Chapter 32 - Ophelia
Ophelia
I wake up wrapped in shadows and warmth.
Hades's arms are around me, his chest pressed against my back, his breath steady against my neck. For a moment, I just lie there, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing, the solid reality of him.
He's alive.
We're alive.
The memories are still there, hovering at the edges of my consciousness. Persephone's memories. My memories. Two lifetimes tangled together like vines, and I'm still trying to figure out where one ends and the other begins.
It's really fucking confusing.
But right now, I don't want to think about my screwed up mind. Instead, I want to enjoy the warmth of Hades's skin, and the intensity of his shadows.
"Hi," I whisper, as I turn to see him staring at me.
"Good morning." His voice is rough with sleep. "How do you feel?" His fingers press a stray piece of hair behind my ear, and he takes the opportunity to ghost his skin against my cheek.
"Alive." I press my hand against his chest, feeling his heartbeat strong and steady beneath my palm. "You're alive."
"Thanks to you."
I lean up and kiss him. Our lips press together, and it starts gentle. Tender. A reassurance that we're both here, both whole.
It doesn't take long to change.
Hades's hand slides into my hair, gripping it hard enough to cause my scalp to sting, and I gasp against his mouth at the sensation. The kiss deepens, becomes desperate. Hungry. We're alive and we almost weren't, and I need to feel him, need to confirm that this is real.
There's a bunch of shit between us, but right now it doesn't matter. We both need this.
Hades rolls me onto my back, his weight pressing me into the mattress, and the feel of his body, hard and solid, grounds me. His hands on my skin, his mouth trailing down my throat, his body covering mine.
It's perfection.
"Ophelia," he breathes against my collarbone.
The name makes me flinch.
Not because I don't want him to say it, but because I don't know if it's mine anymore. I'm not just Ophelia. I'm not just Persephone. I'm something in between, something new, and I don't have a name for what I am.
But I push the thought away.
Later. I'll figure it out later.
Right now, I just want to feel this.
Hades's hands slide under my shirt, and I arch into his touch. My own hands find the waistband of his boxers, tugging, needing less between us.
"Are you sure?" he asks, pulling back just enough to look at me. "You were unconscious for hours. If you need to rest—"
"I need you." I pull him back down. "Now. Please."
That's all the permission he needs.
Clothes disappear, torn off, thrown aside, forgotten. His mouth finds mine again as his hand slides between my thighs, and I'm already wet, already aching for him.
"Gods," he groans. "You're—"
"Alive," I finish. I reach up, sinking my teeth into his bottom lip, pulling at it slightly as I let go. "Now fuck me."
He does.
There's nothing gentle about it. Nothing slow. We come together with desperate intensity, all heat and need and the primal urge to affirm that we survived. That we're here, together, whole.
He thrusts into me over and over again, bringing me to the precipice of pleasure but not quite allowing me to reach the pinnacle.
"Hades," I cry out, clenching around him. He's not unaffected. I can see a small bead of sweat forming on his forehead, and I know he's struggling to control himself against my inner muscles. "Please."
"Patience," he orders.
But I'm not in the mood. I reach for the life of the plant next to me. The vines wrap themselves around him, flipping him off me and onto his back.
His laugh turns to a groan as I sink myself onto him. I'm relentless as I ride him.
I lose myself in it. In him. In the feeling of being claimed and cherished and utterly consumed.
It doesn't take long before my orgasm rips through me, hot and heavy, and I scream my pleasure as I drag my nails across his chest. I feel the hot spurt of him inside my body, and it somehow causes my orgasm to extend: longer and harder.
I collapse on top of him, my vines retreating, totally breathless and spent. Yet I feel more grounded than I have since waking up. My body is mine. His body is real. This moment is ours.
"I love you," he says against my hair. "Gods, I fucking love you." He flips me over, soft inside my body, but still connected.
"I love you too." I sink my nails into his shoulders. "So much."
And I do. Whether I'm Ophelia or Persephone or something else entirely, that truth remains constant.
By the time we make it to breakfast, we've fucked again, showered, and I feel a sort of giddiness at the idea that this is all over. That we can move on however we want.
I know I'm avoiding the fallout, but I don't care. I want to pretend. At least for a while.
Not that Hades is allowing it.
"Ophelia, we should talk," Hades says, as I lick chocolate from his lips.
"I don't want to talk yet," I say, pressing my body against his. "I want to fuck."
He pulls back slowly, groaning. "Zeus—"
I freeze. The mention of Zeus feels like being dunked in a frozen lake. It's jarring.
"Nothing happened," I say, ignoring the memory of Zeus ripping my shirt open.
It wasn't him. I remind myself. Not that that does much.
Zeus might be a victim, but the mention of his name reminds me of what happened, of his hands on my body, and I feel the berries I consumed trying to climb back up my throat.
"Ophelia—"
I shake my head, pressing my body against his. "I want to just enjoy the moment," I say. "To forget."
I need Hades to touch me, to fuck me, to imprint himself on me until I remember nothing else.
His tongue tangles with mine, and I feel myself growing wet with desire.
The illusion shatters when Thanatos appears in the living room.
"Dude," he says, looking at Hades with an expression I can't quite read. "Do you need to do this in the kitchen? I eat here."
Hades and I jump apart.
"Fuck," Hades says, shielding me. "Can you fucking knock?"
Thanatos glances at me and rolls his eyes. "I'd love to not be subjected to what I just witnessed. However, we need to talk."
"Later," Hades growls.
Thanatos shakes his head. "Hecate and Athena filled me in," he says carefully, ignoring Hades's growl. "About everything. Nice to know I won't be King of the Underworld." He glowers. "Would have been nice if you told me you died for a bit there."
Hades rolls his eyes. "It was barely a blip."
Thanatos nods, but I can see the grief in his eyes. It's a reminder that Hades's death would not have just hurt me. For some reason, the knowledge that others care for him so deeply adds warmth to my chest.
"Well, things are a fucking mess, so I'm gonna need your full attention." Thanatos moves closer.
Hades immediately shifts from husband to King.
"Explain," Hades barks.
"The Underworld is restless. Souls are acting strange. And there are rumors—"
"Not here." Hades stands, all business now. "We don't know who could be listening."
"You mean me?" I snap.
"No," he concedes. "You need to hear this as much as anyone. We simply need better security."
Thanatos's brow raises, but he nods. "Where?"
"Erebus. One hour. Gather everyone," Hades orders.
Thanatos nods and glances over at me. "Can I leave you two alone, or do you need a chaperone?"
I laugh, appreciating Thanatos for breaking the tension. Hades tells him to fuck off, and Thanatos laughs as he walks out.
Hades turns to me, the easiness of our morning gone. "You don't have to come if you're not ready—"
"I'm coming." I stand too, brushing croissant flakes from my hands. "I'm part of this now. Whether I like it or not, and I have no plans to be kept in the dark."
Hades sighs. "I feared you'd say that."
I press my hands to his cheeks. "I can take care of myself, Hades. Don't forget that."
His eyes darken, and I know he wants to argue. I appreciate that he doesn't.
Everyone has gathered in a private conference room overlooking the Strip. The sound of the casino can't be heard from here, which is impressive.
The gods from the temple, Zeus, Poseidon, Athena, Hecate, Aphrodite, have all gathered. Hecate, Athena, and Aphrodite greet me with kisses and smiles. Poseidon makes a snarky comment that makes me laugh, and Zeus, thankfully, keeps his distance.
Hermes, who I heard was working with Demeter, is conspicuously absent.
"He ran," Athena says when I ask. "After he got shot helping us. Coward probably figured we'd kill him anyway."
"We should have," Poseidon mutters.
I take a seat next to Hades, trying to ignore the way everyone keeps glancing at me. Like I'm a bomb that might go off. Like they're not sure if I'm ally or threat.
To be fair, I'm not sure either.
"Let's get to it," Zeus says, taking charge like he always does.
He won't look my way, and I suspect he's as uncomfortable with my presence as I am with his.
Every time I catch sight of him, every muscle tenses, as if they instinctively remember how desperate I was to stop him.
I appreciate his effort to give me space, even if it's useless.
Aphrodite looks better than she did last night. The blood is gone, her face is healed, but there's something haunted in her eyes that wasn't there before. This left a mark on her. One that might never go away.
"Since Ophelia decided to destroy our lead—"
"Valid, considering she was trying to kill me," I interject.
Zeus continues without looking at me. "Aphrodite is our best bet for information."
Aphrodite nods. "I don't know much," she says quietly. "Demeter kept most of her plans close. But I know Cronus has been released. He was working with her. Helping her."
Silence.
Then Poseidon laughs, sharp and bitter. He leans his head back, closing his eyes. "Daddy's home. Fantastic."
"This isn't funny," Athena snaps. "Cronus is powerful, and able to block our power."
"It's hilarious." But Poseidon's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "The father who tried to eat us is free. What could go wrong?"