“I hate waiting for you,” she said.
“Then find me,” Hades said, kissing down her neck.
“You are busy.”
“Dreaming about being inside you,” he said.
She managed a breathy laugh.
“I love that laugh,” he said, kissing her.
“I love you,” she said.
Something changed when she uttered those words. Hades met her gaze and held it as he seated himself on the edge of his throne. Persephone kept her legs wrapped around his waist.
“Say it again,” he said.
She studied him for a moment and twisted his hair around her fingers. It would be her lifeline, because she knew by Hades’s voice and the way he looked at her, she was about to be consumed.
“I love you, Hades,” she said softly.
His smile was breathtaking, and he kissed her, helping her move up and down his shaft.
“I love you. You are perfection,” he said, squeezing her bottom where he still held her. “You are my lover. You are my queen.”
He leaned back and slipped his hand between them. A new sensation accosted her as he stroked her cleft. She groaned and took control, riding him harder, faster, feeling him deeper than ever before.
Hades responded, meeting her thrusts. The pounding of their bodies was vicious, and they came brutally. Persephone collapsed against him, their bodies slick and hot, as they struggled to catch their breath.
After a few moments, she felt Hades kiss her hair.
“Why is this the first time I am hearing about your fantasies?” she asked.
When he did not immediately respond, she looked at him.
“How do I verbalize such a thing?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I suppose you just…tell me what you want,” she said. “Is that not what you would want from me?”
A smile pulled at his lips. “Yes,” he answered. “So tell me, what is your fantasy?”
Persephone did not expect that question, and despite the fact that she lay in her lover’s arms, naked and covered in sweat from lovemaking, she blushed.
“I…do not think I have one,” she said.
“You’ll forgive me if I do not believe you,” he said.
“No,” she said. “I won’t. It is in your nature to detect lies.”
Hades offered a small laugh and then, “But what will it take? To learn of your fantasies?”
Persephone did not respond immediately as she traced her finger along his well-muscled chest.
“One day…I want you…to restrain me,” she said.
She noted how hard Hades swallowed, but he did not laugh, and for that, she was grateful.
“I will always do as you ask,” he said.
They were silent for a long moment, then Persephone spoke.
“And you?” Her voice was quiet. “What other fantasies live in that head of yours?”
Hades chuckled, his arms tightening around her slick body.
“Darling, every time I fuck you, it’s a fantasy.”
Chapter XVII
A Touch of Shadow
Persephone headed to work early Monday morning. She had received an email from Helen late last night asking for a meeting first thing. She had an update on Triad and their leadership, and Persephone was eager to find out what she’d learned. On the way, she opened her tablet to catch up on the news. The first headline that drew her attention was the largest, and it was located under a banner that read breaking news.
An individual identifying themselves as a member of the Rebirth Movement, a sect of impious mortals, claim they have successfully dehorned a goddess.
Dread pooled in Persephone’s stomach but also hope. Hades had suspected this news would come out eventually. This was their chance to track the culprits who had hurt and mutilated Harmonia and possibly murdered Adonis.
Upon reading the article, she was a little surprised to find there wasn’t much information, and even the author sounded skeptical of the report. It seemed they had received a call from an individual who told them of the incident—but without any details. They’d stated the group had managed to “subdue a goddess” and “cut off her horns.”
When asked for proof of the incident, the caller stated, “The world will have proof when we wear the horns of the gods to the battlefield.”
Whether this report is factual remains to be seen, but one thing is clear, the Rebirth is a violent entity—the worst kind, because they believe they are actually fighting for the greater good.
“We are a shield for those who no longer wish to be ruled by the gods. We will cut the threads that bind us to fate, free those under the spell of their divinity. We are freedom.”
It was a promise and a declaration of war.
“My lady?” Antoni’s voice was a soft rumble. She looked up, meeting his gaze in the rearview mirror. “Are you alright?”
“Yes,” she answered. “I was just reading something…disturbing.”
Antoni’s brow dipped. “Is there anything I can do?”
“No, Antoni, but thank you,” Persephone said. As she started to store her tablet, Antoni moved to exit the vehicle. “Don’t, Antoni. It’s too cold.”
“Allow me to help you to the door. The sidewalk and steps are slick.”
“Even more reason for you to stay,” she answered.
“If you insist,” he finally relented. “I will see you this evening.”
“Of course. Have a good day, Antoni.”
“And you, my lady.”
Persephone did not know what sort of errands or tasks Antoni had outside of taking her to work. Once, when the giant had come to get her, he had come from picking up dry cleaning, though when asked if it was for Hades, he’d said no. Another time, he’d had a case of red wines that, he had explained, was an order for Milan. Whatever it was, though, he always seemed perfectly happy to execute.
She left the warm comfort of the back seat of the Lexus and entered the frigid daytime air. The sidewalk was slick, but a layer of salt and sand made it easier to stabilize. Once inside, she greeted Ivy, accepted her coffee with a grateful nod, and entered the elevator. On the way up, she held the cup to her cheeks and nose until they were warm and kept her jacket on even after she entered her office. Was she imagining things? It definitely felt colder in here. Persephone knew this weather could lead to energy and power failures, and she had no doubt Demeter would continue to that point. In fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if that was her mother’s next method of killing—freezing people to death.
There was a knock at her door, and Persephone looked up, meeting Helen’s gaze. She was dressed in a black knitted top and a black-and-white plaid skirt. She wore thick stockings and knee-high boots to keep warm, and her blond hair was twisted into an updo. A pair of pearl earrings completed the look. Despite the fact that Helen always looked chic, Persephone thought she looked a little more dressed up than usual.
“You look very beautiful,” Persephone said.
“Thank you,” Helen said, her cheeks coloring. “I…am meeting someone for lunch.”
“Oh?” Persephone raised a brow. “Anyone I know?”
“I don’t think so. At least not yet.”
Persephone took that to mean Helen hoped to introduce her to this mystery person. Still, she didn’t press. Helen had arrived for their meeting, and as much as Persephone enjoyed the company of both her and Leuce, she liked to keep things as professional as possible at work.
After a beat of silence, Persephone gestured to the couch in front of her desk.
“Have a seat,” she said. “I believe you had something to share.”
“Yes,” Helen said, sitting. “I wanted to discuss my article with you. I’m taking it in a new direction.”
“Go on,” Persephone encouraged, curious. She took up her pen, re
ady to take notes.
Helen hesitated.
“I did what you suggested,” she began, and something about those words made Persephone’s stomach turn. “I reached out to members of Triad and managed to land an interview with one of their leaders—a high lord.”
“A high lord?”
“They…have a kind of hierarchy,” Helen explained. “It’s to protect those who cannot protect themselves.”
“You mean those with power are at the top,” Persephone said.
“Real power,” Helen said, as if Persephone did not know what real power was.
“You mean like the gods?”
“Yes and no,” she said. “They have the power of the gods, but they use it to protect. They answer prayers, Persephone. They listen.”
“Helen,” Persephone said, dropping her pen. “You are misguided.”
“I’m not. I have seen it.”
“You’ve seen it,” Persephone stated flatly. “What have you seen? Give me an example.”
“I have been to their meetings and heard testimony,” Helen said. Persephone made a mental note to come back to what Helen had just disclosed—meetings? What meetings? The mortal continued. “This man had cancer. He prayed to Apollo, offered sacrifices, even showed up at one of his performances and begged for his help. No answer—not a word. He came to Triad, and one of the high lords healed him.”
Persephone stiffened hearing this story. It sounded all too familiar.
“Have you ever stopped to consider why the gods may not have answered those prayers?”
“Yes! And the answer is always why? Why should we suffer illness and disease and death when the gods exist in perpetual health and immortality?”
Persephone did not have an answer for that, because even she did not know, except that after losing Lexa, she had to believe that every fiber woven into the tapestry of the world served a greater purpose. Perhaps it was that sometimes a friend must die for a goddess to rise.
She stared at Helen, wondering what had lured her to the side of Triad so quickly.
“Seriously, Persephone. I thought you would understand after what happened to Lexa.”
“Do not say her name,” Persephone said, her voice shaking.
“If given the chance, would you not have had her live forever?”
“What I want does not matter. You speak of things you know nothing of. It is one thing to proclaim the gods should be held accountable for their actions—that, certainly, is true. It is another thing to actively disturb the balance of the world.”
And Persephone had learned the consequences of those actions the hard way.
Helen rolled her eyes. “You have been brainwashed—too much time spent on Hades’s dick.”
“That is not appropriate,” Persephone snapped and stood. “If this is the intended direction of your article, I will not approve it for publication.”
Helen lifted her chin, defiance flashing in her eyes.
“You don’t have to,” she said, a smug tone in her voice. “I’ll take it to Demetri.”
“Do it,” Persephone said. “But you will regret it.”
“Is that a threat?” Helen asked.
“That depends,” Persephone said. “Are you afraid?”
She noted the doubt that flashed in Helen’s eyes. Persephone picked up her phone and chose Ivy’s direct line.
“Lady Persephone?”
“Ivy. Please summon Zofie.”
As she hung up, Helen spoke.
“You’re afraid. Afraid you’ll lose your status when Hades falls.”
Persephone placed her hands flat on the table and leaned forward, ensuring that the glamour that kept the true fire of her eyes hidden melted away as she leveled her gaze with Helen’s.
“Now that felt like a threat,” Persephone said, her voice quiet. “Was it a threat?”
Helen’s eyes went wide, and before the mortal could speak, there was a knock at the door. Neither of them moved, both held in place by the tension in the room. Persephone recognized it as her magic—it made the air feel heavy and electric.
Another knock and the door opened. Zofie stood in the threshold, her dark hair in her usual braid. She was dressed in a black tunic, pants, and boots. She looked unassuming, not at all the warrior she was raised to be.
“My lady, you needed my assistance?”
“Yes, Zofie. Please escort Helen from the premises. She is to speak to no one as she leaves the building.”
“I need to pack my office,” Helen argued.
Persephone didn’t look at her, keeping her gaze on her aegis.
“Zofie, see that Helen only collects her personal belongings from her office.”
“As you wish, my lady,” Zofie said, bowing her head. She turned to Helen. “Go.”
Helen took a step toward the door but turned back to Persephone.
“A new era is coming, Persephone. I thought you were smart enough to be at the forefront. I guess I was wrong.”
Without warning, Zofie pushed Helen out the door, causing her to stumble forward. The mortal caught herself before spinning to face Zofie.
“How dare you!” Helen snarled.
Zofie drew a dagger from a hidden sheath beneath her tunic. It glinted beneath the fluorescent lights in the waiting area.
“Lady Persephone didn’t say you had to leave the building walking. Go.”
When they were gone, Persephone collapsed into her chair, feeling exhausted. She couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the conversation she’d just had with Helen. She definitely had not expected her to change her perspective on Triad after such a short investigation. Then again, she did not know much about Helen outside of her work ethic, which had always appeared dedicated and enthusiastic.
And those qualities she hadn’t lost but applied elsewhere.
Perhaps there was something else at work that Persephone could not see, something in Helen’s personal life that made siding with Triad the better option.
Feeling frustrated, Persephone left her floor for Hades’s office. When she arrived, it was empty, and everything looked untouched. The desk was clear except for a vase of white narcissus and a picture frame. The narcissus were refreshed daily by Ivy, who, being a dryad, had a special talent for keeping flowers alive longer than usual.
Even in his absence, being in a space that smelled like him calmed her nerves, so she lingered, walking to the window to stare out at the wintery day. Below, she saw Helen waiting on the icy sidewalk, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she shivered noticeably. After a moment, a black limo arrived.
Persephone’s brows lowered, wondering who’d sent it for her. Helen usually took public transportation to and from work. Perhaps she was more tangled in Triad than Persephone thought. The driver was no help. He left the comfort of his cabin dressed in a suit and no identifying markings. He opened the door, and Helen slid inside before the vehicle crept down the road.
Suddenly, Hades manifested behind Persephone, standing close. She expected him to place his hands around her waist; instead, he caged her with them, palms pressed flat to the window.
“Careful,” Persephone said. “Ivy will scold you for smudging the glass.”
“Do you think she will have an opinion if I fuck you against it?”
Persephone turned to face him, and the teasing light in his eyes dimmed.
“What’s wrong?”
She told him everything, including what she considered to be Helen’s threat—when Hades falls. Slowly, he peeled his hands from the window, and they settled at his sides. His brows lowered, his lips twisting into a grimace.
“Are you afraid for me?”
“Yes. Yes, you idiot. Look at what those people did to Harmonia!”
“Persephone—”
“Hades,” Persephone cut him off. “D
o not diminish my fear of losing you. It’s just as valid.”
His features softened. “I’m sorry.”
“I know you are powerful,” she said. “But…I cannot help thinking that Triad is trying to bring about another Titanomachy.”
She hated to say it—hated to unearth what had caused such unrest within Hades—but she needed to speak the words, say them aloud. She thought that once they were in the air between them, they would sound ridiculous, completely improbable.
But they didn’t.
Because she was certain the primordial gods and the Titans had felt untouchable, and they had still fallen.
Hades placed his hands on either side of Persephone’s face.
“I cannot promise we will not have war a thousand times over during our lifetime,” he said. “But I will promise that I will never leave you willingly.”
“Can you promise to never leave at all?”
He offered a small, sad smile and then kissed her. His hands twined into her hair and then glided to her back and hips, exploring. She wanted this more than she wanted to think about how he hadn’t answered her question, so she rubbed his cock through his pants, eliciting a growl from somewhere deep in his throat. In response, he gripped her hips, grinding into her, but Persephone pushed against his chest and met his gaze.
“Let me have this,” she said.
“What do you want?” he asked.
She took his hands and led him behind his desk, where she pushed him into his chair and knelt before him. Poised between his thighs, she released the button of his slacks and unzipped them, his jutting sex rising, thick and hard, from the fabric.
She held his gaze as she wrapped her hand around the base of his cock, stroking him, increasing the pressure as she moved toward his head. If his gaze were fire, she would have burned happily beneath it. She smiled as he ground his teeth, and his fingers turned white as he held on to the arms of his chair. Then she bent, drawing her tongue along his crown. He tasted bitter and warm and smelled like spice.
A soft groan escaped his mouth, and then words.
“Yes,” he said. “This. I dream of this.”
A Touch of Malice Page 19