“I will join you shortly.”
He stared at her for a moment, and when he leaned forward, she parted her mouth, anticipating his kiss—except he pressed his lips to her forehead.
A mix of emotions flooded her—disappointment and embarrassment warred. What was going on in Hades’s head? Whatever it was, it felt like he was punishing her. She stared at him, swallowing what she wanted to say—the accusations she wanted to throw—and whispered good night before crawling beneath the cool covers, too tired to think long about Hades’s avoidant kiss, and fell into a deep sleep.
* * *
She woke later to find Hades sitting on the bed, his bare back to her, feet planted on the floor.
Well, she thought, he has made progress coming to bed at least.
She reached for him; her hand splayed across the hard muscles of his back.
“Are you well?” she whispered.
He turned and looked at her, then shifted completely, his naked body stretching until his mouth lined up with hers, but instead of kissing her, he brushed his thumb tenderly over her cheek.
“I am well,” he said and straightened. “Sleep. I will be here when you wake.”
But those words did not bring her comfort, and instead of listening, she sat up and rolled onto her knees.
“What if I don’t want to sleep?”
She straddled him, her arms going around his neck while his hands settled on her waist.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “You did not kiss me earlier and you will not lay with me now.”
She felt his hands flex against her sides.
“I cannot sleep,” he said. “Because I cannot stop my mind.”
“I can help you,” she whispered.
He smiled a little, but it was sad, and when he said nothing more, she spoke.
“And…why won’t you kiss me.”
“Because there is rage inside my body, and to indulge in you…well, I am not certain what kind of release I would find.”
“Are you angry with me?” she asked, her fingers twining into his hair.
“No, but I am afraid that I have agreed to something that will only hurt you, and already I cannot forgive myself.”
“Hades,” she whispered his name, his fears hurting her heart. She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t just his decision, it had been hers too, but she knew she could not give him comfort. This was a god who had lived for centuries, a god who knew the world unlike she did, a god who had reason to believe as he did, and she could not argue with that.
She leaned closer; her breath caressed his lips. The tension between their bodies was electric.
“Indulge in me,” she whispered. “I can handle you.”
He crushed her to him, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, kissing her until she couldn’t breathe, until her eyes watered and her chest hurt, and just when she thought she couldn’t handle it anymore, he broke from her.
As she drew in ragged breaths, his hands skimmed under her nightshirt, guiding the fabric over her head. When she was naked, his hands pressed into every part of her—her back and breasts and ass—and he kissed her mouth and sucked her neck and nipples. The sweet sensation and biting pleasure had her dragging her nails down his back, and then he entered her—slipping one finger inside, then the other, working her so fast and so hard, she didn’t recognize the sounds coming out of her mouth.
“Please,” she chanted. “Please, please, please.”
“Please what?” he asked.
Her answer was guttural cry of release. She wasn’t recovered when he deposited her on the bed, and her legs were so numb, they hung open, ready for him. Hades sat back on his heels before her, stroking himself.
“Can you handle me?” he asked.
“Yes,” she breathed. In the next second, he grasped her ass, tilted her hips, and slammed into her, moving at a pace that spoke of his desperation to come. Once again, his hands were everywhere—gripping her thighs, kneading her breasts. Now and then, he bent to taste her tongue or lick the sweat from her skin, and when they came, Persephone was sure everyone in the Underworld heard their cries of ecstasy.
Hades collapsed upon her, ragged and wet and heavy.
Persephone wrapped her legs around him, and her hands moved to his hair, smoothing it from his face. When she caught her breath, she spoke, her throat aching from the cries Hades had torn from her throat.
“You’re mine. Of course I can handle you.”
It was what she’d wanted to say earlier when he’d asked, but she hadn’t had enough air to do so. Hades pulled away to look at her, his gaze penetrating her, straight to the soul.
This, she thought, was the most vulnerable they’d ever been with one another.
“I never thought I’d thank the Fates for anything they gave me, but you—you were worth all of it.”
“All of what?”
“The suffering.”
Chapter VIII
A Concession
Persephone woke in a panic.
It wasn’t spurred by a dream but by the feeling that she had overslept. She shot up from bed, her gaze falling to Hades, who stood before the fireplace. After the intensity with which he’d made love to her last night, she had expected him to be asleep beside her. Finding him awake and fully dressed made her chest feel a little hollow.
Still, he was beautiful and there was something different in his expression, a vulnerability that came with the words he’d spoken last night.
He was afraid.
And he had every right to be, because someone out there had incapacitated a god.
She knew that fear was not for himself, though. It was for her, and all she could think was that perhaps if she were stronger, if she could call upon her power like Hades, he wouldn’t have to worry.
“Did you sleep at all?” she asked.
“No.”
She frowned. She had not heard him stir. Had he risen shortly after she had fallen asleep?
“Nightmare?” he asked.
“No. I…thought I overslept.”
“Hmm.”
He threw back his drink and set it aside, approaching her. She craned her neck, holding his gaze, as he brushed her cheek with his fingers.
“Why didn’t you sleep?” she asked.
“I didn’t feel like sleeping,” he said.
She arched a brow. “I thought you would be exhausted.”
He chuckled and spoke gently. “I didn’t say I wasn’t tired.”
His thumb lingered on her mouth, and Persephone drew it between her lips, sucking hard. Hades inhaled, nostrils flaring, and his other hand tangled into her hair at the base of her neck.
It was a sign—a hint—that he had not fully released the darkness he tried to keep at bay last night, or perhaps he had refilled his well as she slept. Either way, she saw the same hint of violence, the same need for unabashed passion as last night.
His eyes were on her lips, and the tension between them dampened the space between her legs.
“Why are you holding back?” she whispered.
“Oh, darling, if you only knew.”
“I’d like to.” She let the sheet drop from around her breasts.
There was a beat of silence, a moment when Hades was still as stone, but he did not bite. Instead, he swallowed hard and said, “I will keep that in mind. For now, I’d like you to get dressed. I have a surprise for you.”
“What could be more of a surprise than what’s going on in that head of yours?”
He offered a breathy laugh and kissed her nose. “Dress. I will wait for you.”
Persephone tracked him as he headed for the doors, calling out to him as he reached them.
“You don’t have to wait outside.”
“Yes, I do.”
She didn’t question him—j
ust let him slip out as she left the bed and dressed for the day. On a typical August day, she’d wear a summer dress to work, something bright and patterned, but her mother’s storm raging above called for warmer clothes. She picked a long sleeve black shirt, gray skirt, and tights. She paired it with heels and her warmest woolen jacket. When she stepped into the hallway, Hades was waiting, frowning.
“What?” she asked, looking down at her outfit.
“I’m trying to assess how long it will take me to undress you.”
“Isn’t that why you stepped out of the room?” she asked.
The corner of his mouth lifted. “I’m merely planning ahead.”
She warmed—was he making a promise to deliver on his earlier thoughts? He held out his hand for her to take and then pulled her flush against him before his magic surrounded them.
They manifested in what appeared to be a waiting room. There was an emerald couch over which two modern art prints hung and a gold and glass coffee table. The floor was white marble, and a wall of glass overlooked a familiar street. She recognized it was Konstantine Street—the same one she’d walked down with Lexa when she’d first visited Alexandria Tower.
A rush of emotion burned her eyes at the thought of her best friend. She cleared her throat and asked, “Why are we at Alexandria Tower?”
The tower was another building owned by Hades out of which the Cypress Foundation, Hades’s philanthropic business, operated. Persephone had learned from Lexa that Hades had multiple charities—ones that supported animals and women and those who had lost. She remembered feeling embarrassed that she had not known of his multiple endeavors, and when she’d confronted him, he’d explained that he had been so used to existing alone, he never thought to speak about how he was involved in the Upperworld.
Later, she discovered his world extended beyond the Underworld and his philanthropy to the underbelly of New Greece. She was well aware she did not understand the gravity of what Hades controlled, and that thought made her shiver.
“I would like for you to office here,” Hades said.
Persephone turned to look at him, eyes wide.
“Is this because of yesterday?”
“That is one reason,” Hades replied and continued. “It will also be convenient. I’d like your input as we continue the Halcyon Project, and I imagine your work with The Advocate will lead to other ideas.”
She lifted a brow. “Are you asking me to work with Katerina?”
Katerina was the director of the Cypress Foundation and worked with Sybil on the Halcyon Project, a state-of-the-art rehabilitation center that would offer free care to mortals. Not long ago, they’d announced a therapy garden that would be dedicated to Lexa, who had worked on the plan before her death.
“Yes,” he said. “You are to be queen of my realm and empire. It’s only fitting that this foundation begins to benefit your passions as well.”
Persephone said nothing and turned in a circle, assessing the space from a new perspective. There were four doors—two on either side of the waiting area. One led to a conference room, the other three to smaller offices. They were bare except for simple desks, but as she observed, she started to imagine operating in this place.
“You are opposed?” he asked.
“No,” she said. Her thoughts were just spiraling.
She thought of something Hades had said: It is only a matter of time before someone with a vendetta against me tries to harm you. They were words Persephone had hardly believed at the time, mostly because she hadn’t wanted to—but since then, she’d seen the truth over and over again, from Kal to Pirithous to the angry woman who had poured coffee on her.
Now there was another potential threat—Adonis and Harmonia’s unknown attackers.
She would be insane not to take Hades up on his offer.
“Thank you. I can’t wait to tell Helen and Leuce.”
The corner of Hades’s lip lifted, and he reached to brush her cheek.
“Selfishly, I will be glad to have you close.”
“You rarely work here,” Persephone pointed out.
“As of today, this is my favorite office.”
She tried not to smile, narrowing her eyes upon the god, her future husband. “Lord Hades, I must inform you that I am here to work.”
“Of course,” he said. “But you will need breaks and lunch, and I look forward to filling that time.”
“Isn’t the point of a break not to do anything?”
“I didn’t say I’d make you work.”
His hands tightened on her waist. It was a familiar pressure, one that was usually followed by a kiss, but as he started to pull her forward, someone cleared their throat, and Persephone turned to find Katerina.
“My Lady Persephone!” She grinned, offering a cute curtsy. She was dressed in yellow silk and khaki slacks. Her tight curls created a halo around her head.
“Katerina,” Persephone said and smiled. “A pleasure.”
“I apologize for the intrusion,” Katerina said. “As soon as I heard Hades had arrived, I knew I would have to catch him before he vanished.”
Persephone glanced up at Hades, who was now looking at Katerina. The expression on his face made her curious. He seemed calm enough on the surface, but there was a slight tightening of his lips that made her wonder just what Katerina had to share with the God of the Dead.
“I will be along shortly, Katerina.”
“Of course.” The mortal’s gaze slipped to Persephone. “We’re honored to have you here, my lady.”
She left after that, and Persephone peered up at Hades.
“What was that about?”
“I will tell you later,” he said.
She raised a challenging brow. “Just as you were going to tell me where you had been the other night?”
“I told you I was bargaining with monsters.”
“A non-answer if there ever was one,” she commented.
Hades frowned. “I do not wish to keep things from you. I just do not know what to burden you with in your grief.”
Persephone opened her mouth and then closed it. “I am not angry with you. I was joking, mostly.”
Hades offered a breathy laugh. “Mostly.”
He was stroking her cheek again, and his gaze was tender.
“We’ll talk tonight,” he promised.
She thought he would kiss her, but instead he withdrew his touch and left the floor. Persephone stood there for a second, lost in a haze of desire, and suddenly all she wanted to do was follow him and challenge him to take her in his glass office before all of creation as he’d once promised. He wouldn’t hesitate—he was just as insatiable as she—and if she weren’t more careful with her thoughts and actions, there would be no talking tonight as he promised.
She sighed and withdrew her phone, sending a quick text to Leuce and Helen, letting them know to meet her at Alexandria Tower instead of their usual spot. Persephone had to admit, she was relieved that she would be able to work without the public watching her every move.
She roamed the room again, soaking in the reality that she had a new space for her business, mentally preparing for how she would arrange the space and her new office.
She ended up by the windows. Being on the third floor meant she had a stunning view of New Athens, shrouded in heavy clouds, mist, and snow. Plows and salt trucks were working to clear the roads; all the while, more snow and ice fell. Even the window was pebbled with ice. She thought of Hecate’s words. Your mother terrorizes the Upperworld with snow and ice. The sun is just what the mortal world needs.
She placed her hand upon the glass.
There was a part of her that knew she could combat her mother because she had before. She’d sent Demeter to her knees in Hades’s court, and the Goddess of Harvest, ancient and powerful, had not risen against her power. Still, anoth
er part of her feared that had been a result of Demeter being less powerful in Hades’s realm.
You used Hades’s powers against him, she reminded herself, and it had been terrifying. Her insides shook in the aftermath, and she had felt exhausted in the weeks following, sleeping when she wasn’t working. She knew it was a sign that she was not yet strong enough to wield that kind of power. She was going to have to build up endurance, and the only way to do that was to practice more.
She shifted her gaze as a droplet of water skidded down the windowpane. She moved her hand, and beneath it, the ice had begun to melt. She pressed her fingers together, trying to decide if it was her power or her touch that had heated the glass. Her skin was not any warmer than usual, but her magic was on guard and alert. She could feel it, like highly sensitive nerves reacting to her frustration.
But that was the problem.
She had to start using power intentionally.
Placing her hand upon the window once more, she focused on the energy in her palm, warm and electric. Soon, the ice began to melt again. She watched beads of water trail down the glass, and all she could think was that this was a parlor trick. It was nothing compared to the magic she would need to bring down Demeter’s eternal winter.
She let her hand fall, and as she did, the beads of water froze in place.
“Persephone?”
She turned to find Sybil standing in the door of the office.
“Sybil,” she said, smiling. They hugged.
“Is it true? You will be working here?” Sybil asked.
“Hades has asked that I use this space as my office, and I have to admit, I’m more than happy to accept.”
She would be safe here, but more importantly, Leuce and Helen would be safe.
“How are you?” Persephone asked. “Has Ben bothered you?”
Sybil gave her a dark look and huffed. “I am so sorry about him, Persephone. I didn’t know he was so…”
“Weird?”
“I think I’m going to have to change my number.”
“I would offer to threaten him—or have Hades do it—but he did not seem to fear the gods.”
“I think he is too self-centered to fear the gods,” Sybil said.
A Touch of Malice Page 9