, and of all the souls, Yuri was probably the least likely to break protocol, but offering them free rein of the Underworld would only prove difficult. Even Persephone could not manage to stay out of trouble. The last time she’d wandered into the wild of his realm, she’d found herself face-to-face with Tantalus.

She must have forgotten that encounter because she laughed, her eyes bright with amusement—an amusement that died with his stare. His eyes fell to her lips, which were now parted as she studied him, and his thoughts took a drastic turn.

He drew in a breath and tried to swallow, but his throat was dry. Suddenly, all he wanted to do was close the distance between them. Perhaps he could still have the evening he’d imagined with Persephone before Hera had ruined it all, but then Persephone dropped her gaze.

“The souls in Asphodel never cause trouble,” she said.

“You think I am wrong.”

He wasn’t at all surprised.

“I think you do not give yourself enough credit for having changed and therefore do not give the souls enough credit for recognizing it.”

Her words surprised him and stirred something warm within him.

“Why did you greet the souls?” he asked, curious about what had motivated her to approach.

“Because they were afraid, and I didn’t like it.”

He wanted to laugh, but he managed to suppress it. “Some of them should be afraid, Persephone.”

“Those who should will be, no matter the greeting they have from me. The Underworld is beautiful, and you care about your peoples’ existence, Hades. Why should the good fear such a place? Why should they fear you?”

Once more, he would have laughed at her assessment if she weren’t so serious. If anyone had been listening, they would never suspect she was talking about him, the God of the Underworld, and though there was perhaps a grain of truth to what she said, it was only that, and he feared the day she discovered otherwise.

“As it were, they still fear me. You were the one who greeted them.”

“You could greet them with me.”

She spoke as if she feared he might reject her suggestion as quickly as she had made it.

“As much as you find disfavor with the title of queen, you are quick to act as one,” he observed.

The smile her words initially brought to his face vanished as he noted how she hesitated, asking, “Does…that displease you?”

“Why would it displease me?”

“Because I am not queen.”

Hades did not like those words. It was as if she were distancing herself from the idea, and as she stood and took the book from his hands, he spoke. “You will be my queen. The Fates have declared it.”

He noted how she straightened, her chin jutting in defiance. She had not liked what he said, and instead of confronting him, she turned and headed into the stacks, book in hand.

Hades followed, appearing before her as she made her way down one of the aisles.

“Does that displease you?” he asked.

“No,” she said, brushing past him, and while he followed, she continued to speak. “Although, I would rather you want me as queen because you love me, not because the Fates have decreed it,” she said as she returned the book to its place.

He frowned, waiting for her to face him before he said, “You doubt my love?”

Her eyes widened, and her lips parted. “No! But…I suppose we cannot avoid what others may perceive about our relationship.”

Hades raised a brow and drew a step closer. “And what will others say, exactly?”

Again, she averted her eyes and shrugged as she answered, “That we are only together because of the Fates. That you have only chosen me because I am a goddess.”

His brows slammed down over his eyes. Those sounded oddly like things her mother would say.

“Have I given you reason to think such things?”

He hadn’t.

He already knew the answer.

“Who has given you doubts?”

“I have only just started to consider—”

“My motives?”

“No—”

He narrowed his eyes. “It seems that way.”

She took a step away, though she had little room to put distance between them as her back hit the bookcase, which did nothing to dispel the tension between them.

“I am sorry I said anything,” she snapped, her arms crossing over her chest, as if to put a barrier between them.

“It is too late for that.”

“Will you punish me for speaking my mind?” Her eyes flashed, full of defiance, but those words interested him.

“Punish?” he asked, closing the space between them. He guided her hands away from her chest, his cock growing thick and heavy as he rested against her hips. “I am interested to hear how you think I might punish you.”

She inhaled, her chest rising, and Hades could see the want in her eyes, yet she fought it, unwilling to give in to temptation. “I am interested in having my questions answered.”

He’d forgotten everything that had come before her suggestion of punishment. “Remind me again of your question.”

She looked at him shyly and took a moment to speak. All the while, he grew harder, still pressed between her thighs.

“If there were no Fates, would you still want me?”

An unsettling shock rippled through him as he considered her words.

If there were no Fates, would you still want me? He took a moment to comprehend them, to let them cycle through his mind, but there was a part of him that could not quite grasp why she felt inclined to ask such a question. In the end, did it matter?

The Fates were.

And so they were.

That was all.

Those were not the words she wanted to hear, though, and in truth, they were not enough, because Hades knew that what was between them had gone beyond fate.

And even if their future were to unravel, he would fight for it.

Desperately.

She began to lower her eyes and shift from between him and the shelf, seeking an exit, but he clasped her jaw, forcing her to look at him once more.

When he had captured her attention, his fingers brushed along her cheek as he spoke, low and rough. “Do you know how I knew the Fates made you for me?”

She shook her head.

He leaned in, allowing his parted mouth to touch her skin. “I could taste it on your skin,” he said, and his lips followed the trail of his fingers—along her jaw, over her cheek. “And the only thing I regret is that I have lived so long without you.” His teeth grazed along the shell of her ear and down her neck, a light caress that had her breath seizing. Then he pulled away.

She wavered a moment, and a look of confusion crossed her face before her brows lowered. “What was that?” she demanded.

He smirked, chuckling at her anger, and answered, “Foreplay.”

And then he swept her over his shoulder and left the library.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, her hands pressed into his back as she tried to hold herself up.

“Proving that I want you,” he said.

Since his obviously erect cock wasn’t enough.

“Put me down, Hades!”

He grinned at her breathlessness, and his hand slipped up the back of her thigh and under her skirt, fingers finding her heated intimate flesh. Her moan ignited him, and he suddenly did not care to find a private place for what he intended to do to her. He shifted, bracing her against the wall just as her hands tangled into his hair and their mouths collided. He clasped her jaw, plying her mouth with his tongue while his other hand gripped her ass, grinding his hard and throbbing length into the soft cradle of her hips.

This was a need, he thought. A tonic that cured his frenzied mind.

“I will punish you until you scream,” he promised, feeling the truth of the words swell within his chest. “Until you come so hard around my cock, you are left in no doubt of my affection.”

He didn’t think it was possible to grow any harder, but then her magic surfaced, smelling warm and sweet. He could feel it on the tips of her fingers like lightning, calling to his—to the shadows and threads that moved beneath his skin—and it only added to his excitement, to the heady anticipation of feeling her around him, hot and pulsing and coming.

He drew back to meet her gaze, to gauge her readiness, and then she spoke. “Make good on your promises, Lord Hades.”

His lower stomach tightened, the head of his cock throbbed, and he was suddenly so fucking desperate for her flesh, he could wait no longer. He worked his hand between them, intent on freeing himself and taking her against the wall—until it collapsed, and he stumbled forward with Persephone in his arms, catching himself before they tumbled to the floor.

As he straightened, he lowered her to the ground but kept her pressed to him because they had an audience—a large one, in fact, made up of mostly his palace staff, in addition to Thanatos, Hecate, and Charon.

Thanatos looked in their direction and away, a slight tint to his pale cheeks. Charon’s dark eyes widened before he too averted his gaze, breaking into a wide smile. Hecate was the only one who stared openly, a brow raised, a tilt to her lips.

There was a part of him that acknowledged he should have been more mindful of where he chose to take Persephone, yet at the end of the day, the palace was his in its entirety.

He could fuck where he wanted.

Hades cleared his throat, and Persephone cast a glance behind her before pressing her forehead into his chest, and for a moment, he imagined he could feel the heat of her embarrassment through his shirt.

“Good evening,” he said. “The Lady Persephone and I are famished, and we wish to be alone.”

Her hands rested on his sides beneath his jacket until he spoke and she jabbed him in the ribs. He grunted, tightening his hold as his staff scrambled to clean up. They filed out of the hall, carrying platters of food, addressing them as they went, and with each “Good evening, my lord, my lady,” Persephone burrowed farther into his chest.

Hecate was the last to leave, and as she passed, she popped a grape into her mouth before closing the door behind her.

“Now,” he said, guiding her back until she came into contact with the table. “Where were we?”

“You cannot be serious.”

“As the dead,” he answered.

“The…dining room?”

He did not understand her hesitancy, not when they had done this before, but perhaps she had envisioned something far different when he had promised punishment.

“I’m quite hungry, aren’t you?”

He lifted her onto the table and took her mouth, tongue sliding out to caress her lips and then dipping to collide with her own. His hands slipped up her waist to her breasts. He wanted to touch her smooth skin but settled for teasing her nipples before taking each into his mouth through her dress. Her legs tightened around him, heels digging into his ass, urging his hips forward. He indulged for a moment, surging forward to kiss her as he guided her to her back. Once she was settled, he straightened and took her in—a literal goddess, a queen in her own right, spread before him, golden hair spilling off the edges of the table. Her chest rose and fell, her eyes gleaming with a hunger he could feel in the pit of his stomach.

She was a dream—one he never wished to wake from.

He drew each of her legs up, so her heels rested on the table, and kissed the inside of each of her knees. The skirt of her dress was pooled at her hips, and he pressed her legs apart, exposing her hot flesh as his mouth closed over her clit.

She arched, her legs coming up to cradle his body, and while he liked the feel of her thighs against his face, the position did little for her pleasure and his access, so he pushed them down once more and continued to caress her with his tongue. She tasted warm and wet, and he was consumed by her as she writhed and moaned and whispered encouragement.

Then she stretched her leg, her foot rubbing his engorged flesh, and as much as he would have liked to free his sex and slide inside her, what he wanted most was to make her come.

And she was close.

Her body was a bowstring pulled taut, and Hades was desperate to feast, but his chase was hindered by a knock at the door.

Persephone tensed, and a wave of frustration roared through him.

“Ignore it,” he snapped, glancing up at her from where he still knelt, unceasing as he continued his work. His face grew hot, ears ringing as he pushed Persephone toward the edge, preparing to wring every bit of pleasure from her body, and in the aftermath, he would pour his own into her.

It was just as much a cycle of life and death—a give and take—one he would never bargain away.

The knocking sounded again.

“Lord Hades?”

“Go. Away.”

Another word from the other side of the door, and he would send whoever it was to Tartarus.

“It’s important, Hades.”

Fuck. He recognized the voice now—Ilias.

He straightened completely, and Persephone followed.

“A moment, my darling.”

He tried to keep his frustration at bay, but it was difficult given the nature of this interruption, made worse by Persephone’s roving eyes, which lifted from his hard cock to meet his gaze.

“You won’t hurt him, will you?” Her voice was low and silky, urging him to return.

“Not too terribly,” he said, though he was already weighing options.

He stepped away, gaze lingering on her flushed skin, the evidence of how hard he’d chased her orgasm, and slipped outside to find Ilias waiting.

“This better be important,” Hades hissed, “or I will send you to Tartarus—a year for every word you speak. Choose carefully.”

Ilias did not seem fazed by Hades’s threat as he replied, “It’s urgent.”

Hades stared at the satyr for a moment, recognizing that he never summoned Hades unless absolutely necessary, which meant whatever had occurred was not good. He wondered if it had anything to do with Kal or Hera, and he stiffened at the thought.

“I will be along soon,” he said.

Ilias nodded. “I’ll be in security.”

That made Hades curious and slightly concerned, but he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind as he returned to the dining room before he could watch the satyr leave. Persephone had moved from her perch on the dining table and now stood, staring up at the ceiling. Hades wondered what she found so appealing, but he did not ask, remaining silent as she turned to face him.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, keeping her arms crossed tight over her breasts, as if she wished to put up some kind of wall between them. A wall he refused to allow.

He drew closer, and her hands went to his waist. “Yes,” he said. “And no. Ilias has made me aware of a problem better dealt with sooner than later.”

“When will you be back?”

“An hour. Maybe two,” he guessed, depending on what Ilias wanted, but he did not wish to worry Persephone.

Disappointment darkened her eyes.

He placed a finger beneath her chin to hold her gaze. “Trust, my darling, that leaving you is the hardest decision I make each day.”

“Then don’t,” she said, and her arms wound around his waist, sealing their bodies together. “I’ll go with you.”

Her suggestion made him stiffen. Though he did not know what Ilias had to show him, he could not imagine anything good coming from Persephone’s presence in his work, at least aboveground.

“That is not wise.”

“Why not?”

“Persephone—”

“It’s a simple question.”

“It isn’t,” he snapped and regretted the loss of his temper as her eyes widened and her mouth hardened. He sighed. All he wanted to do was get this over with so he could return to her. Could she not see that?

“Fine,” she said and took a step away. Her distance felt like more than the loss of physical touch. “I’ll be here when you return.”

Was she only saying that to appease him?

“I will make it up to you,” he promised.

She arched a brow and, like a queen, commanded, “Swear it.”

He offered the slightest smile, his still-heavy cock spurring his mischief. “Oh, darling. You don’t need to extract an oath. Nothing will keep me from fucking you.”

Though it felt like sacrilege to leave her without having made her come.