by Lucas, Naomi
He knew. He knew about her previous life.
The warning in his voice sent a heady, dark whisper of need through her. A whimper escaped. Her core knotted.
She bit her tongue hard and forced the sudden stiffness from her body. But it returned quickly as his hands gripped her thighs, and his fingers pressed into her skin, pulling them apart, pulling her sex open. She knew he saw her clench, knew when she sucked in her stomach, it made her hips sway, just a little.
Embarrassed and delighted, unable to take a full breath, she wiggled further with anticipation, with dangerous craving.
A long, thin, rather inhuman tongue slid across her core. Several more joined it, twisting and prodding and licking everything as an otherworldly groan filled her ears, coming from everywhere, from every direction. It was unlike anything she ever heard from Cerberus before.
Fangs, serpentine tongues, smoke, and dripping saliva filled her vision. Hundreds of eyes, hundreds of hounds, all swaying in and out of a miasma of darkness, barely visible through the single strip of visibility her skirt offered to illuminate their frightening forms and movements.
Cyane brought her fists to her mouth to muffle her moans and squeezed her eyes shut, choosing to remain hidden under the drape of her skirt.
The tongues lashed, probed, and spun as they stroked and struck her, delving into not only her sex, but her breasts and backside too. They filled her mercilessly wherever they could, taking every intimate part of her and stealing it away.
“Warm, so warm,” a deep, rumbling voice said, echoing on itself a hundred times over. She felt her sanity slip, and found the hold of the two very human hands holding her legs slightly up and apart.
His tongues circled her in waves, curling over her clit, slapping against the delicious part deep inside. A cry tore from her throat as she tried to press her legs together as every nerve ending was tormented maliciously.
She didn’t want to come, didn’t want to submit out in the open like this. But then teeth grazed her most sensitive flesh, the sensation unlike anything she knew possible.
Cyane buckled and screamed as a slurping noise filled her ears from behind, drawing out every jerk and jolt that seized her. A grunt. Then a sudden burst of frigid flesh replaced the exploring tongues, filling the space between her legs, and even as she fought to bring her legs together, to ride out the torturous waves, Cerberus’s hard and unyielding cock thrust deeper into her.
She broke apart with another buckle, his hips pressed her hard into the ground. He leaned over her and pounded into her viciously, trapping her beneath him, riding on her body’s twitching climax.
When she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, wet pressure filled her sex, full of power, and Cerberus stopped with a guttural snarl. He pushed inside her one last time, deep and hard, groaning about his veins being filled with hellfire, then lifted off her. Cyane slumped limply to the ground, breathless.
Satiated.
Proven wrong again.
Feeling blessed, honored, haunted. And, perhaps, harboring a little bit of obsessive love.
Her skirt tore back from her face, and his hand returned to help her from the ground. Shakily, she took it, and he helped her rise.
“Are you ready?” he asked, studying her again, looking like he hadn’t just fucked her soul from her body.
She licked her lips and lifted up on her toes to place a light kiss on his perfect chin. He shuddered. She dropped back down on her heels. He gripped her arms tightly.
“I’m ready now.”
Cerberus led Cyane to Hades’s chambers in silence.
He’d given her a new dress to wear. A handmaiden’s dress for the sacred event. One of sheer, pale cloth that hung open between her breasts to where a belt stopped the split. Her skirts were made of the same material with parted slits up to her thighs. Little was left to the imagination. The only true covering was her hair, which fell in waves down her back, hiding her spine’s beautiful curve from his view. The rosy hue of her nipples was visible through the front of her dress.
Cerberus cleared his throat.
He wore a simple, black himation that left his lower legs exposed. The cloth wrapped around part of his torso from his left shoulder to hang under his right arm, leaving half his chest exposed. He’d taken off the ring Cyane had given him in tribute and placed it on the table in the guardhouse, all while she watched.
His hands were to be exposed. Neither one of them wanted their secret to be as well. And unlike Cyane, whose face was there for all to see, Cerberus donned a simple mask made of twined sticks to shield his face. Queen Persephone did not know his face, and Cerberus planned to keep it that way.
Hades was pacing back and forth when they arrived, wearing a simple, black robe. He stopped and glanced their way, scowled, and returned to his pacing.
Cerberus strode towards him, leaving Cyane by the door.
The room was starkly ornamented, with only a single, large bed with overflowing blankets and pillows strewn atop it. Streaks of fire flared now and then along the obsidian walls, rising from the gleaming, cold floor. Streams of lava trailed across the ceiling like veins. Sometimes it looked like blood, sometimes it was as it should be—liquid fire.
The space was devoid of all else. No windows, no furniture, nothing. The fire, the dark walls, and the bed were all there was.
“Where is she?” Hades hissed when Cerberus neared.
“She will come, or she won’t. All we can do is wait.” Cerberus clamped a hand over Hades’s shoulder. His lord’s scowl deepened when a rustle of noise sounded. They both turned to see Queen Persephone enter the room.
Hades stepped forward, his breath hitching, muscles tensing. What little color Hades possessed on his face drained as his lips parted.
Queen Persephone wore a robe of her own, but hers was a pale yellow with embroidered narcissuses up its hem.
Amused, Cerberus wondered if he ever looked the same as Hades when it came to Cyane.
Persephone stopped in her tracks, her skin draining of all color as well, and quickly looked around. When her eyes landed on Cyane, she rushed to her friend’s side. The women huddled together near the door.
Cerberus stepped in front of Hades to keep him from storming to Persephone and throwing her into his bed. Hades’s scowl returned.
“Don’t frighten her,” Cerberus warned.
Hades swore, trying to peer over Cerberus’s shoulder; Cerberus stopped him each time.
“I take orders from no one,” Hades spat.
“You will from me tonight,” Cerberus warned again.
Hades threw his hands into the air and turned away with a growl.
Whispers and low feminine voices came from the women. Persephone appeared as anxious as Hades, her slight hands moving everywhere, as if she didn’t know what to do with them.
Cyane smiled. Cerberus’s loins tightened and expanded, taking in Cyane’s pretty, reassuring face.
If this night didn’t progress soon, it wasn’t Hades who would ruin it, but Cerberus. After all the things he witnessed during the Day of Deviance, Cerberus was eager to test them out on his mortal and discover the extent of her limits.
Cyane looked back at Persephone, and his queen straightened. The goddess turned slowly towards Cerberus and Hades and walked to the end of the bed. Cyane followed shortly after.
Hades pushed past Cerberus and stormed to stand in front of Persephone. His breaths were quick and ragged, harsh and hard. Cerberus couldn’t imagine being denied Cyane’s body for hundreds of years—seeing her but never able to love her. He pitied Hades, sick with lust of his own for Cyane even now despite taking her so harshly and desperately in the garden not long ago. He hadn’t meant to be so mean, but he couldn’t imagine her slipping away again.
Cerberus stared longingly at Cyane as the two of them stepped up behind the gods and placed their hands on their god’s shoulders.
In tense silence, in erotic strain—with the scent of arousal and flowers filling the
air—they disrobed their masters in unison, gazing nowhere else but each other, undressing one another with their eyes.
Hades dragged Persephone into his embrace and kissed her deeply.
The goddess’s innocently wanton moans filled the space.
Cerberus and Cyane stepped back as Hades lifted his queen into his arms and carried her to the bed. There he covered Persephone’s naked body with his mouth, running his lips over the curves of her flesh, reclaiming every inch of her.
Persephone—breathless and mewing—turned her head towards Cyane and reached for her. Cyane rushed to Persephone’s side. She pushed Persephone’s hair back from her face.
His queen, head tilted, asked with a hitch, “It’s Hades, right? It’s really my dear husband?”
Cyane glanced at Cerberus then down at Hades, who suckled Persephone’s breast, watching the women speak. Cerberus moved to the other side of the bed.
“It’s him, my queen,” he and Cyane said in unison.
Persephone slumped into the bedding with a satisfied moan and closed her eyes.
Hades lifted up and straddled Persephone, his large, godly cock resting on her stomach. “It will only ever be me, as it should only ever be me, forever.” His voice grave and possessive.
Persephone reached up and cupped Hades’s neck and brought him down to take his mouth.
Then, as if the eroticism and desire couldn’t be more potent, Hades rose from Persephone and turned towards his hound. Cerberus’s breath labored as his lord clasped his chin and brought Cerberus’s mouth to his for a diabolical kiss. A surge of power rushed from Hades’s lips to Cerberus’s and within it, as their tongues connected, Cerberus felt a little more powerful, a little more at ease, and a little more excited. In the kiss, his lord gifted him with something new—but what it was had yet to be seen. Hades released him, peered deep into Cerberus’s eyes, and rubbed the back of his hand across his lips.
Hades turned to Cyane, and Cerberus stiffened. His lord reached for her head, he was going to take Cyane’s lips, and a flash of fury swept through Cerberus, but so did the residual excitement and power Hades had given him. Cerberus’s hands dropped and fisted at his sides, tempering his reaction.
He didn’t like what was about to happen.
But his lord was offering them gifts, not sex. And Cerberus knew, after the jokes and the threats that Hades would never lay with Cyane for respect for him and fear of his wife.
I’m her God. Not Hades. And Cerberus vowed to make certain Cyane knew what her fealty meant.
Hades gripped her hair in his fist, pulled her to him, and kissed her. Cyane moaned and met Cerberus’s eyes, and kept them there for the duration. It went on for a little bit longer, a little bit harder, and a little bit rougher than Cerberus’s kiss.
And when Cerberus was about to tear Hades and Cyane apart, he sensed the power exchange. The gift Hades gave her was palpable. Like Cerberus’s gift, they would have to discover its dark secret.
Cerberus’s eyes slid to Persephone. She watched them with a soft smile, her glorious pale skin pinkened with rose. When Hades’s mouth left Cyane’s, she moved between him and Persephone and placed a soft kiss on Persephone’s brow.
Hades pulled Cyane’s head back—his hand still tangled in her hair—giving her a stony scowl before fully releasing her and lowering himself back over his wife.
Cerberus and Cyane’s eyes met, and Cyane rubbed her mouth with curiosity. They walked out of the room as the first rapturous moans assailed their ears. Before they’d taken a single step into the corridor, Hades’s room vanished into the darkness where it would be lost to all but Cerberus, he pulled Cyane into his arms and whisked her back to his guardhouse haven.
“Mine,” he rasped. “Hades’s death was almost assured.”
A gasp escaped her as he pulled her head back and took what Hades had stolen.
Soon Cerberus had her naked and writhing, straddling him as he lay on the floor, his hounds surrounding them on every side, giving him the audience he sought for this claiming. With her handmaiden’s dress torn down from her shoulders, her breasts peeking upward in the cold air, she rode him—and only him—filling his ears with cries and blissful screams.
He may look like Hades, but it was Cerberus Cyane mounted. Terrible, dark, immoral satisfaction filled him, and he came hard deep inside his mortal.
Tonight, two gods were born.
Tonight, they had served.
“Lovingly,” he groaned as she collapsed onto his chest as her own climax strangled his cock.
“Lovingly?” she whispered back. “Love,” she amended. Her lips formed into a smile against his flesh.
She fell asleep on him, and a rare smile tugged his lips up. He lifted her in his arms and moved her to the bed, where he covered her with his body and trapped her beneath him.
He never experienced more warmth, inside and out, never thought his existence could be so sublime—believing his servitude and his duty was the epitome of existence. Cerberus inhaled her scent and groaned. She belonged to him, she swore fealty to him, and for that, he would never let her go.
Six Months with Cerberus
It was weeks before Hades and Persephone emerged from Hades’s chambers. Weeks of quiet, euphoric bliss.
Cyane missed her friend greatly but knew Persephone would be all right without her. In that time, Cerberus took her everywhere with him, showing her the hidden secrets of the realm of the dead and all its shadowy glory. He showed her the flowers and plants her queen had created, the halls of Hecate and her loyal followers, where enchanting singing could always be heard, Menoetes’s fields of black cattle, and Pyriphlegethon, the forever burning river of fire.
But today wasn’t quiet, nor euphoric. Hades had summoned them to the throne for punishment for their crimes.
Cyane wrung white-knuckled hands into the skirts of her dress, a simple beige peplos that hung loosely to the floor. She stood alone in the atrium, waiting to be called into the ballroom.
The large doors creaked opened far too soon. The ballroom slowly appeared before her. Her eyes landed on the God of the Dead and her beautiful Goddess of Spring sitting on their thrones. Cerberus knelt before them already.
Cyane started. Hades wore the same horned helmet as he had when she’d first encountered him long ago, when he ripped Persephone from her arms.
“Come in, Cyane,” Hades’s voice bellowed through the space, hitting her like a punch to the gut.
I can do this.
Cyane straightened and took comfort in Persephone’s presence as she strode to the dais. There were other gods of the court in attendance—Hecate, Hypnos, and the three Judges of the Dead she’d met her first day here. Minos smiled at her. She wished he’d use his calming hum for her right now.
There were darker, scarier gods in attendance that she didn’t know, and her gaze roved over them quickly. If she hadn’t met them, there must’ve been a reason. Many of their faces she didn’t even recognize from the days of festivities.
Melinoe and Hermes were missing. She hadn’t seen either one since the descent—the Day of Deviance.
Cyane reached Cerberus and knelt beside him, lowering her face to the gleaming obsidian floor.
She feared, more than anything now, that Hades would split her and Cerberus apart. She couldn’t bear the thought, couldn’t swallow the lump in her throat, or inhale enough air for a sure breath. She wanted to reach out and take Cerberus’s hand but didn’t dare.
Hades spoke. “You have defied my wants and wishes, schemed to upend my plans, and coerced loyal subjects of my court to aid you in your betrayal.”
Was Hades speaking to her, to Cerberus, or to both of them? Her heart thundered.
“You, Cyane, danced with Melinoe a day too soon. You conspired not only with her, but with Hermes and Cerberus to leave without my knowledge. Not only did your choice go against my wishes, but you came back to us in an unnatural way. You are not a god, and do not have a contract in place to come and go a
s you please.”
Hades sighed audibly. It took a fair bit of willpower for Cyane to keep her eyes down. She knew of some of her transgressions, but dancing with Melinoe came as a surprise.
“Cerberus”—Hades’s voice darkened—“you ignored my commands on several occasions during the festivities. You conspired with Hermes, Melinoe, and Cyane against me and my wishes, knowing full well I granted no being allowance to leave my realm for the duration of the celebration. You assumed to know my thoughts and questioned me in front of the court. You lied to me on numerous occasions. And above all,” the tension in the ballroom built, “When I told you to enjoy yourself, I didn’t mean for you to enjoy yourself that much!” A few of the courtiers dared to giggle, but more of Hades’s long-winded sighing followed.
“Cyane, raise your eyes,” Hades ordered.
She jerked. The God of the Underworld glared down at her with annoyed solemnity. She glanced at Persephone who smiled. Cyane’s muscles eased, if only a little, knowing that her friend would not let harm come her way.
But would it shield Cerberus?
“Queen Persephone has spoken on your behalf, but that doesn’t mean you’ll not go unpunished,” Hades said. “Starting today, this hour, this very minute, you will begin your servitude to the queen. You will be her handmaid, her protector, and if need be, her shield. You will guard her with your life and your soul. And like all punishments from the gods, it is eternal.” Hades stood and languidly stepped down from the dais to stand in front of Cyane.
Hecate joined him and moved to Cyane’s side. They placed their hands upon Cyane’s head.
Power fused through Cyane, first prickling her scalp from which it shot through every nerve in her body. Her mouth parted.
Hades continued speaking as her skin began to burn, “We bestow immortality upon you and restore the gifts of your former life. If you should fail, all will be stripped away, and death will follow swiftly.”