“Hades,” she whispered his name again and again. Her hands dove into his hair and then fell into the sheets beneath her, twisting as another climax tore through her, and when she came down from the high, Hades finally rested beside her.
Exhausted, she fell into a deep sleep.
Later she woke, finding Hades asleep beside her. He lay on his stomach, his fingers threaded through hers. He looked peaceful, the tendrils of darkness that had clung to him hours earlier banished by slumber. She watched him for a while and then disentangled herself from his grasp, pulling on a robe and slipping outside. She leaned against the balcony rail, watching the night. It was peaceful here, untouched by her mother’s destruction.
And it felt wrong to be here, wrong to feel so happy when such chaos reigned.
“Why do you frown?” Hades asked.
His voice startled her, and she turned to find him in the doorway, his naked body wreathed in light from the bedroom. Heat blossomed low in her belly as her eyes fell to his erect flesh and she thought of how he had looked at her in the grotto, the erotic words he’d spoken, the restraint he’d broken.
She swallowed and shook the thoughts from her head.
“You know we cannot stay here,” Persephone said. “Not with what we left behind.”
“One more night,” Hades said—pleaded.
“What if that’s too late?”
Hades did not speak. He left his place in the doorway and came to her, cupping her face, eyes searching.
“Can I not convince you to stay here?” he asked. “You would be safe, and I would return to you every free moment.”
Her hands closed over his forearms.
“Hades,” she whispered. “You know I won’t. What kind of queen would I be if I abandoned my people?”
His lips tilted upward, but his gaze was sad. “You are Queen of the Dead, not Queen of the Living.”
“The living eventually become ours, Hades. What good are we if we desert them in life?”
Hades sighed and rested his forehead against hers.
“I wish that you were as selfish as me,” he said.
“You are not selfish,” she said. “You would leave me here to help them, remember?”
His gaze fell to her lips and he kissed her. His hands slid to her waist, dipping beneath her robe, reaching to cup her hot center.
Persephone gasped, his name on her lips.
“Hades,” she breathed against his lips.
“If not another night, then at least another hour,” he said.
How could she say no?
Her arms closed around his neck as he lifted her onto the edge of the balcony, fingers dipping into her slick flesh long enough to elicit a moan. When he withdrew, her nails bit into his skin and Hades chuckled.
“You were wrong,” he said, bringing his fingers to his mouth. “I am selfish.”
She watched him, a carnal hunger erupting inside her. As he sucked on his flesh, she spread her legs wider, inviting him to return.
“Only an hour,” she reminded Hades.
His smile was barely there, and just as he moved to join them once again, he growled, pulling Persephone from the balcony’s ledge onto the ground.
“Fuck,” he spat. “Hermes.”
“I’d love to join you,” said the god, appearing on the balcony only a few steps away. “Another time, perhaps.”
Persephone turned away to fasten her robe, and when she looked back, she saw that the god’s chiseled face was marred with a large gash that ran from the bottom of his eye to his lip.
Her eyes widened.
“Hermes, what happened to your face?”
He smiled, his eyes gentle despite his answer. “I broke an oath.”
Persephone’s lips parted, and her gaze returned to Hades, who did not look at her, too angry and focused upon the God of Mischief.
“What do you want, Hermes? We were about to return.”
“How long is ‘about to’?” he asked, but the smirk he offered was humorless, and Persephone found that she did not like the melancholy clinging to him. Was this his grief at losing Tyche or something else?
“Hermes—” Hades began.
“Zeus has summoned both of you to Olympus,” Hermes interrupted. “He has called Council. They wish to discuss your separation.”
Chapter XX
A Council of Olympians
“Our separation?” Persephone repeated, looking to Hades. “Are there not more pressing issues? Like Triad murdering a goddess and attacking another?”
“I only gave you one reason Zeus called Council,” Hermes said. “That does not mean we will not discuss other concerns.”
“I will be along shortly, Hermes,” Hades said, having made no attempt to cover himself.
Hermes nodded, and then he looked at Persephone.
“See you later, Sephy,” he said, winking. He vanished, and she thought that perhaps he was trying to soften the guilt she felt at seeing his face scarred.
Persephone turned to Hades. “Did you do that to Hermes’s face?”
His jaw tightened. “You ask and yet you know.”
“You didn’t have—”
“I did.” He cut her off. “His punishment could have been worse. Some of our laws are sacred, Persephone, and before you feel guilt for what happened to Hermes’s face, remember that he knew the consequences even if you did not.”
His words felt like a reprimand. She averted her eyes and said quietly, “I didn’t know.”
Hades sighed, sounding frustrated, but he took her hand, tugging her to him.
“I’m sorry,” he said, pressing a palm against her cheek. “I meant to comfort you.”
“I know,” she said. “It must be trying…to constantly have to teach me.”
“I never tire of teaching,” he said, his voice quiet. “My frustration comes from another place.”
“Perhaps I can help…if you told me more,” she offered.
Hades held her gaze, considering before he spoke.
“I worry my words will come out wrong and that you will find my motives barbaric.”
She frowned. She was not surprised he felt this way. She’d called him the worst sort of god. She’d assumed his bargains with mortals were merely for his amusement, not real attempts at saving souls.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I think I gave you this fear when we met.”
“No,” he said. “It was there before you, but it only mattered when I met you.”
“I understand Hermes’s punishment,” she said. “I am comforted.”
Despite her words, she felt his expression remained uncertain, guarded. Still, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. She closed her eyes against his kiss, feeling the warmth of it through her body. She met his gaze as he pulled away.
“Would you like to accompany me to Council?” he asked.
Her eyes widened. “You are serious?”
He offered a small smile. “I have conditions,” he said. “But if the Olympians are to discuss us, it is only fair you are present.”
She grinned.
“Come. We must prepare,” he said, and she felt the brush of his magic as they teleported.
She’d expected to appear in their bedroom so they could dress, but instead, Hades had brought them to a room full of weapons.
“Is this…”
“An arsenal,” Hades said.
The room was round, the floor black marble like the rest of the castle. Most of the walls were fixed with what looked like bookcases, only they held a variety of weapons—blades and spears, javelins and slings, bows and arrows. There were modern weapons too—guns and grenades and other artillery. There were also shields, helmets, chain mail, and leather breastplates on display, but what drew her attention was the piece at the center
of the room—a display of Hades’s armor. It looked both threatening and deadly. Sharp metal spikes covered the shoulders, arms, and legs. A black cape hung over the left shoulder, and a dark helm rested at its feet.
Persephone approached and brushed her fingers along the cold metal of the helmet. She tried to imagine Hades dressed in this. He was already large and imposing—this would make him…monstrous.
“How long has it been?” she asked quietly. “Since you wore this?”
“A while,” he answered. “I do not need it unless I am fighting gods.”
“Or against a weapon that can kill you,” she said.
Hades did not respond. He reached around her and picked up the helm.
“This is the Helm of Darkness,” he said. “It grants its wearer the ability to become invisible. It was made for me by the cyclopes during the Titanomachy.”
She knew of the three weapons—Hades’s helm, Zeus’s lightning bolt, and Poseidon’s trident. There were always turning points during battle—a time when the tide changes for better or worse for either side. These weapons had changed fate for the Olympians and allowed them to defeat the Titans.
Seeing the helm made Persephone feel dread. She suspected Triad wished for war. Would she see Hades clad in this armor soon?
“Why do you need this helm?” she asked. “One of your powers is invisibility.”
“Invisibility is a power I gained over time as I became stronger,” he said, then he offered a wry smile. “Outside of that, I prefer to protect my head during battle.”
He thought he was funny, but Persephone frowned as he handed the helm to her. She held it between her hands, staring at the scratches and small dents upon its surface. She always imagined no one getting close enough to Hades to hurt him during battle, but the marks on this helm reminded her otherwise.
“I want you to wear this while at Council,” he said.
Persephone lifted her head. “Why?”
“Council is for Olympians,” he said. “And I am not eager to introduce you to either of my brothers, especially under these circumstances. You will not like everything that is said.”
“Are you worried my mouth will sabotage our engagement?” she asked, raising a brow.
Hades grinned, and it was refreshing considering he’d been so serious the past few days since her injuries in Club Aphrodisia.
“Oh darling, I have faith your mouth will only improve it.”
They stared at one another for a long moment before her gaze dipped, trailing over his muscles to his still erect cock.
“Are you going to Council naked, my lord? If so, I insist on watching.”
“If you keep staring at me like that, we will not go to Council at all,” he said, and with a flick of his wrist, they were both dressed in black—Hades in his suit and Persephone in a sheath dress. It made her wonder how the other gods dressed to attend Council. Would they wear the finery of ancient gods?
Hades held out his hand.
“Ready?”
Truly, she wasn’t certain, but she was comforted by Hades and his helm. This would be one of the last times she ever had time to consider if she was ready. There would come a point when there was no time, when everything depended upon quick action.
She placed her fingers into his palm, still cradling the helm, and they teleported.
They landed in shadow, her back to a large column, and when she looked to the side, she could see more curving off to the left and right. Persephone could hear voices—booming and frustrated.
“This storm must end, Zeus! My cult begs for relief.”
Persephone did not know who spoke, but she guessed it was Hestia judging by the still-gentle tone.
“I am not eager to see the storm go,” Zeus said. “The mortals have grown too bold and need to be taught a lesson. Perhaps freezing to death will remind them who rules their world.”
Persephone met Hades’s gaze. Zeus’s words were an issue. They were why Harmonia had been attacked and why Tyche had died. It was behavior mortals were growing tired of, and they were rebelling.
Hades placed his finger to his lips, took the helm from her, and placed it upon her head. She did not feel any different once it was on, except it was heavy and did not sit on her head properly. Hades’s lips brushed against her knuckles before he let her go. He moved through the darkness undetected. She only knew when he appeared before the Olympians because he spoke—his voice dark, dripping with disdain.
“You will be reminding them of nothing save their hatred for you—for all of us,” Hades said, responding to Zeus’s earlier statement.
“Hades.” His name came out as a growl from Zeus’s mouth.
Persephone crept along the outside of the columns. Beyond them, she could see the backs of a set of thrones and the fronts of three others—Poseidon, Aphrodite, and Hermes. Each throne represented a piece of the gods. For Poseidon, it was a trident, for Aphrodite, a pink shell, for Hermes, his herald’s wand.
Her gaze lingered longest on Aphrodite, recalling how she’d stood with Okeanos’s heart in her hand, unfazed by the savagery of her magic. Would she face consequences for killing one of Zeus’s sons? Persephone did not know the rules of the Olympians, but she thought the goddess must have justified herself to the God of Thunder, because she sat here among the twelve as if nothing had occurred.
Persephone crept closer until she touched the edge of one of the thrones—one she guessed belonged to Apollo, as golden rays shot out from the very top.
“From what I understand, Hades, the storm is your fault. Couldn’t keep your dick out of Demeter’s daughter.”
“Shut up, Ares,” Hermes said.
Persephone noted the darkness shadowing the god’s eyes and the set of his jaw, which made his cheekbones look sharp.
“Why should he? He speaks the truth,” a voice said from the right—Persephone thought it sounded like Artemis.
“You could have fucked a million other women, but you chose to stay with one, and the daughter of a goddess who hates you more than she loves humanity,” Ares continued.
“That pussy must be gold,” Poseidon mused.
Persephone felt something sour in the back of her throat and then a dark sense of dread as Hades’s magic flared, strong and vibrant.
“I will personally cut the thread of any god who dares to speak another word about Persephone.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Persephone recognized Hera’s voice. “The consequences of killing a god outside of the Fates’ will are dire. You could lose your dear goddess.”
A tense silence followed as Persephone tried to imagine the look upon Hades’s face. It probably communicated something along the lines of try me.
“The fact remains that the snowstorm is causing great harm.” Athena’s silky voice, calming and commanding, entered the fray.
“Then we must discuss solutions to ending her rage,” said Hades.
“Nothing will convince her to end her assault except the separation of you from her daughter,” said Hera.
While that was true, it also implied there were no other ways to end Demeter’s wrath.
“That is out of the question.”
“Does the girl even wish to be with you?” Hera challenged. “Is it not true you trapped her in a contract to force her to spend time with you?”
Persephone’s fingers rolled into fists.
“She is a woman,” Hermes said. “And she loves Hades. I have seen it.”
“So we should sacrifice the lives of thousands for the true love of two gods?” Artemis said. “Ridiculous.”
“I did not come here so that Council could discuss my love life,” Hades said.
“No, but unfortunately for you,” said Zeus, “your love life is wreaking havoc upon the world.”
“So is your dick,” Hades said. “And no one’s ever c
alled Council about that.”
“Speaking of dicks and the problems they cause,” Hermes interjected. “Is no one going to speak about the trouble your offspring are causing? Tyche is dead. Someone is attacking us…succeeding in killing us…and you want to bicker about Hades’s love life?”
Persephone couldn’t help smiling at Hermes’s words, but it didn’t take long for the other gods to steal it away.
“We’ll have nothing to worry about if Demeter’s storm continues,” said Artemis. “Mortals will be frozen to the ground. It will be Pompeii all over again.”
“You think Demeter’s wrath is the worst that could happen?” Hades asked, his tone menacing. “You do not know mine.”
It was a threat, one Persephone knew would take the conversation nowhere. Hades had asked her not to reveal herself, but the fact was, these gods were having a conversation about her—her thoughts, her feelings, her choice—and they were making no progress toward what really mattered, and that was whatever Demeter was planning with Triad. She left the spot beside Apollo’s throne and made her way around the arc. When she came to the edge—where Ares sat—she took off Hades’s helm and set it aside. Shaking off her glamour, she stepped into the center of the arc and was suddenly surrounded by eleven Olympians.
Her gaze connected with Hades’s and held. He sat rigidly, his hands curled around the edges of his throne. Beneath his gaze, she was able to straighten her shoulders and lift her chin. She had no idea how she looked to these ancient gods, probably young and inexperienced, but at least they would see her and know her and, by the end of this, respect her.
“Hades.” She spoke his name, and it seemed to calm him. She offered him a small smile before her attention was drawn to Zeus, whose voice seemed to rumble deep beneath her feet.
“Well, well, well. Demeter’s daughter.”
“I am,” she said, disliking how the God of Thunder’s eyes gleamed when they were upon her. She’d seen the king many times; an imposing and large figure, his body filled his throne. Despite being younger than his two brothers, his hair had a silver tone to it that made him look older. She did not know why—perhaps he felt it gave him more authority or he’d bargained away some of his youth in exchange for power. Beside him was Hera, who looked upon her with judgment. Her face, beautiful and noble, was carved and cynical.
A Touch of Malice Page 23