Chapter 7
Hades
Hades was bent over a mostly assembled crib trying to fit the tiniest fucking screw into the tiniest fucking hole.
He’d already dropped it three times, and his patience was wearing thin.
Hermes had been helping, who despite arguing otherwise, had small, delicate hands, but the fucker had to go and get himself exiled.
Hades had considered recalling him from Circe’s island to help but did not wish to incurred Hecate’s wrath.
She was just about as testy as he was now that night had fallen and the Kallikantzaroi were roused.
“Yes!” Hades breathed as the screw sunk in place.
Now he just needed to secure it.
He straightened, looking for the screwdriver which he’d left near the instructions, but it wasn’t there. He checked his pockets, thinking he might have slipped it in one for easier access, but they were both empty.
“Motherfucker,” he muttered.
He checked every part of the room in case it had rolled into a darkened corner, but it wasn’t there.
His face grew flush, angry and impatient, and he did the only thing he could.
He summoned a new, identical screwdriver with magic.
As ridiculous as it was, he felt like he was cheating.
He knew Persephone would not actually care how he finished assembling the crib, but he felt pressure to execute things as she wished, mostly because he saw how hard she worked without magic.
The guilt soon gave way to frustration when he returned to the crib and found the screw he’d so tediously slipped into place gone and nowhere in sight.
He took a breath, steadying the rage that vibrated beneath his skin.
Just get another screw, he told himself, but when he turned toward the remaining hardware, it was scattered and most of it was missing.
“Fucking Fates!” Hades snapped, throwing the screwdriver across the room. It hit the wall opposite him just as Persephone entered. His eyes widened and he was overwhelmed with anger at himself. What if he’d hurt her?
“Are you well?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, raking his fingers through his hair, pulling the tie that kept it out of his face.
She smiled, sad. “You don’t have to lie.”
He took another breath. “It’s just that nothing is going to plan,” he said. “I am almost finished with the crib, but everything keeps disappearing—”
He stopped abruptly, realizing the source of his distress.
The Kallikantzaroi.
“Hermes,” he growled. “I’m going to castrate that motherfucker.”
Persephone’s laugh was quiet. “As frustrating as the Kallikantzaroi are, I still miss him.”
She crossed to him and placed the palm of her hand on his cheek, thumb brushing his skin.
“I love you,” she said, quietly.
He covered her hand with his own, reveling in the warmth of her touch.
“I love you.”
She rose onto the tips of her toes, and he met her halfway, their lips brushing in a soft kiss. His chest felt tight, the claws of desire digging deep.
He almost groaned aloud from the desperation, but he’d kept it on a leash for nearly two months, refusing to indulge in the sweet relief his wife so often offered, too afraid of what it would mean for her rest and his mental state.
But then Persephone’s hand dropped to his chest, curling into his shirt as she surged forward, mouth colliding with his again.
This time he groaned, pulling her close—as close as he could, given her belly—and deepened the kiss.
“Persephone,” he breathed, pulling away, forehead resting against her own. “The babies—”
“Don’t stop,” she whispered. “Please. They will be fine. I will be fine.”
Hades closed his eyes, and in the quiet, he listened to her unsteady breaths, knowing he was too weak to resist something they both wanted.
He pulled back and took her hand, leading her down the hall to their room, the crib, missing hardware and Kallikantzaroi forgotten.
Their room was lit by nothing more than the amber fire in the hearth.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked.
“When it comes to you, I’m always sure,” she said.
Hades took a deep breath, chest tightening with her words. Persephone chose that moment to remove her robe. Beneath it, she wore a sheer, red chemise. The gossamer was tight over her breasts, heavy and full, draping softly over her round stomach.
His throat felt tight. “You are so fucking beautiful.”
He meant it.
He always meant it, but tonight the words hit him so hard, he ached with their truth.
In some ways, she had never been more beautiful.
She was his wife, she was carrying his children. She was everything he thought he would never have.
Hades pulled off his shirt and the sweatpants Hermes had gotten him last Christmas. He smirked as her eyes trailed his body, bright and appraising, lingering on his cock, full and erect, pleased that after all this time and everything they’d been through, her desire for him never ceased.
Her attention only made him even more aware of how badly he needed this—needed her, and suddenly, he couldn’t conceive that he had abstained from her this long.
He approached, and she tilted her head back, holding his gaze as his mouth collided with hers. His hand came up, cupping her face, fingers threading through her silken hair, tightening at the base of her skull. It was the roughest he could be, the most he could communicate his desperate hunger.
He kissed her harder when she took his cock in hand, jerking him up and down, thumb smoothing over the tip. He groaned, head pounding, and pulled back, observing her glassy eyes and swollen lips.
She sat on the edge of their bed, eyes never leaving his, fingers still wrapped around his cock. Then she bent and licked him from root to tip.
He took a breath and then another, as her mouth closed around him.
“God, I missed this,” he breathed.
It was a moment before Persephone released him.
“It isn’t as though I haven’t offered,” she said.
“It isn’t as though I didn’t want it,” he said.
He noticed how she swallowed before she spoke. “Sometimes…I just need to know you still want me.”
“I always want you.”
“Logically, I know that,” she said. “But sometimes I cannot stop myself from doubting. It is only because so much has changed…I have changed.”
He kneeled on the floor between her legs.
“Darling,” he said. “You have given me everything I have yearned for since the dawn of my existence. Nothing will ever change how I see you. You are the love of my eternal life.”
He bent and kissed her knee, lips trailing the inside of her thigh.
Persephone’s breath hitched, fingers sifting through his unbound hair.
She widened her legs and reclined as he neared her center, hungry for her pleasure and all that came with it—the change in her breath, her writhing body, her desperate moans.
He was at her mercy, guided by her reaction.
He licked her first and she sighed, the sound tightening his cock. It was like his touch released all the tension from her body, and now he would build it up again.
She tasted different, but delicious.
He let his tongue move gently over her soft, wet skin before he took her clit into his mouth. A choked sound left her mouth, her heels digging harder into his shoulders.
He might have paused then to ask if she was okay, but she took the opportunity to beg, “Don’t stop.”
So he didn’t. He kept that pleasing pace, licking and sucking, teasing her clit with the tip of his tongue, building within her the same fire simmering low in his belly.
She was warm, supple and wet. His cock and balls hung heavy between his thighs, aching for the same relief that spasmed through her. He felt it against his mouth, wave after wave rippling until she was still.
He rose to his full height and then stretched to kiss her, the heat radiating off their bodies an unbearable inferno.
He rested beside her, hand on her hip.
“How do you want me?”
Her laugh was breathless. “I am sure you are eager for the day when I ask that again.”
“I am in no hurry for time to pass,” Hades replied. “I am pleased to live in this moment with you.”
She gazed at him, eyes full of worship before shifting onto her side, her ass fitting against his arousal as she bent her knees and parted her legs.
He entered her slowly, waiting for a signal that he was too much or that the babies were protesting, but she craned her neck and sought his lips.
He kissed her with the same leisure with which he moved, content to remain like this for eternity.
Her body was so warm, inside and out. Heat clawed its way from somewhere deep in his stomach, soaring straight to his head.
He was dizzy with it, intoxicated. Another time he might have let the primal, possessive part of him take over, but he moved his hand to her round stomach, a constant reminder of the precious life she carried. It kept him calm, present, grounded.
He propped himself on one elbow.
“Are you well?” he asked, voice quiet.
She nodded, breathless, face flushed and glistening. He bent to kiss her, moving his hand to the apex of her thighs where he rubbed her clit.
Her mouth opened against his, a choked moan leaving her throat.
He stayed there, teasing and thrusting, consumed by the sound of her pleasure and the tautness of her body against his.
She braced herself against the bed, one palm pressed into the mattress, arching with each steady movement, moaning until she stiffened, frozen in place as she came.
She seized around him, he gave into his release.
It tore through him hard. He pressed his head against her shoulder, hand tight on her hip, as he rode each pleasurable burst until he had nothing left.
Drained, he relaxed, legs tangling with hers. Their breathing steadied and the heat between their bodies turned to chills.
Hades ran his hand over Persephone’s pebbled skin.
“We should bathe,” he said. “Then you should rest.”
“That sounds nice,” she said, voice heavy with sleep.