A Touch of Darkness (Hades & Persephone #1)

by Scarlett St. Clair

  “Are you okay?” He asked.

  She shook her head no, swallowing thickly. There were so many things wrong with this day and night. “Let’s go.”

  He guided her toward him, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulder and led her through the crowd. It parted for him easily. She was vaguely aware that Hades’ presence in the club had caused a type of silent chaos. The music still blared in the background, but no one was dancing. They’d all stopped to watch as he steered her off the dance floor.

  “Hades—” she started to warn him, but the god seemed to know what she was thinking and answered,

  “They will not remember this.”

  That satisfied her and she continued with Hades toward the exit, until she remembered that she needed to find her best friend.

  “Lexa!”

  She turned too fast, and her vision swam. She swayed, and Hades caught her, scooping her into his arms.

  “I will ensure she gets home safe,” Hades said.

  Any other time she would have protested or argued, but the world was still spinning, even with her eyes closed.

  “Persephone?” Hades asked. His voice was low, and his breath brushed her lips.

  “Hmm?” she asked, her brows knitted together, and she squeezed her eyes shut tight.

  “Are you okay?” He asked.

  “Dizzy,” she whispered.

  He didn't speak again. She could tell when they’d stepped outside because the cool air touched every inch of her exposed skin and the sound of rain hit the awning over La Rose’s entrance. She shivered, snuggling closer to Hades’ warmth. She inhaled his now familiar scent of ash and spice.

  “You smell good,” she mumbled.

  She fisted his jacket, pressing as close to him as possible. His body was like a rock. He’d had centuries to chisel this physique.

  She heard Hades chuckled and she opened her eyes to find him looking at her. Before she could ask what he was laughing at, he shifted, holding her close and tight as he folded into the backseat of a black limo. She caught a glimpse of Antoni as he shut their car door.

  The cabin they were in was cozy and private. Hades slid her off his lap and into the leather seat beside him. She watched his lithe fingers adjust the controls so that the vents were pointed at her and the heater was on full blast.

  After they were on the road, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

  “You don’t listen to orders.”

  She laughed. “I don’t take orders from you, Hades.”

  He raised a brow. “Trust me, darling. I’m aware.”

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

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

  She folded her arms over her chest. “Have you ever thought that maybe you’re mine, instead?”

  His lips twitched and his eyes fell to her wrist. “It is my mark upon your skin.”

  Maybe the alcohol made her brave. She shifted, sliding her leg across Hades lap so that she straddled him. Her dress rose, and she could feel him against her, hard and aroused. She smiled and his gaze returned to hers instantly, this time it was like fire scorching her skin.

  “Shall I leave a mark?” she asked.

  “Careful, Goddess.” His words were a harsh growl.

  “Another order.” She rolled her eyes.

  “A warning,” Hades said through gritted teeth, and then his hands clasped her bare thighs and she inhaled sharply at the feel of his skin against hers. “But we both know you don’t listen, even when it’s good for you.”

  “You think you know what’s good for me?” she asked, dangerously close to his lips. “You think you know what I need?”

  His hands moved up—pushing her dress higher, and she gasped as his fingers neared the apex of her thighs. Hades laughed. “I don’t think, Goddess, I know. I could make you worship me.”

  Persephone bit her lip, and his eyes fell there and remained. So, she closed the distance between them, sealing her lips to his. He opened to her immediately, and she tasted him deep, taking what was hers to claim. Her fingers tangled into his hair, tilting his head back to kiss him deeper. In this position, she felt powerful.

  When she finally pulled away, it was to nibble at his ear.

  “You will worship me,” she said, and rolled her hips against him. His hands dug into her skin, and she moved in, her cheek brushing his as she whispered. “And I won’t even have to order you.”

  She didn’t think his hands could grasp her any tighter, and then suddenly, he lifted her up effortlessly, and maneuvered her so that she was cradled tight against him. He fixed her dress, and then covered her with his own jacket.

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Goddess.”

  She blinked, confused by the sudden change in Hades. He had rejected her.

  “You’re just afraid,” she said.

  Hades didn’t speak, but when she glanced at him, he was glaring out the window, jaw locked tight, hands fisted, and she got the sense she might be right.

  It wasn’t long after she fell asleep in his embrace.

  CHAPTER XIV – A TOUCH OF JEALOUSY

  When Persephone woke, she was aware of two things: one, she was in a stranger’s bed, and two, she was naked. She sat up, holding black silk sheets to her chest. She was in Hades room. She recognized it from the day she’d fallen into the Styx and he’d healed her.

  She found Hades sitting before his blazing fireplace. It was probably the most god-like she’d ever seen him. He looked perfectly untouched—not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle in his jacket, not a button undone. He held his whisky in one hand, and the fingers of his other hand rested upon his lips. The halo of fire roaring behind him also seemed fitting, as it raged like his eyes.

  It was how she knew that though he appeared to be reclining, he was wound tight.

  He kept her gaze, not speaking, and took a sip of his drink.

  “Why am I naked?” Persephone asked.

  “Because you insisted on it,” he answered in a voice void of the barely restrained desire he’d exhibited in the limo.

  She didn’t have many memories from last night, but she was sure she’d never forget the press of Hades’ fingers into her thighs, or the delicious friction that sent shockwaves through her body. “You were very determined to seduce me.”

  Persephone blushed fiercely, embarrassed. She looked away when she asked, “Did we—”

  Hades laughed darkly. Persephone clenched her teeth so hard, her jaw hurt. Why was he laughing?

  “No, Lady Persephone. Trust me, when we fuck, you’ll remember.”

  When? “Your arrogance is alarming.”

  His eyes flashed. “Is that a challenge?”

  “Just tell me what happened, Hades!” She demanded.

  “You were drugged at La Rose. You’re lucky you are immortal. Your body burned through the poison fast.”

  Not fast enough to prevent embarrassment, apparently.

  She remembered a waitress approaching once they’d hit the dance floor. She brought them drinks and said they were on the house. Soon after she’d consumed it and started to dance, the music had sounded far away, the lights were blinding, and every move she made sent her head spinning.

  She also remembered hands on her body and cold lips closing over hers.

  “Adonis,” Persephone said. Hades jaw tightened at hearing the mortal’s name. “What did you do to him?”

  Hades looked at his glass, swirling the whisky before downing the last bit. Once he finished, he set the glass aside, not looking at her.

  “He is alive, but that is only because he was in his goddess’s territory,” he answered.

  “You knew!” Persephone accused. She pushed off the bed, and stood, Hades’ silk sheets rustling around her. His penetrating gaze drifted from her face down, tracing every line of her body. She felt as if she were standing bare before him.

  “Is that why you warned m
e to stay away from him?”

  “I assure you there are more reasons to stay away from that mortal than the favor Aphrodite has bestowed upon him.”

  “Like what? You cannot expect me to understand if you don’t explain anything.” She’d taken a step toward him, even though some part of her knew it was dangerous. Whatever Hades had gone through in the night was still racing through his mind.

  “I expect that you will trust me,” he said, standing. The admission shocked her. Then he added, “And if not me, then my power.”

  She hadn’t even considered his powers—the ability to see the soul for what it was—raw and burdened. What did he see when he looked at Adonis?

  A thief, she thought. A manipulator.

  Hades put distance between them, refilling his glass at the small bar in his room.

  “I thought you were jealous!” Hades was about to take a drink, but he paused to laugh. She was both angry and hurt at his dismissal.

  “Don’t pretend you don’t get jealous, Hades. Adonis kissed me last night.”

  Hades slammed the glass down. “Keep reminding me, Goddess, and I’ll reduce him to ash.”

  “So, you are jealous!” she accused.

  “Jealous?” he questioned and stalked toward her. “That...leech...touched you after you told him no. I have sent souls to Tartarus for less.”

  She recalled Hades anger at Duncan, the ogre who had laid his hands on her, and she realized that was why he was on edge. He probably did want to find Adonis and incinerate him.

  “I’m...sorry.” She wasn’t sure what to say, but his distress seemed so great, she thought she might ease it with an apology. She only made it worse.

  “Don’t you dare apologize,” he said, and cupped her face. “Not for him. Never for him.”

  He studied her and then whispered, “Why are you so desperate to hate me?”

  Her brows came together, and she covered his hands with her own.

  “I don’t hate you,” she said quietly, and Hades stiffened, tearing away from her. The violence with which he moved surprised her, and the anger and tension she’d seen in him this morning returned.

  “No? Shall I remind you? Hades, Lord of the Underworld, Rich One, and arguably the most hated god among mortals, exhibits a clear disregard for mortal life.”

  He quoted her article word for word, and Persephone cringed. How many times had he read it? How he must have seethed.

  Hades jaw worked. “This is what you think of me?”

  She opened her mouth and closed it before deciding to explain, “I was angry—”

  “Oh, that is more than obvious.” Hades’ voice was sharp.

  “I didn’t know they would publish it!”

  “A scathing letter illustrating all of my faults? You didn’t think the media would publish it?”

  She glared at him. “I warned you.”’

  It was the wrong thing to say.

  “You warned me?” He set his gaze upon her, dark and angry. “You warned me about what, Goddess?”

  “I warned you that you would regret our contract.”

  “And I warned you not to write about me.” He stepped closer to her, and she didn’t back down, tilting her head to keep his gaze.

  “Perhaps in my next article, I’ll write about how bossy you are,” she said.

  “Next article?”

  “You didn’t know? I’ve been asked to write a series on you.”

  “No,” he said.

  “You can’t say no. You’re not in control here.”

  “And you think you are?”

  “I’ll write the articles, Hades, and the only way I’ll stop is if you let me out of this Gods-damned contract!”

  Hades went rigid, and then he hissed, “You think to bargain with me, Goddess?” The heat coming off him was almost unbearable. He inched forward. It wasn’t like he had much space—he was already so close to her. She stuck out one hand, clutching the sheet to her body with the other.

  “You’ve forgotten one important thing, Lady Persephone. To bargain, you need to have something I want.”

  “You asked me if I believed what I wrote!” She argued. “You care!”

  “It’s called a bluff, darling.”

  “Bastard,” she hissed.

  Hades reached out. Burying his hand in her hair, he hauled her against him and pulled her head back so that her throat felt taut. It was savage and possessive, and she craved him.

  “Let me be clear—you bargained, and you lost. There is no way out of our contract unless you fulfill its terms. Otherwise, you remain here. With me.”

  “If you make me your prisoner, I will spend the rest of my life hating you.”

  “You already do.”

  She flinched again. She didn’t like that he thought that and kept saying it, finding herself asking a similar question to the one he had offered earlier.

  “Do you really believe that?”

  He didn’t answer, just offered a mocking laugh, and then pressed a hot kiss to her mouth before tearing away viciously.

  “I will erase the memory of him from your skin.”

  She was surprised by his ferocity, but it thrilled her. He tore away the silk sheet and she stood naked before him. He lifted her off the ground and she wrapped her legs around his waist without a second thought. He gripped her bottom tight and kissed her. The friction of his clothes against her bare skin drove her to the edge, and liquid heat pooled at her core. Persephone raked her hands into Hades’ hair, grazing his scalp as she freed his long strands, gripping it hard in her hands. She pulled his head back and kissed him hard and deep. A guttural sound escaped Hades’ mouth, and he moved, backing her into the bedpost, grinding into her hard. His teeth grazed her skin, biting and sucking. It kept her from breathing, eliciting gasps from deep in her throat.

  Together they were mindless, and when she found herself sprawled out on the bed, she knew she would give Hades anything. He wouldn’t even have to ask.

  But the God of the Dead stood over her, breathing hard. His hair spilled over his shoulders. His eyes were dark, angry, aroused—and instead of closing the distance he had created between them, he smirked.

  It was unsettling, and Persephone knew she wasn’t going to like what came next.

  “Well, you would probably enjoy fucking me, but you definitely don’t like me.”

  Then he was gone.

  ***

  Persephone found her dress neatly folded in one of the two chairs in front of Hades’ fireplace. A black cloak sat beside it. As she pulled on her dress and the cloak, she thought of how Hades had looked at her when she awoke. How long had he sat watching her sleep? How long had he simmered in his rage? Who was this god who appeared out of nowhere to rescue her from unwanted advances, claimed it wasn’t jealousy, and folded her clothes? Who accused her of hating him, but kissed her like he had never partook of something so sweet?

  Her body flushed as she thought about how he’d lifted her and moved her to the bed. She couldn’t recall what she’d been thinking, but she knew it wasn’t telling him to stop—still, he’d left her.

  That heady flush turned to anger.

  He’d laughed and left her.

  Because this is a game to him, she reminded herself. She couldn’t let her strange and electric attraction to him overpower that reality. She had a contract to fulfill.

  Persephone left Hades’ room via the balcony to check on her garden. Despite her resentment of the greenhouse, Persephone still loved flowers, and the God of the Underworld had managed to create one of the most beautiful gardens she’d ever seen. She marveled at the colors and the scents—the sweet smell of wisteria, the heady and sultry scent of gardenias and roses, the calming scent of lavender.

  And it was all magic.

  Hades had lifetimes to learn his powers, to craft illusions that deceived the senses. Persephone had never known the feel of power in her blood. Did it burn hot like the need Hades ignited within her? Did it feel like last night when she�
��d boldly straddled him and whispered challenges in his ear as she tasted his skin?

  That had been power.

  For a moment, she’d controlled him.

  She’d seen lust cloud his gaze, heard his growl of passion, felt his hard arousal.

  But she’d not been powerful enough to keep him under her spell.

  She was beginning to think she would never be powerful enough.

  Which is why a mortal life suited her so well—why she could not let Hades win.

  Except she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to win when her garden still looked like a scorched piece of Earth. As she came to the end of the path, the lush gardens gave way to a bald patch of earth where the soil was more like sand, and black as ash. It had been a few weeks since she’d planted the seeds in the ground. They should be sprouting by now. Even without magic, mortal gardens at least produced that much life. If it had been her mother’s garden, it would already be fully grown. Persephone had harbored a secret hope that through this process, she would discover some dormant power that didn’t involve stealing life but standing before this barren patch of Earth made her realize how ridiculous that hope was.

  She couldn’t just wait around for power to manifest or for mortal seeds to sprout in the Underworld’s impossible soil. She had to do something more. She straightened and went in search of Hecate.

  Persephone found the Goddess in a grove near her home. Hecate wore purple robes today, and her long hair was braided and snaked over her shoulder. She sat, cross-legged, in the soft grass petting a furry weasel. Persephone squealed when she saw it.

  “What is that?” she demanded.

  Hecate smiled softly and scratched the creature behind its small ear. “This is Gale. She is a polecat.”

  “That is not a cat,” Persephone argued.

  “Polecat,” Hecate said, laughing quietly. “She was once a human witch, but she was an idiot, so I turned her into a polecat.”

  Persephone stared at the goddess, but Hecate didn’t seem to notice her stunned silence.

  “I like her better this way.”

  She looked up at the Goddess of Spring then and asked, “But enough about Gale. What can I help you with, my dear?”

  That question was all it took—Persephone erupted, breaking into a seething tangent about Hades, the contract, and her impossible wager, avoiding details about this morning’s disaster. She even admitted her greatest secret—that she could not grow a single thing. When she finished, Hecate looked thoughtful but not surprised.