Bride of Death

by Celina Summers

  “You have everything you desire?” he asked, his deep voice quiet and resonant.

  “Yes, I do.” She turned to face him fully. “Thank you. Everything is wonderful.”

  “If you wish for anything, you have only to ask.” Hades sat in the big chair next to the hearth, his eyes never leaving her face. “You look lovely, Persephone. The colors of spring suit you.”

  Persephone looked away, uncomfortably aware that her cheeks were growing hot. She couldn’t think of anything to say, so she twisted her fingers together as the silence between them grew.

  “You are unused to compliments, aren’t you? You shouldn’t be. You are the loveliest woman I have ever seen.”

  “I’m not — not really,” she replied. “Amphitrite is — ”

  “Nothing compared to you,” Hades interrupted smoothly. “Look at yourself in the mirror, Persephone.”

  She did as he commanded. His face appeared over her shoulder. She stared at their shared reflection while he spoke. “Look at yourself as I see you. Look at this dark hair — Aphrodite herself can only dream of having hair this lustrous. Why would anyone prefer fair hair on a woman when he could indulge himself with the rich depth of ebony? Look at your face, Persephone — the curve of your cheek, the height of your brow and this dainty nose. Everything about your face is in harmony, a perfect combination of sweetness and strength. Look at your eyes — wide and lovely, the color of the mountain valleys in the spring — they sparkle with youth and soften with compassion. They’re enchanting. And yet, all that I have mentioned pales in comparison to the haunting beauty of the whole. Any woman would consider herself fortunate to have but one of these attributes and any one would confer upon her great beauty. But you? You possess them all, Persephone, and it has given you the power to bring the Lord of Death to his knees.”

  Persephone was as caught by his words as she was the intensity of his dark eyes. She could feel the heat of his body as it hovered just behind her own and felt oddly bereft that she wasn’t leaned against him. The thought of touching his lean body brought another, hotter blush to her cheeks.

  Hades laughed. “I find it difficult to believe that a girl as lovely as you is so unused to compliments. Didn’t your suitors tell you how beautiful you are?”

  “No,” she confessed.

  “They are weak. No wonder you are still a maiden. Such lukewarm courting is beneath you. They were fools.”

  He stood up just as the door opened. Two servants brought in a tray and a small table. They set the table near the open windows. One tied back the curtains while the other arranged dishes, glasses, and a bottle of wine upon the table. Without saying a word, they bowed first to Persephone then to Hades and departed.

  “Why did they bow to me?” Persephone asked.

  “Even the dead must pay homage to beauty.” Hades said. He pulled two chairs to the table and held out his hand. “Come. Join me. We’ll eat and drink together.”

  Once you eat something in the Underworld, you’re trapped there for all eternity.

  Amphitrite’s casual statement had seemed so ludicrous on Olympus. But here in the depths of Hades’ palace, Persephone wasn’t willing to risk her friend being wrong.

  “I’m not really hungry,” Persephone said in a low voice.

  “You’re not?” Hades frowned. “Has something upset you? Is there something that does not meet with your satisfaction?”

  “Oh, no! Of course not! I just, well…” Her voice trailed off. She straightened her shoulders as a surge of confidence rushed through her. Hadn’t he said she had brought the Lord of Death to his knees?

  “What is it, Persephone?”

  “I miss my mother.”

  There — I’ve said it! What will he make of that?

  Hades considered her for a moment. The way he looked at her made Persephone nervous. He was so big, so stern, so…unrelenting.

  “It is natural that you miss your mother,” he said at last. “Every maiden longs for her mother when she leaves home. Mortal girls weep at the thought of being away from their mother. But you are not mortal, Persephone. You are a goddess who at long last has come into her own.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” she faltered.

  Hades smiled. “Come here and I will show you.”

  Hesitantly, she rose from her chair. As she crossed the room to stand in front of him, she had to tilt her head back to look into his face. Hades’ eyes darkened and he put his hands lightly on her shoulders.

  “Only a goddess could have this power over a man,” he murmured. He lifted a hand and lightly traced the curve of her jaw.

  “I have no power,” she whispered.

  “Don’t you?” His hand hardened, sliding to the nape of her neck. He bent toward her, halting with his mouth a bare inch above hers. “Oh, I think you do.”

  His lips were surprisingly soft when they captured hers. Her mouth opened under the warm pressure and his tongue dove into her mouth, twining about her own tongue with tantalizing invitation. His arms slid around her waist, pulling her body against hi. She put her hands against his chest, thinking to push him away, but then she realized that she didn’t want to. This contact with the hardness of his body, the quiet strength he’d used to contain her, thrilled her. Before she knew quite what she was doing, her hands moved upward and curved around his neck.

  Even that slight gesture seemed to encourage him. His arms tightened and his body hardened against hers. His mouth demanded more from her and she responded instinctively, meeting the determined thrusts of his tongue with tentative strokes of her own.

  And then, abruptly, Hades tore his mouth away from hers. He stared down at her for a moment with such a fierce glimmer in her eyes that she trembled. His hands were gentle on her flesh but still intent. The god sucked in a shaking breath and managed a lopsided grin.

  “If you still believe you don’t have any power, Persephone, perhaps this will change your mind,” he said in a low voice. “There is no power greater than what you hold over me. I have almost forgotten myself and that is not something that happens often.”

  Persephone shivered in his arms, unsure of what had just happened. Hades loosened his grasp. He tucked her head under his chin and stroked her hair comfortingly. “What just happened?” she asked, her voice shaking.

  He laughed. She heard the rumble of his laughter under her cheek and immediately felt better. Hades tugged at a lock of her hair until she looked up at him curiously. “That’s called passion, Persephone. Would you care to feel it again?”

  Before she could answer, he kissed her again. This time, his lips were soft and teasing on hers, avoiding the invitation when her mouth parted under the onslaught of kisses. Instead, he moved from her mouth to the soft space between her cheek and ear and then down onto her throat. Persephone gasped at the feel of his lips on the curve of her neck. She twisted her head to one side, offering him greater access to the pale skin of her throat. He obliged her, nibbling lightly down the sensitive flesh. His hand shifted from the back of her neck to move a long curl out of the way as his lips traveled across her bare shoulder and back. He nestled his face into the opposite side of her throat, sucking lightly on her skin.

  She was so engrossed, she didn’t even notice when his hand moved up the side of her body. When his hand closed gently around her breast, she gasped again in surprise. He lingered there for a moment, his thumb brushing against her nipple through the sheer fabric of her gown.

  And then, to her horrified amazement, he pulled away again. This time, he released her entirely, moving away to stand in front of the hearth. He stared into the flames for a moment while Persephone, bewildered, put her hand to her mouth. Her body was tight and aching with sudden loss.

  “Passion works both ways,” Hades said, his voice roughened but still gentle. “When I teach you what passion feels like, I experience it myself tenfold.”

  Persephone lowered herself into a chair. Her legs felt weak. Hades turned to regard her, a wry, self-moc
king expression on his face. “Are you frightened, Persephone?”

  She thought about it for a moment. Was she afraid? No, this wasn’t fright. This was something different, something exciting. “No, I’m not.”

  No sooner were the words out of her mouth than Hades scooped her up from the chair. He held her against him for a moment, staring intently at her face, before sitting in the chair himself and arranging her on his lap.

  “Good,” he murmured, and his mouth fell on hers again.

  Chapter Five

  THE SITUATION WAS VERY STRANGE.

  Persephone was still confused by what had occurred the night before. Hades had cuddled her against him for a long time, his lips alternately possessing her mouth and trailing across her throat and her arms. He’d driven her to the point of fevered excitement, kissing her fervently while his hands stroked her inflamed body with soothing caresses. When she reached the point where she didn’t think she could bear another moment, he’d suddenly released her. He’d brought her hand, so tiny when encompassed by his, to his lips, wished her a good night’s sleep and departed.

  Persephone had lain awake for hours, perplexed and unsatisfied.

  Thetis and Amphitrite had always told her how pleasant it was to be kissed. Now, at last, she believed them. It was more than pleasant actually.

  It was addictive.

  Even now, hours later, her body ached and her lips were swollen and tender. She’d dressed in another gown — this one of the most delicate blue — and twined her hair back from her face, leaving the rest long and free as it swung against her back. She’d spent the morning and most of the afternoon wandering through Hades’ palace, marveling at what she found there. The shades of the dead didn’t interfere as she moved through their midst. They were as unconscious of her as they were their surroundings.

  Although the palace was built of gold bricks, the furnishings were ostensibly simple — offering comfort instead of opulence. But here and there, she found clues to Hades’ wealth and taste: mosaics that used jewels instead of painted tiles or curtains made of silk and stitched with gold thread. It made sense. Hades would naturally possess all the wealth found underground. Gold, silver, and gems were used for decoration, giving the palace a brightness that couldn’t be found anywhere else in the Underworld.

  By mid-afternoon, Persephone was back in her bedchamber, staring out at the broad plain beyond the clustered grove of cedars. How vast was this realm? Logic dictated that it had to be at least as vast as the oceans; maybe even the heavens or the earth.

  The earth.

  Persephone sighed. Her mother was probably looking for her, scouring the areas around Nysa for any sign of her. It wouldn’t matter; Demeter couldn’t descend into the Underworld without Hades’ knowledge and permission. Somehow, she didn’t think that permission would be forthcoming.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  Persephone turned around. Hades stood in the doorway, his tall frame blocking out all but the tiniest views of the corridor behind him.

  “Nothing,” she lied.

  “I see.” He moved into the room, closing the door gently behind him. “I am told you toured the palace today. Did you like it?”

  “It’s beautiful,” she said honestly. “It’s not at all what I expected.”

  “What did you expect?”

  “Oh, you know — it’s the Underworld. It’s supposed to be frightening and dark and uncomfortable.”

  “Some parts of it are,” he admitted. “Within my realm is a plain called Tartarus. There, the evil-doers in life are punished for their misdeeds in death. Although Tartarus is the plain of the damned, there is also Elysium, the isle of the blessed. There, worthy mortals go after death and it is much like the realm they knew when alive.”

  “So where is this place?” she asked, gesturing to the palace.

  “It is where I wish it to be,” Hades said quietly. “Or how I wish it. Why? Would you like it changed? I can make this be anything you like.”

  “Really? How could you change it?” Persephone’s curiosity overtook her, leaving her fears and sorrow behind.

  The god shrugged. “However I wish. Would you prefer this place be something different than what it is?”

  Persephone thought for a moment. Could he really make this look like anything he wanted? For a moment she was tempted to test him, but she darted another look at him. He looked tense. Persephone hesitated. He wanted to please her and if this palace, which obviously he liked, would make her happy in some other guise, he would do it.

  For the first time, she acknowledged her feminine power over him and reveled in it.

  “No, I like the palace just the way it is,” she said in a quiet voice. “The only thing I don’t have and wish I did are flowers. I used to have huge bouquets of flowers in my bedchamber at home.”

  “Flowers,” he murmured as his taut frame relaxed. “I can do that. What kind do you want?”

  Persephone couldn’t tear her eyes away from his face. The tension had disappeared from his features and now his eyes were sparkling with something she couldn’t identify. Mischief maybe? Relief? Belatedly, she realized she was staring and blurted, “Narcissus?”

  He smiled lazily and she caught her breath. “Narcissus, then. I will see that your wish is obeyed, my Queen.”

  Hades came toward her, his eyes riveted on her. She watched his approach warily. When at last he stood right in front of her, he asked, “Are you afraid, Persephone?”

  “No,” she whispered.

  “Good.” He bent and pressed a swift, chaste kiss against her lips. A spear of disappointment flashed through her body. That was it? What happened to those hard, glorious, possessive kisses he’d given her the night before?

  The god’s eyes gleamed and Persephone froze. “That kiss wasn’t enough for you, was it?”

  “I — I’m not sure what you mean.”

  He moved closer, so close that when he spoke his breath stirred her hair. “You were wondering why I didn’t kiss you like I did last night.”

  “No, I — ” She stopped. Why lie? “You’re right. I was wondering.”

  “I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I’ll make it up to you.”

  His mouth captured hers, parting her lips with a swift, savage thrust of his tongue. She melted against his lean body as he gathered her up in his arms. This kiss was different from the ones she’d known up to this point: it was possessive, searing any other thoughts from her save for him.

  Hades.

  Only Hades.

  He dragged his mouth from hers with a groan, and bent to suck on the side of her neck. His teeth grazed her skin and she arched against him as a delicious shiver ran down her spine. He didn’t seem to notice. His hands, so hard and hot against her flesh, moved to the laces upon her right shoulder. Before she realized what he was doing, he’d untied the pert little bow that held her gown up. The fabric slid down her breast, halting against his chest. The sight of the gentle swell sent a shudder through his body. His mouth moved back to hers, his tongue mating wildly with her own while one big hand moved up her side, the fingertips dragging along her skin. He moved back just enough that the silk slid from her breast entirely. Cool air from the open windows replaced the sensual feel of the fabric, and her nipple hardened in response. A moment later, his hand moved over her breast with scalding heat. She moaned against his mouth and Hades shuddered again.

  He pulled his lips from hers. She opened her eyes and stared up at him in confusion. Hades’ eyes were so dark they looked black. Fire danced in his stare as it moved from her swollen lips to the soft swell of flesh he was cupping.

  “Lovely,” he murmured and before she knew what was happening, he lifted her from her feet and his lips settled around her nipple.

  Persephone lost herself in the sensation. His mouth was hot on her flesh, the roughness of his tongue against her nipple arousing. Her head fell back in pleasure as he flicked his tongue against her nipple, then closed his lips around it and beg
an to suck. Arousal exploded through her body and she caught her breath.

  Each sound she made affected Hades more than the last. One moment she was dangling in the air, reveling in the feel of his experienced stimulation of her breast; the next, he had laid her down on the great bed and taken those provoking lips from her skin.

  He loomed over her, smiling down upon her with pleasure and anticipation. “Wait just a moment,” he said with a smile, before leaning over her with another brief kiss. Hades pulled the fabric back over her exposed breast and walked out of her sight for a minute.

  Persephone could have wept, but she closed her eyes in humiliated despair. What was she doing wrong? Why did he keep stirring up these feelings in her and then leaving?

  Something soft and silken brushed against her cheek.

  Persephone opened her eyes. Hades stood beside the bed, holding a basket in one hand and a narcissus in the other. She smiled up at him.

  “You said you wanted narcissus,” he reminded her gently as he began to shower the blossoms across her body and the bed. “I hear you and obey, my Queen.”

  When the last blossom was gone from the basket, Hades threw it to one side and climbed onto the bed beside her. He crushed some of the delicate blossoms with his body, and the air around them grew heavy and fragrant with their sweet aroma. He propped his head on one elbow for a moment and stared down at her face. With his free hand, he reached for the laces on her left shoulder and jerked the knot free. As his mouth fell upon hers once more, he dragged the silken gown down and bared both of her breasts.

  Hades smiled when the girl shivered against him. She was a virgin, yes, but beneath that demure expression and maidenly face lay the soul of a wanton. He picked up a narcissus blossom and reluctantly dragged his mouth from hers again.

  Persephone frowned. Hades knew she wanted to complain, but wasn’t certain how to ask for what she wanted. He took the white narcissus and trailed it down the side of her face.