Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
H ades
I can tell she’s struggling to believe all that I’ve presented her with today. The Underworld. The Hydra. The souls I care for within this realm as earthly kings should care for their people. To the souls within my realm, I am not simply God, King, ruler. I am father. I fight for their comforts and securities. Yes, there are those who see me only as God. Those who were so despicably evil in their earthly lives, that they’ve earned the right to see me only as the God of Death.
But there are many who see me as simply theirs.
It is how I wish for her to see me.
My eyes miss nothing as I drink her in under the spill of starlight cast by her very own magic. Now that she is here in the Underworld, the stars are once again bright. Brighter than they have been in eons. I bask under the glow, even as I mourn the still absent moons.
She is far smaller than I am, and the shirt I slipped over her body in place of the blood-stained clothing that clung to her flesh when I first brought her here, is perpetually sliding down her shoulder to rest against one thin arm. This has stretched the buttons taut over the swell of her full breasts, and I can’t say I do not enjoy the pointed tips of her nipples on display beneath the fabric.
She is trying to appear at ease, but I can see the tension in the curl of her hands around the obsidian stone railing. It’s no wonder, really. I just told her I possessed an age far beyond the capacity for her human brain to stretch.
She has been silent since.
Perhaps I should have waited for such a truth, until the Goddess I know she harbours under her human skin births a form capable of accepting such impossibilities. But I do not wish to lie to her any longer. I do not wish to protect her from this world in which she belongs.
Now that she is here in the Underworld, deceiving her with half-truths feels wrong.
Instead, I move to cage her body with my own once again. I hope to ground her but reap the rewards I always reap when she is so close. I can feel the heat of her little form through the suit I wear, and I have never wanted to shed the clothes I wear more than I do in this moment. The scent of her, floral and sweet under the throw of perpetual night, taunts me with the need to possess her. Completely.
Dropping my chin into the crook of her neck, I don’t hide the fact I am breathing her in. Under the sweet floral tones that is entirely her, I scent the rich metallic undertones that can only be blood. For once, the God under my skin does not respond with desire at the scent, but rather rage.
Shuttering my eyes, I try not to see Demeter. Try not to think how her blood spilled from her vulnerable human body as her very organs trembled, on the cusp of rupturing under Demeter’s deadly cry in the same terrible fate her friend, the reborn Adonis, had succumbed.
The image of the boy on the floor, his hands outstretched as though he’d been trying to claw his way to Persephone, my mate, even in death—it is an image that will eternally live within the cage of my mind.
Needing release from the binds of the deadly image, I let my lips slide over the warm column of her neck.
In response, she sucks in a sharp little breath.
She breathes, “Hades.”
I feel my name on her lips in the very marrow that moves inside my bones. It surges like magma on the path to destroy the centuries that yawn between us. Centuries Demeter stole from us.
I need to escape with her. Inside her.
I need to take this slow.
I swallow hard. “Will you bathe with me, Persephone?”
Pebbles of awareness and desire rise on her flesh. My gums ache as I restrain my fangs, not willing to let her see the monster under my flesh, the God who bows to her, just yet.
When she nods, it is all the answer I need to slide my hands down her arms. Curling my fingers around hers, I pull her gently from the railing. I release her fingers to circle my arm around her belly, walking us both into the dimly lit bedroom and beyond into the bathroom. It has been carved into the side of the black mountain, and like my castle, it hums with the low lullaby of ancient power.
Streams of water glitter blue as it trickles over the threads of raw blue aragonite that have been carved into the polished black stone before spilling into a modest pool also lined in raw blue aragonite, making the water appear as liquid crystal. The entire room comes alive under a high blue aragonite chandelier that holds the ancient flame fed by the Hydra’s inky blood, spilled by the eternal curse of Hercules’ charmed blade.
“Wow.” Persephone freezes in my arms, her head tipping back to take in the sight. “This is…”
Her design. I’m not sure such a truth is one to reveal just yet. “The raw blue aragonite is highly known to Greece. It is revered for its calming properties, which is why it’s been so largely infused in the bathing room.”
Her head tips to the side and back so that she can glimpse my face. “Calming?”
“The crystal encourages relaxation. It stimulates the healing of,” I pause and feel her eyes on my throat as I swallow. “Traumas.”
I’d once thought she’d used this specific crystal because of what I’d done to her. How I’d taken her. Raped her…
Guilt swells hotly inside me. I swallow the bitter burn of it.
“Oh.” She looks forward again. “Is trauma something that needs to be healed often here? In the Underworld, I mean?”
She’s asking the question in general. I answer in kind. “There are many traumas to be healed here, but most are residual pains carried over from the Earthly realm.”
“I see.” She shimmies from my arms to step deeper into the room. I watch as she dips her toes into a stream, her lips parting in delighted surprise. “It’s warm.”
I point to a smaller pool farther back in the room. It is fed exclusively by a shimmering fall of water that seems to flow from the very sky. “That is the cold pool.”
As though called to it by unquenchable curiosity, she moves to the small pool. Lowering to her knees, she dips her hand into the water and looses a little noise of shock. “That’s really cold.”
I can’t deny my smile. Watching her is enthralling. “Cold water also provides many healing benefits.”
She rises to stand again, facing me. “I think this is my favorite room yet.”
A grip squeezes my heart. As it had been so long ago.
I can’t summon a smile, but instead lift my hands to the buttons of my shirt. By the time I’ve shrugged from the material, tossing it to a bench that has been carved into the stone, her skin is flushed with the heat of need. At her side, her hands tremble just enough to let me know she is nervous now, even though I’ve had her before.
I let my hands move to the buckle of my belt, never allowing my eyes to drift from her. When my pants are tossed to join my shirt, and I am entirely naked, I can’t mistake the rapid rise and fall of her chest.
When her eyes drop to my swollen arousal, I have to fight the urge to grin as I grind my teeth instead.
“Do you need help, little goddess?” I’m only half teasing as I move to claim the distance that dares stand between us.
“I—” Her hands sweep up to the top button of the shirt. They tremble as they fumble the tiny button. Brushing her hands aside, my steady hands quickly work each button through its hole, even as I long to rip them from the thread that binds them in one fell swoop.
Through the lullaby of ancient power and rushing water, I can hear every panted breath that tumbles from her lips. The need to cover her mouth with mine, to consume every sound she makes, every breath she breathes, is agonizing to refuse.
I want to lose myself inside her.
She could never know the ways I burn for her. The need I feel for her.
The shirt falls open to expose the valley between her breasts, and creamy skin. Her belly quivers under my gaze, and I nearly fall to my knees as the ache to bury my face in her belly hits me. I want to gather her in my arms and hold her close—too close. Hard—too hard.
I’d come so close to losing her again. This time, possibly, forever.
Emotion burns the backs of my eyes as I shutter the evidence of my weakness from her prying emerald eyes. If there is one thing that makes me weak, it is this tiny woman who holds a Goddesses soul.
She moves and I am hit with a wave of her sweet floral scent. Her palm cups my face. “Hades?”
I pull in a breath that tastes of her .
“Are you okay?” she presses, her hand moving around to the back of my neck even as my hands lift to push beneath the fabric of my shirt she wears to hold the dip of her little waist. To hold her away from me while I gather myself. If she presses her body to mine now, I’m liable to ravage her.
I release a long exhale as we stand together, pulling close just as we pull away. A contradiction. A mess.
I admit, “I nearly lost you.”
She is quiet for a long moment as I simply breathe in the scent of her. Although my eyes are closed, I can feel the sweeping heat of her eyes on my face. Already, the bright shine is giving way for the malachite veins that color her emerald irises under the shadow of the Underworld.
She finally speaks. “I don’t know—I don’t remember what happened.”
I loose a breath. “I know.”
“Will you tell me?”
I open my eyes. “Not tonight.” When her brows knit, I beg, “Can we have tonight, Persephone? I want—I need tonight—to lose myself with you. In you.” Her frown remains even as her eyes soften. “Please?”
“Anything, Hades. I’ll give you anything.”
“Say yes, Persephone,” I plead.
She breathes, “Yes.”
I shove the shirt from her body, not caring as it falls in a pool at her feet. Her legs wrap around my waist as I lift her into my arms, and before I’ve even entered the pool, I’ve entered her body.
She moans. I thrust. And she clings to me.
I am home.
Home.