“Ha—”
Persephone recognized the voice now—it was Minthe. She couldn’t see the beautiful nymph but knew by her voice that she was shocked to find them together. She had probably expected Persephone to heed her earlier warning and stay away.
“Yes, Minthe?” Hades said, his voice tight. Persephone wasn’t sure if it was because he was angry at being interrupted or the fact that she had just stroked him from root to tip. He was thick and hard and soft.
“We…missed you at dinner,” she said. “But I see that you are busy.”
Another stroke.
“Very,” he gritted out.
“I will let the cook know you have been thoroughly sated.”
Another.
“Quite,” he gritted out.
The soft click of Minthe’s heels echoed and disappeared. When she was out of earshot, Persephone pushed away from Hades. She couldn’t believe she’d let this happen. She was insane—enticed by pretty words and a stunningly attractive god. She should have stayed away—not because of Minthe’s warning, but because of Minthe herself.
“Where are you going?” he demanded, following after her.
“How often does Minthe come to you in the bath?” she asked, as she stepped out of the pool.
“Persephone.”
She didn’t look at him as she grabbed a towel to cover herself. She reached for the peplos and the crown Ian had made for her.
“Look at me, Persephone.”
She did.
He hadn’t quite exited the pool, but stood on the steps, his feet and calves submerged. He was huge—his body and his erection.
“Minthe is my assistant.”
“Then she can assist you with your need,” she said, looking right at his cock. She started to move away, but Hades reached for her, and pulled her to him.
“I don’t want Minthe,” he growled.
“I don’t want you.”
Hades tilted his head to the side, and his eyes flashed.
“You don’t…want me?” he repeated.
“No,” she said, but it was as if she were trying to convince herself, especially since Hades’ eyes had dropped to her lips.
“Do you know all of my powers, Persephone?” he asked, finally leveling his gaze with hers.
It was really hard to think when he was so close, and she looked at him warily, wondering what he was getting at.
“Some of them,” she said.
“Enlighten me.”
She recalled the passage she’d read about the Lord of the Dead’s magic.
“Illusion,” she said.
And as she spoke, he leaned in, lightly kissing the column of her neck. “Yes,” he said.
“Invisibility?”
A press of his tongue in the hollow of her throat.
“Very valuable,” he mumbled.
“Charm?” She breathed.
“Hmm.” The hum of his words vibrated against her skin, lower this time, closer to her breast. “But it doesn’t work on you...does it?”
“No,” she swallowed hard.
“You seem to not have heard of one of my most valuable talents.” He pulled the towel down, exposing her breasts, and took one tight bud between his teeth, sucking until a guttural sound escaped her mouth. He pulled back and leveled his gaze with hers. “I can taste lies, Persephone. And yours are as sweet as your skin.”
She pushed at him, and he took a step back. “This was a mistake.”
That part she believed. She had come here to meet the terms of her contract. How had she ended up naked in a pool with the God of the Dead? Persephone grabbed her clothes from the floor and moved up the steps.
“You might believe this was a mistake,” he said, and she paused, but didn’t turn to look at him. “But you want me. I was inside you. I tasted you. That is a truth you will never escape.”
She shivered and then ran.
CHAPTER XVII – THE OLYMPIAN GALA
Persephone couldn’t sleep.
She felt charged as unspent energy coursed through her veins, making her body feel flushed beneath the blankets. She pushed them off but found little relief. Her thin cotton nightgown was like a weight against her skin, and when she moved, the fabric brushed against her sensitive breasts. She curled her fingers into fists and clamped her thighs together in an attempt to stop the pressure building in her core.
And she could think of no one else but Hades—the press of his body against hers, the heat of his kiss, the feel of his tongue tasting more than the skin of her collarbone.
She sighed, frustrated, and shifted in bed, but the pulsing didn’t stop.
“This is ridiculous,” she said aloud and got to her feet. She paced her room. She should be focusing on fulfilling the terms of the contract with Hades, not kissing the King of the Dead.
Stupid favor, she thought.
Each time Hades kissed her, things went farther and farther. Now she’d been brought to the edge of something she didn’t understand—something she hadn’t explored and couldn’t shake.
She looked at her bed—the rumpled comforter made it appear like she’d shared it with someone. She clenched and unclenched her fists. She had to make this feeling go away or she wasn’t going to sleep, and she had too much to do. She and Lexa had to go shopping and get ready for the Olympian Gala.
She made a split decision and stepped out of her panties. The cool air eased the tension in her core—just barely. It also made her hyper-aware of the dampness between her thighs. Lying down again, she moved her legs apart and drew her fingers along her thigh until they trailed her sex. She was wet and hot, and her fingers sank into a part of her she had never touched. She gasped, arching her back as she pleasured herself. Her thumb found the sensitive bud at the apex of her thighs—and she worked it the way Hades had taught her, until her body felt electric and waves of pleasure made her dizzy and unaware.
She rolled onto her knees, working herself hard, imagining it was Hades hand in place of hers, imagining that she could fill his hard length inside her. She knew that if Minthe hadn’t interrupted, she would have let Hades take her in the pool. That thought spurred her on. Her breath came harder and she moved faster.
“Tell me you’re thinking about me.” His voice came from the shadows—a chill breeze against a bright flame.
Persephone froze and rolled, finding Hades standing at the end of her bed. She couldn’t tell what he was wearing in the dark, but she could see his eyes, and they glittered like coals in the night.
When she said nothing, he prompted, “Well?”
Her thoughts scattered. A small shaft of light fell across a cheekbone and his full lips. She wanted those lips in all the places she felt fire. She rose onto her knees and kept his gaze as she removed her nightshirt completely. Hades growled low in his throat and braced himself against the footboard of the bed.
“Yes,” she breathed. “I was thinking about you.”
The tension in the air thickened. Hades spoke in a growl that made Persephone’s skin prick.
“Don’t stop on my account.”
Persephone began where she left off. Hades inhaled between gritted teeth as he watched her pleasure herself. At first, she maintained eye contact, reveling in the feel of his eyes roving every inch of her skin, reveling in this sin. Soon the pleasure was too much, and her head rolled back, her hair spilled down her back, exposing her breasts for Hades’ viewing.
“Come for me,” he urged, and then commanded again. “Come, my darling.”
And she did with a strangled cry. Sweet release pulsed through her and she collapsed onto the bed. Her body shook, coming off the high. She breathed deep, inhaling the smell of pine and ash, and as she regained her scattered thoughts, the reality of her boldness descended like her mother’s wrath.
Hades.
Hades was in her bedroom.
She sat up with a start, scrambling for her nightshirt to cover her bare skin. It was a little ridiculous, given what had happened between them. She
started to lecture Hades on his abuse of power and breach of privacy when she discovered she was alone.
She craned her neck around the room.
“Hades?” She whispered his name, feeling both ridiculous and nervous at the same time. She pulled on her nightshirt and slipped off the bed, checking every corner of her room, but he was nowhere to be found.
Had her desire been so strong she hallucinated?
Feeling uncertain she climbed into bed, eyes heavy, and fell asleep to the rhythmic reminder that hallucinations don't smell like pine and ash.
***
“You look like a goddess,” Lexa said.
Persephone looked in the mirror. She wore a red silk gown. It was simple, but fit her like a glove, accentuating the curve of her hips where the fabric gathered and then split mid-thigh to expose one creamy leg. A pretty black floral applique spilled from her right shoulder, down the right side of the open back.
Lexa styled her hair, pulling it into a high, curled ponytail, and did her makeup, choosing a dark smoky eye. Persephone accessorized with simple gold earrings and the gold cuff she wore to cover Hades’ mark. Right now, she felt the burn of it on her skin.
Persephone blushed. “Thank you.”
But Lexa wasn’t finished. She added, “Like...the Goddess of the Underworld.”
“There is no Goddess of the Underworld,” Persephone replied. She remembered Yuri’s words and the soul’s hope that Hades would soon have a queen.
“The spot’s just vacant,” Lexa said.
Persephone didn’t want to talk about Hades. She would see him soon enough, and she had never felt so confused about anything in her life. She knew her attraction to Hades would only get her in trouble. Despite hating Minthe’s words, she believed them. Hades wasn’t the type of god who wanted a relationship, and she already knew he didn’t believe in love and Persephone wanted love.
Desperately.
She’d been denied so much all her life. She wouldn’t be denied love.
Persephone shook her head, clearing those thoughts away.
“How’s Jaison?” she asked.
Lexa had met Jaison at La Rose. They’d exchanged numbers and had been talking ever since. He was a year older than them and was a computer engineer. When Lexa talked about him, they were complete opposites, but somehow, it was working.
Lexa blushed. “I really like him.”
Persephone grinned. “You deserve it, Lex.”
“Thank you.”
Lexa popped back into her room to finish getting ready and Persephone went to look for her clutch when her doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it!” she called to Lexa.
When she answered, she found no one there, but a package rested on their doorstep. It was a white box with a red ribbon tied in a bow. She picked it up and brought it inside, looking to see if it was addressed to anyone. She found a tag that read Persephone.
Inside, resting on black velvet, was a note and a mask. Wear this with your crown, it said. Persephone sat it aside and pulled out a beautifully designed gold mask—despite its detail, it was simple and didn’t cover much of her face.
“Is that from Hades?” Lexa asked, stepping into the kitchen. Persephone’s mouth fell open when she saw her best friend. Lexa had chosen a strapless royal blue taffeta gown. Her mask was white, embellished with silver, and had a poof of feathers coming out of the top right side.
“Well?” she prompted when Persephone hadn’t answered.
“Oh,” she looked down at the mask. “No, it’s not from Hades.”
Persephone took the box to her room. She felt a little silly putting the crown Ian had given her on her head, but once her mask was on, she understood Hecate’s instruction. The combination was striking, and she really did look like a queen.
Persephone and Lexa took a cab to the gala. Their tickets indicated an arrival time of five thirty—an hour and a half earlier than the gods. No one wanted pictures of mortals unless they draped the arm of one of the Divine.
They waited in the back of the stuffy cab at the end of a long line of vehicles. When they were finally let out at a grand set of steps covered in red carpet, Persephone was grateful for the fresh air.
Once inside, they were led down a hall lined with glittering crystals that hung on strands like lights. It was beautiful and an element Persephone did not expect.
Anticipation rose as they neared the end of the hallway. They passed through a curtain of the same crystals and found themselves in a richly decorated room.
There were several tables organized around a ballroom, leaving space in the center for dancing. The tables themselves were round, covered with black cloth, and crowded with fine china. The real masterpieces decorated the center—marble statues that paid homage to the gods of Ancient Greece.
“Persephone, look.” Lexa elbowed her, and she tilted her head back to find a beautiful chandelier at the center of the room. Strands of the shimmering crystals draped the ceiling and shimmered like the stars in the Underworld’s sky.
They found their table, snagged a glass of wine, and spent time mingling. Persephone admired Lexa’s ability to make friends with anyone. She started chatting with a couple at their table and their group grew to include several more people by the time a chime sounded in the room. Everyone exchanged looks, and Lexa gasped.
“Persephone, the gods are coming! Come on!” Lexa took Persephone’s hand, dragging her across the floor and to a set of stairs that led to the second floor.
“Lexa, where are we going?” Persephone asked as they headed to the stairs.
“To watch the gods arrive!” she said, as if that were obvious.
“But...won’t we see them inside?” she asked.
“Not the point,” Lexa said. “I’ve watched this part on television for years. I want to see it in person tonight.”
There were several exhibits on the second floor, but Lexa wanted to secure a spot on the outdoor terrace, which overlooked the entrance to the museum. There were already several people crowded around the balcony’s edge to get a look at the Divine as they arrived, but Persephone and Lexa managed to squeeze into a small space. A mass of screaming fans and journalists crowded the sidewalks and the other side of the street. Camera lights flashed like lightening all around.
“Look! There’s Ares!” Lexa squealed, but Persephone’s stomach turned.
She did not like Ares. He was a god who thirsted for blood and violence. He was one of the loudest voices before The Great Descent, persuading Zeus to descend to the Earth and make war upon the mortals.
And Zeus listened—ignoring the advice and wisdom of Ares’ counterpart, Athena.
The God of War made his way up the steps. He wore a gold chiton and part of his chest was uncovered, revealing statuesque muscles and golden skin. A red cape covered one shoulder. Instead of wearing a mask, he bore a golden helm with a long, red plume of feathers that fell down his back. His scimitar-horns were long, lithe and lethal, bowing back with his feathers. He was regal and beautiful and frightening.
After Ares came Poseidon. He was huge—his shoulders, chest, and arms bulged beneath the fabric of his aquamarine suit jacket. He had pretty blond hair that reminded Persephone of restless waves. He wore a minimal mask that shimmered like the inside of a shell. She had the thought that Poseidon wanted no mystery to his presence.
Following Poseidon was Hermes. He was handsome in a flashy gold suit. He had dropped the glamour from his wings, and the feathers created a cloak about his body. Upon his head, he wore a crown of gold leaves. Persephone could tell Hermes liked walking the red carpet. He rejoiced in the attention, smiling broadly and posing. She thought about calling to him, but she didn’t need to—he found her quickly, winking at her before disappearing from view.
Apollo arrived in a gold chariot pulled by white horses. He was known for his dark curls and violet eyes. His skin was a burnished brown and made the white chiton he wore look like a flame. Instead of showing off his horns, he wore a g
old crown that resembled the sun’s rays.
He was accompanied by a woman Persephone recognized.
“Sybil!” she and Lexa called happily, but the beautiful blonde couldn’t hear them over the cries of the crowd. Journalists screamed questions at Sybil, asking for her name, demanding to know who she was, where she was from, and how long she’d been with Apollo.
Persephone admired the way Sybil handled it all. She seemed to enjoy the attention, smiling and waving, and she actually answered the questions. She wore a beautiful red gown that shimmered as she walked beside Apollo and into the museum.
Persephone recognized Demeter’s vehicle—a long, white limo. Her mother went for a more modern look, choosing a lavender ball gown that dripped with pink petals. It literally looked like a garden was growing up her skirts. Her hair was up and her antlers on display.
Lexa leaned in and whispered to Persephone. “Something must be wrong. Demeter always works the red carpet.”
Lexa was right. Her mother usually put on a fashionable and flamboyant show, smiling and waving at the crowd. Tonight, she frowned, barely glancing at the journalists when they called to her. All Persephone could think was that, whatever her mother was going through, was all her fault.
The crowd grew louder as another limo approached. Aphrodite stepped out wearing a surprisingly tasteful evening gown. White and pink flowers decorated the bodice of her dress. The middle was see-through, and the flowers continued trailing down into folds of tulle. She wore a headpiece of pink peonies and pearls, and her graceful gazelle horns sprouted from her head behind it. She was stunning, but the thing about Aphrodite—all the goddesses, really—was that they were warriors, too. And the Goddess of Love, for whatever reason, was particularly vicious.
She waited outside her limo, and both Persephone and Lexa groaned when they saw none other than Adonis clamber from the backseat.
Lexa leaned in and whispered, “Rumor has it, Hephaestus didn’t want her.”
Persephone snorted. “You can’t believe everything you hear, Lexa.”
Hephaestus was not an Olympian, but he was the God of Fire. Persephone didn’t know much about him, except that he was quiet and a brilliant inventor. She’d heard a lot of rumors about his marriage to Aphrodite and none of them were good.
A Touch of Darkness (Hades & Persephone #1) Page 19