A Touch of Malice

by Scarlett St. Clair

  The God of Death did not speak, so Persephone added something she knew all too well. “Sometimes, it is hard to explain our actions when they are guided by our hearts.”

  “She will reincarnate one day,” Thanatos said.

  “And?”

  “She will not remember me.”

  “I do not understand what you are trying to say.”

  “I am saying that she and I—we cannot be.”

  Persephone’s brows knitted together. “You would deprive yourself of a moment of happiness?”

  “To escape a lifetime of pain? Yes.”

  Persephone did not say anything for a long moment.

  “Does she know of the decision you have made?”

  Thanatos did not seem to like that question, because he pressed his lips into a hard line.

  “You should at least tell her,” Persephone said. “Because while you are choosing to escape pain, she is living in it.”

  Once her dance with Thanatos ended, she wandered beyond the courtyard, needing rest and distance from the crowd, into the garden where large roses bloomed, emitting a sweet scent. Ahead of her, Cerberus, Typhon, and Orthrus wandered, noses to the ground. She was surprised when she noted the familiar silhouette of her husband ahead of her. He stood with his hands in his pockets, staring up at the sky.

  After a moment, he turned, his eyes glittering.

  “Are you well?” he asked.

  “I am,” she replied.

  “Are you ready?”

  “I am.”

  He held out his hand, and as she pressed her fingers into his palm, they vanished.

  * * *

  Persephone wasn’t sure what to expect when they teleported—a room warmly lit by firelight, perhaps a return to the island of Lampri. Instead, she found herself standing upon a platform with a large bed that was open to the sky. Overhead were clouds of clustered stars in colors of orange and blue and white. They were also reflected in the pool of dark water that surrounded them. It was as if they were floating in the sky itself.

  “Are we…in the middle of a lake?” Persephone asked.

  “Yes,” Hades answered.

  Persephone stared. “Is this your magic?”

  “It is,” he said. “Do you like it?”

  “It is beautiful,” she said. “But where are we, really?”

  “We are in the Underworld,” he said. “In a space I made.”

  “How long have you planned this?”

  “I have thought about it for a while,” he replied.

  Persephone approached the bed and smoothed her hand over the soft silk sheets before looking at Hades over her shoulder.

  “Help me out of my dress,” she said.

  Hades approached and drew the zipper of her gown down until it hit her lower back. His hands skimmed along her spine and across her shoulders, dipping beneath the thin straps. The fabric whispered over her skin as it puddled to the floor.

  Beneath her dress she wore nothing, and Hades’s hands went to her breasts, his mouth to hers. He kissed her with a slow hunger that curled into the bottom of her stomach.

  When he pulled away, he drew something from his pocket—a small, black box.

  “These are Chains of Truth,” Hades said. “They are a powerful weapon against any god unless they have the password. I am telling you that password now so that if you begin to feel afraid, you can release yourself from their grasp. Eleftherose ton—say it.”

  “Eleftherose ton,” she repeated.

  “Perfect.”

  “Why are they called Chains of Truth?” she asked because she thought she could guess, and Hades’s smile confirmed her suspicions.

  “The only truth they shall draw from your lips is your pleasure. Lie down.”

  Persephone did as he instructed. Hades followed, straddling her body, his clothes scraping against her skin, sensitive with need.

  “Spread your arms,” he said.

  He placed the box above her head, and in the next second, her wrists were restrained with heavy chains.

  “Forgive me, my darling,” Hades said as he touched each cuff, turning them into soft bindings.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “For you?” she asked. “Always.”

  “Always,” Hades repeated.

  He sat back on his heels, still straddling her, and loosened his tie, then his cuff links before making his way to the buttons of his shirt.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  “I want you to move faster.” The words were out of Persephone’s mouth before she even had time to think. Her eyes widened, and then she remembered that the restraints around her wrists would pull the truth from her mouth. She narrowed her eyes. “Is there any chance you get to wear these?”

  Hades chuckled. “If that is what you want,” he said as he pulled off his shirt and cast it aside. “But you do not need chains to draw the truth from me, especially when it comes to what I plan to do to you.”

  “I’d rather not hear your plans,” Persephone said, her eyes roving hungrily over his muscled chest.

  “What do you want, wife?”

  “Action,” she said, wiggling beneath him. If she could, she would reach for him, but her wrists strained against the bindings.

  Hades chuckled and then pressed a kiss between her breasts. She rose against his touch, her legs twined around his; she wanted the friction of his body against hers. But Hades continued, trailing his lips down her stomach as he untangled himself from her grasp. She let him go and allowed her legs to fall open, shameless, ready, desperate. Hades stared at her hungrily before hooking his arms beneath her hips, lifting her ass, and licking her slick folds.

  A low growl came from somewhere deep in his chest.

  “This. I love this.”

  He descended, tongue parting her and teasing her clit. He spread her wider so he could go deeper, and soon his fingers were inside her, curling. Persephone’s heels dug into the bed, her fingers twined around the chains, and her head pressed hard into the pillow beneath her. She felt so wound up, so tight, so flushed, then Hades’s warm mouth closed over her clit, and he sucked—it was gentle and followed by slow circling. Her breath caught on a loud moan, and Hades pulled away, his fingers still working inside her.

  “That’s it, darling. Tell me how it feels.”

  “It’s good. So good.”

  She managed to look at him, perspiration building across his forehead, eyes lustful and gleaming. Then his mouth closed over her clit again, tongue vibrating against it. Her head fell back as she moaned. His pace was consistent, and the pressure built and twisted until her limbs shook with release.

  Hades pressed kisses to the inside of her thighs, back up her stomach, her breasts, her neck before finding his way to her lips. He kissed her before standing.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Not far, wife,” Hades promised as he stepped out of his slacks. Her eyes scanned every part of his body. He was huge and imposing, the muscles of his arms, abs, and legs cut and conditioned—his body a tool and weapon. Her gaze caught on his swollen cock and heavy balls.

  “Tell me your thoughts,” he said.

  Persephone shuddered as the words came from her mouth. “It doesn’t matter how often you are inside me. I can’t…it’s not enough.”

  Hades chuckled and climbed on top of her again, settling between her legs. He pressed his body flush against hers.

  “I love you,” he said.

  “I love you.”

  She’d said the words so often and meant them deeply, but this time, they brought tears to her eyes. Tonight, they hit differently. Tonight, she felt as though she understood love in a way she never had before—it was wild and free, passionate and desperate. It encompassed every emotion in its attempt to make sense of a world that
challenged it.

  “Are you well?” Hades asked, his voice a rough whisper.

  Persephone nodded. “Yes. I am just thinking of how much I truly love you.”

  Hades’s expression intensified, his gaze stripping away every layer of her soul, and then he kissed her before lifting himself and guiding his head against her opening. She pressed her heels into his ass in an attempt to push him inside, but he resisted, chuckling, only to lift her legs so that they were propped against his shoulders, sliding inside her as his eyes held hers, hungry and carnal.

  Persephone gasped—a guttural sound that scraped against her throat. Her fingers curled into fists, the bindings cutting into her wrists. The pleasure of his thrusts was deep and lush, each stroke unearthing a moan, a sigh, a wave of pleasure.

  “You feel so good,” Hades said through his teeth, his face glistening, his long hair coming loose from its binds as he moved. “So tight, so wet. Eleftherose ton!” he commanded, and her restraints were suddenly gone. He released her legs and let them fall around him. Their mouths collided in a hot kiss, and Persephone’s hands combed through his hair until it fell down around his shoulders.

  “Fuck!”

  His curse shivered through her, and then he left her body completely, and she made an animalistic sound. She reached for him as he sat back and pulled her into his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist. Then he was inside her again and she moved against him. Every sensation was delicious—the way her muscles gripped him, the way her nipples grazed his chest, the light scrape of his hair on her clit. Their lips collided awkwardly as Hades began to help her along his length, moving faster the closer he came to release until he emptied himself inside her.

  After, their breaths were heavy, their bodies slick. Hades fell back against the bed with Persephone in his arms. She felt dazed and boneless and so happy, she began to laugh.

  “I will refrain from thinking you are laughing at my performance, wife,” Hades said.

  That made her laugh harder.

  “No,” she said, lifting herself so she could look at him.

  His face was free of tension, and his smile seemed so easy, a lazy curve of his lips that was only for her. She reached to brush her fingers along his brow and cheek. Then she rested her head against his chest and said, “You were everything.”

  Hades rolled so that they were on their sides, facing each other, their legs tangled.

  “You are my everything,” he said. “My first love, my wife, the first and last Queen of the Underworld.”

  The words struck her, each one a part of her identity—an identity she had created from the ashes of her past. It was beautiful and breathtaking.

  Her heavy eyes closed with those words on repeat: Goddess. Wife. Queen.

  Chapter XXXIII

  Abducted and Unmasked

  When Persephone woke, Hades’s body was pressed tight against hers.

  She smiled, blissful, and stretched, her ass pressing into Hades’s cock. The god’s arm tightened around her waist.

  “Are you asking?” he murmured, his voice sleepy.

  She twisted in his arms and threw her leg over his hip, hand going to his cock. She didn’t wait for foreplay—she dove in, feeling reckless, warm, ready. Hades groaned; the position kept him from thrusting. Instead, they ground into one another, kissing languidly and breathing heavily. The longer they were joined, the more desperate their movements became, and Persephone’s eyes fluttered closed.

  “I want to watch you come,” Hades said, and she opened her eyes. Their gazes held until she found release and he followed.

  After, they rose and went about getting ready for their day as if nothing had changed, as if she weren’t Hades’s wife, the Queen of the Underworld. It was strange to feel much the same and yet different.

  “You’re quiet,” Hades said. He stood, fully dressed, near the fireplace, a glass of whiskey in his hand, watching her roll her thick stockings up her thigh. She lifted her gaze to his.

  “I am just thinking of how surreal this is,” she said. “I am your wife.”

  Hades took a sip from his drink and then set it aside, approaching her to cup her face.

  “It is surreal,” he said.

  “What are you thinking?” she countered.

  For a beat, Hades was quiet, and then he spoke.

  “That I will do anything to keep you,” he answered.

  With his words, a cold reality settled on her.

  “You are thinking Zeus will try to separate us?”

  “Yes,” he said without hesitation, and then he tipped her head back so she would look into his eyes. “But you are mine and I intend to keep you forever.”

  She had no doubt that was what Hades intended, but his words left something dark upon her heart. She thought of the oracle’s words—short, simple—a powerful union—a marriage that will produce a god more powerful than Zeus himself. Persephone knew how Zeus handled prophecies that predicted his downfall—he eliminated the threat.

  “Why do you think he let us leave?” Persephone asked.

  “Because of who I am,” Hades said. “Challenging me is not like challenging another god. I am one of the Three—our power is equal. He will have to take time deciding how to punish me.”

  Again, Persephone felt dread.

  Hades pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Do not worry, my darling. All will be well.”

  “Eventually,” she said, smiling wryly.

  Her mother’s storm still raged, and now she wondered how much worse it would get once word got out that she and Hades had wed.

  “Shall I take you to work?” Hades asked.

  “No,” she said. “I am going to breakfast with Sybil.”

  Hades raised his brows. “Will you tell her that we are married?”

  “Can I?”

  Persephone wasn’t sure how or if they would tell anyone outside of those who had been in attendance. Still, it seemed wrong not to tell Sybil who had known of their connection from the beginning.

  “Sybil is trustworthy,” Hades said. “It is her greatest attribute.”

  “She will be ecstatic,” Persephone said, grinning.

  They teleported outside Nevernight, where Antoni was already waiting, the car warm, the heat from the exhaust turning to thick smoke as it met the icy morning. Antoni stood outside the back passenger door, hands crossed in front of him.

  “Good morning, my lord, my lady,” Antoni said, smiling, his kind eyes crinkling.

  “Good morning!” Persephone said, smiling wide.

  “I shall see you tonight, my wife,” Hades said and drew her in for a kiss. Then he reached for the door and helped her into the cabin.

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  “I love you,” he said and shut the door.

  Antoni squeezed into the driver’s seat.

  “Where to, my lady?” he asked, looking into the rearview mirror.

  “Ambrosia & Nectar.”

  “Of course. One of my favorites,” he said as he put the car into drive and started down the street. “I believe congratulations are in order. The wedding was beautiful.”

  She couldn’t help blushing. “Thank you, Antoni. I am still floating.”

  “We are very pleased,” he said. “We have waited a long while for this day.”

  From the beginning, those who admired Hades had been deeply invested in his happiness—and the fact that she was part of that happiness made her chest blossom with pride.

  He’d chosen her, and he would continue to choose her.

  Even if the Fates unraveled our destiny, I would find a way back to you.

  Those words filled her heart, made it beat—a truth no one could deny.

  It did not take long to arrive at Ambrosia & Nectar. It was a small modern restaurant, built with salvaged blocks of marble. An
toni helped her out of the car and walked the few steps to hold the door open for her.

  “Thank you, Antoni.”

  “Of course…my queen.”

  They grinned at one another before she entered the café.

  Inside, the space was cozy with warm lighting, wood tones, and soft seating. When she was settled, she ordered a coffee and pulled out her phone to text Sybil that she had arrived.

  While she waited, she took out her tablet and began to read through the morning news, starting with New Athens News. She was already anxious at the thought of what might feature on the front page, given the last two articles Helen had written, but she did not expect what she saw today.

  GODDESS PLAYING MORTAL: THE TRUTH OF PERSEPHONE ROSI

  Persephone drew in a shaky breath, and her heart hammered painfully as she read.

  For four years, Persephone Rosi posed as a college student, journalist, and entrepreneur. She claimed to be dedicated to the truth, outing the Divine for their injustices, a mortal suffering just as the rest of us, but the reality is, she is none of these things—not even mortal.

  Persephone is a goddess, born of Demeter, the Goddess of Harvest.

  The article continued, claiming to have begun the investigation by asking the question, would Hades really marry a mortal? Beyond that, they attacked her work.

  She accused Hades of deception, but over the course of her articles, she fell in love with the God of the Dead. She wrote of Apollo’s harassment of women, but when public outrage became too much, she fell silent. Now she is often seen out and about with the God of Music. Persephone’s attempts at outing the gods seem to have been nothing more than a way for a minor god to reach the rank of an Olympian.

  The last line ignited a fine rage inside her, mostly because she knew this was Helen’s truth—she was the one searching for a way to rise, and she’d chosen the wrong side.

  Persephone looked up and noticed people staring. She started to feel uncomfortable and checked the time. Sybil was almost fifteen minutes late, and she hadn’t responded to Persephone’s text. Both were unlike her.

  She texted again: You okay?

  Then she called, and her phone went straight to voicemail.