Bride of Death

by Celina Summers

  And between his own muscled thighs, his phallus rose above her body, proud and fierce. She realized that what had happened before was just seduction.

  Now it was time for him to possess her.

  Hades gritted his teeth but managed to speak soothingly. “Persephone, my love, I cannot withstand the passion you’ve created in me but I must ask you one final time — will you have me?”

  Persephone, still breathing hard from the spirals of desire spinning in her body, didn’t have to think about it. “I will have you, Hades, if you will take me.”

  It was as if her words had shattered the last fragile barrier between them. As pieces of their self-control fell to the wayside, Hades redoubled his siege on her aching body. He was everywhere at once: kissing her passionately while his tongue danced with hers, his hands stroking her inflamed skin and leaving fires in their wake. His knees spread her thighs a little further while his finger manipulated the tiny nub of her sex with ever-increasing speed. Excitement rushed through her limbs so violently pleasurable that she writhed in frustrated passion. The felt the head of his penis pressing against her sex as the stimulation of her clitoris swelled into an almost unbearable scream of titillation.

  Hades sheathed his swollen penis in her, filling her in such a way she’d never even imagined. As he drew back, she chewed on her bottom lip desperately, afraid that was all there was to it.

  But then Hades began to move inside her, pumping slowly and steadily into her body while the walls of her womb clutched at his hot, wet flesh. The god set his teeth, moving Persephone’s knees between his chest and her body.

  Hades paused, and looked down at her with a smile spilling over with love and anguished arousal. “You are mine,” he whispered harshly.

  He drew back and slammed into her, moving so swiftly and strongly that Persephone’s breath left her in a rush. He worked his hand between them, insinuating a finger through her public hair until he found her clitoris. She was watching him, uncertain of what was happening. He looked down at her face and suddenly grinned.

  “You will love this,” he promised. As he started to rub his finger over her clitoris, moving it in fast, tight little circles, he continued to move inside her. Each stroke was stronger; each stroke was faster. Each stroke was harder, so hard that her breath began to match the rhythmic power of their lovemaking. Hades groaned and his finger moved away but she didn’t care. He spread her legs apart with a growl and lowered his body on top of hers. The pace of the lovemaking increased until he was pounding into her eager body with vicious power.

  Her body melted beneath him. Hades dropped his head, kissing her passionately on any piece of her he could reach — her throat, the sensitive flesh beneath her right ear, her mouth, clinging to the demands his kiss made upon her. She began to move under him, with him, her hips rising to meet his thrust with joyful abandon. Hades cried out and rolled over onto his back and Persephone almost screamed when he penetrated her fully. Each new thrust quickened the burgeoning excitement screaming through her body. Hades clutched at her breasts, kissing passionately from one to the other, tracing the nipples with his tongue and leaving the cold air of the Underworld to make them pucker into little stones while she whimpered above him, throwing back her head in primal assertion of her dominance and then buckling in submission. Long curls brushed against his skin until he was a groaning madman reaching desperately for her body. He pulled her down sharply so that the full length of her body stretched along his and rolled them over again.

  When he opened his eyes and stared down at her, he clenched his jaw and stopped moving entirely.

  Persephone shivered. Had she done something wrong? Hades closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You’re going to be the death of me, my love. The things you are doing would drive any man to distraction.”

  He opened his eyes again and this time there was a whisper of amusement on his face before determination and lust drove it away. He looked wild and feral all of a sudden — like a predator who has found the perfect prey and anticipated an easy kill. Hades lowered his face to hers for a moment. They lay cheek to cheek in the great bed of the god of death.

  “You have bewitched me,” he murmured. “Now you must pay the price.”

  He captured her mouth again, his lips twining seductively around hers while his tongue mated with hers in a frenzied dance. Hades began to move inside her again, his tempo rising and rising until it reached a crescendo of power and passion that weakened all Persephone’s defenses. She dug her fingernails into his back, surprised at his hiss of pleasure. She couldn’t believe it; his phallus was growing bigger. Every stroke electrified her body, sending escalating shudders of tingling excitement through her body. At last he slammed into her with the furious passion only a god can display and she was helpless beneath him, caught up in the throes of her own fervor.

  They were building to something, only Persephone didn’t know what that could be. She moaned when the excitement grew too intense, but that just made Hades move faster inside her as he took delicate little nips at the over sensitized flesh of her throat and shoulders. He forced her face to his and covered her mouth with his. The frantic pulsing of his tongue with hers mirrored the frenzied possession of her body. There was nothing but Hades and her, him and she, alone in an isolated place where only pleasure and love spiraled about them.

  Hades’ body went rigid. His fingers dug into her shoulders as his thrusts grew stronger.

  And then, suddenly, they both exploded. Hades jerked a few more times inside her, intensifying the long, slow waves of release that softened her muscles into complete pliancy beneath him. Hades lowered himself to her gently. He kissed her softly now, dropping little kisses on her sweaty forehead and around her eyes, pushing her hair back from her face as he removed his phallus from her and lay carefully on one side. He leaned down on one elbow, his hands gentling away the final sparks of passion with delicate strokes of her skin. He tucked her into the curve of his arm and Persephone relaxed contentedly against his warm side.

  “Hades?”

  “Yes, my wife?”

  “I love you.” Sleepiness was rushing over her in long, languorous waves.

  “And you, my love,” he murmured, brushing an affectionate kiss on top of her curls. “I love you too, Persephone. It won’t be long before the other immortals know of our marriage. We will have to hide no longer.”

  “Good,” she said drowsily. “Then maybe they’ll leave us alone.”

  Hades waited until her breathing slowed into sleep before he slid gently from her. He picked up his dark cloak and covered her with it, lingering a moment to lift one tangled curl and smooth it between his fingers. As the last vestiges of contentment fled from his body, he turned with decisiveness. Dressing quickly in a tunic the hue of the darkest night, he left the bedchamber and his drowsing wife behind.

  He’d felt the Underground tremble when Hermes, Zeus’ messenger had entered his realm. While he’d made love to his young wife, the sensation had been disguised by the magical pulses that shrouded the consummation of his marriage.

  Somehow, through some unknown agency, Hermes’ arrival at his palace had been delayed long enough for Hades to teach Persephone about the power and beauty in lovemaking. He wouldn’t have hurried her first true taste of pleasure if Zeus himself had pounded on the door.

  But now it was time for the King of the Underworld to face the consequences of his actions. He threw a second cloak over his shoulders and kissed his sleeping wife. Then he picked up his scepter and strode from the room.

  He was ready to do battle with whichever of the Olympians would dare to take Persephone from him. If necessary, he would populate all the far-flung reaches of his domain with shattered and broken gods in order to keep her.

  Chapter Seven

  “MY LORD HADES, KING of the Underworld, I ask your permission to speak the words of Zeus the Thunderer, King of Olympus,” Hermes said. “I have come with a command for you from the throne of the gods.”


  Hades didn’t look like he’d been sporting in his bedchamber with his new wife. He’d made certain he looked cold and stern upon his great throne. He looked down at the messenger with a flicker of jealousy.

  This boy, this stripling god with winged feet had dared to think he was a fit mate for Persephone? Even now, Hermes stepped back at the flash of rage in Hades’ eyes, clutching his scroll case with a nervous drumming of his fingers.

  “You may speak,” Hades sneered. “Unless you’d prefer to drop that scroll on a table and make your escape, messenger boy. Have no fear; I cannot claim you as one of mine. You are immortal; I will not touch you.”

  Hermes’ eyes narrowed at the insult, but his voice was bland as he replied, “Even so, Hades, I am bid to command you to listen to the words of Zeus.” He slipped the scroll out of the case, unrolled it and read.

  “Hades, King of the Underworld — I acceded to your desire for my daughter and gave you an opportunity to claim her. Her mother walks endlessly on the earth, grieving for her lost daughter and punishing the mortal realm for her theft, since it was upon mortal lands that Persephone disappeared. For the sakes of the mortals we are bound to protect and the purpose of peace upon Olympus, I command you to bring the girl back to her mother. I expect to see you in my throne room with the girl, inviolate and virgin still, where I shall be forced to pass judgment upon this serious situation.”

  Hermes looked up cautiously. Although Hades was almost always in perfect control of his temper — a quality neither of his brothers possessed — there was never any way to predict the reactions of an immortal to such a summons.

  Hermes looked surprised, therefore, when Hades gave him a brief, cold smile. “Tell my brother I will be there.” The King of the Underworld rose from his throne. “You have half a minute to leave my realm before I throw you out.”

  Hermes bowed and turned for the door, an angry snap to his step. As soon as the messenger vanished from Hades’ sight, Pan scurried out from behind the throne. “By the Styx, cousin! What are you going to do?”

  “I will obey my brother’s wishes.”

  “What?”

  “Persephone married me of her own free will and that marriage is now consummated. Her virginity has been lost. No matter how Zeus blusters and bellows, nothing can alter that fact. I have won her.”

  Pan looked at the King of the Underworld with pity. “Virginity can be restored, you know. That’s how Hera regains hers every year. She bathes in the fountain of Kanathos which recreates any woman’s virginity. It’s how she keeps Zeus chained to her side. At least once every year, he’ll get to despoil a virgin without fear of consequences.”

  Hades leaned forward, his eyes glittering. “Are you certain about this?”

  Pan looked injured. “It is my business to know of the wild magic one can find in the woods. Asking me if I’m certain about this is like asking you if you’re certain there’s life after death.”

  Hades’ rage evaporated, to be replaced by desperate fear. “If I lose her now, what shall I do? My wife loves me. I have promised her safety here and my protection. She doesn’t want to go back! I even offered her the chance to do so.”

  “If Demeter finds out you stole her daughter with Zeus’ permission and assistance, the mortal realm will be torn asunder,” Pan prophesied grimly. “Just like the war against the Titans, only worse.”

  “What am I going to do? I could hide her perhaps — no! I can’t do that! The Underworld itself would be besieged.” Hades turned to his cousin, rare terror in his eyes. “What do you advise?”

  Pan thought for a few minutes. At length, he said, “I’m not certain there’s anything you can do, Hades. You’re going to have to attend; that much is certain. As for the rest, you need to tell Persephone what is going on and hope that she is persuasive before her mother and father. Otherwise, you’re damned to spend the rest of eternity apart as if you’ve never met or, if you displease the King and defy him, maybe as constellations set on opposite sides of the sky. Whatever you do, cousin, don’t blast into the throne room breathing war and fire or the whole lot of us are doomed.”

  Persephone awoke, concerned when she didn’t see Hades in the bed beside her. She pushed back her tangled hair and looked around the room. He was nowhere to be seen. She rose, pleasantly aware of the satisfied ache in her body.

  She was a wife. She was a Queen and goddess to the Underworld and the shades who resided there. There was so much she had to learn. Hades would be a gentle teacher.

  Persephone rose and donned a dark gown and robe. She walked to the window and peered out over Hades’ realm.

  My realm.

  Overcome with a longing for her husband, she decided to seek him out. She hurried through the passageways of the palace, her bare feet soundless on the marble floors. Once outside the palace, she shivered.

  I like to come here sometimes and think. My orchards are a beautiful place and it reminds me of the mortal realm.

  Maybe he was in the orchards? She turned from one side to the other, trying to remember the path they’d taken. Recognizing a statue on the path to her left, she followed it.

  I hope I find him. I want nothing more than to make love with him again. It was glorious and beautiful beyond my expectations.

  The Underworld mirrored the passage of day and night from the world above. The thick groves of pomegranate trees dropped heavy shadows upon the paths below. Persephone ducked between the trees, searching for her husband. Since her marriage, she’d become attuned to the realm of the dead. She could feel something stirring within the Underworld, growling like a wolf to an invader. She slowed for a moment, looking through the trees for some sight of him.

  “My lady?”

  Persephone whirled at the sound of the voice. Ascalaphos stood a few feet away, watching her curiously.

  “Are you looking for something, my lady?”

  “I am searching for my husband,” Persephone replied haughtily. “Is he in the orchards?”

  “No, my lady. He is walking with his cousin Pan.”

  “Pan? Here in the Underworld? How is that possible?”

  “My lord has always been fond of Pan. They meet sometimes on the mortal plane when Lord Hades goes to the surface. They’ve been talking since Hermes left.”

  “Since Hermes left?” she echoed. “Why was he here?”

  “To demand your return,” Ascalaphos replied. “My lady, I hear almost everything that happens in Lord Hades’ domain. I know enough to tell you that Zeus has betrayed him. He has withdrawn his consent to the match between you because your mother is punishing the mortal realm. Humans are suffering from drought and famine. Demeter must be appeased.”

  “But…but we’re married!” she blurted.

  “Yes, my lady, but those on Olympus can undo whatever they wish. They are bound only by the rules of each realm.”

  Persephone looked at him sharply. Was it her imagination or had he stressed the last few words?

  The rules of each realm.

  What had she heard about the Underworld? It was some gossipy thing Amphitrite had said.

  “Ascalaphos,” the young Queen of the Underworld said. “Hand me a pomegranate, please.”

  The shade hastened to do her bidding. He pulled a pomegranate from the nearest tree and inspected it, turning it over slowly to check for imperfections. He pulled a bronze knife from his waist and sliced the fruit open. Inside the pomegranate were hundreds of red, juicy seeds, clustered together in the heart of the fruit. Ascalaphos handed the open fruit to her.

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

  Persephone looked down at the fruit in her open hand. “Ascalaphos, you will have to pretend you saw this by accident. We must make it appear that I in my ignorance ate of this fruit. If my mother thinks I have done this intentionally, she will not drop her complaint to Zeus. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, my lady. Leave it to me.”

  Perseph
one plucked seven of the seeds from their heart-shaped bed and put them in her mouth. The refreshing juice of the pomegranate flooded her mouth, leaving a sweet, sharp taste on her tongue. Without another word, the young goddess discarded the rest of the fruit on the ground. Several of the seeds burst free from their containment and rolled a little distance away.

  “Seven seeds,” she murmured. “That should be enough.”

  “Seven seeds,” he repeated. “Yes, my lady.”

  “You will have to appear in front of the court of Olympus,” she warned him. “And I will have to pretend to punish you for telling on me.”

  “A bird would be nice,” he said without a tremor of fear. “I’ve always wanted to fly.”

  The young goddess laughed. “Very well. And when we return to the Underworld, I will transform you back so you can care for our orchards.”

  Ascalaphos bowed and Persephone smiled at him. There was a quiet echo of voices in the distance, near to the great house of Hades. She turned from the noise, walking swiftly away from Ascalaphos and the orchards and the torn pomegranate back to the warm bedchamber where she would wait for her husband.

  She had sealed her fate.

  As Hades opened the door to the bedchamber, he was surprised to find Persephone awake and waiting for him. She sat in his big chair next the fire, her legs kicked up over the arm and her feet swinging as they dangled several feet above the floor. She looked up as he entered.

  The god’s breath got stuck in his throat.

  She was wearing a nearly transparent gown of gauzy black silk, cut so it showed much of her lovely breasts. Her skin looked translucent next to the severe black garment, glowing almost pink in the light of the greedy fire. Persephone smiled at him, allowing her lashes to sweep over her beautiful eyes.

  “You shouldn’t have deserted me so soon in our marriage,” she teased him. “It will make me suspicious and jealous.”