The lights dimmed, and a screen lowered, playing a short video about the project. Hades was not sentimental, but this was a project that felt like his whole heart. Maybe that was because it was inspired by Persephone, or that he had been heavily involved in the design of the building, choosing the technology, and the services the facility would provide. Each time Katerina, the director of his foundation, would ask him questions, he answered them thinking of Persephone. It was his hope that she would be proud of this, that she would see how much her words meant to him.
Hades made his way on stage in the dark, and when the lights came up, he stood before a crowd that cheered at the sight of him. As they quieted, he spoke.
“Days ago, an article was published in New Athens News. It was a scathing critique of my performance as a god, but among those angry words were suggestions on how I could be better. I don’t imagine the woman who wrote it expected me to take those ideas to heart, but in spending time with her, I started to see things her way.” He smirked, chuckling, thinking of how fierce she could be when defending mortals. “I’ve never met anyone who was so passionate about how I was wrong, so I took her advice and initiated The Halcyon Project. As you move though the exhibit, it is my hope that Halcyon will serve as a flame in the dark for the lost.”
Gods and mortals alike shot to their feet, clapping, and Hades retreated, uncomfortable with the spotlight. He wanted to dematerialize into darkness for the rest of the evening, but he also wanted to know what Persephone thought of the project. He stood aside as a line of people made their way into the exhibit, eyes catching Aphrodite’s, who glared at him, probably having not forgiven him for the threat he had leveled at Adonis.
He averted his gaze and searched for Persephone, finding her at her table. He recognized the look on her face, as he had seen it the first time she had arrived at Nevernight.
She was hesitating.
She did not approach until almost everyone had gone inside, and as she did, Hades followed, calling up his glamour to walk beside her. It felt intrusive to observe her this way, but also intimate, and he marveled at the serene expression on her face as she took her time wandering through the exhibit, stopping at each poster to look at concept drawings of the building and gardens, statistics about the current state of addiction and mental health in New Greece, and how those numbers had only increased since The Great War.
She lingered the longest at a 3D printed model of the actual building and expansive grounds, full of trees and gardens and secret pathways. He thought about approaching her, but there was something beautiful about the look on her face—something contemplative and gentle—and he did not want to disturb her, so he left.
Outside the exhibit, Hades found his brother, Zeus. The God of Thunder grinned, looking more like the ancient King of the Gods than the modern man he usually attempted to embody, standing half-dressed beside Hera.
“Well played, brother.” He clapped Hades on the back, and the god curled his fingers into a fist to keep from punching him. “You have the entire world swooning over your compassion.”
“Well done,” Hera said, sounding bored. She met Hades’ eyes only briefly before craning her neck, looking elsewhere across the room, her arm still looped through her husband’s.
“What are you talking about, Zeus?” Hades asked.
“The mortal!” he cried. “Using her slander to your advantage. Genius, really.”
Hades glared. He had not seen this as an opportunity to make himself look better and he hated that his brother was corrupting his intentions, but it was not surprising.
“I desire no such praise or attention,” Hades said. Persephone had valid points, and he listened.
“Of course you didn’t,” Zeus quipped, nudging Hades in the side, as if they were sharing some sort of secret. “I must admit, I kept my expectations low when I heard the Gala would be themed after your realm, but this…this is nice.”
“What praise,” Hades commented blandly. “If you’ll excuse me, I need a drink.”
Hades sidestepped his brother and Hera, and headed straight for the bar. He ordered a whiskey and downed it quickly, wondering how much longer he needed to stay here. It was not as if these people came for him or even the charity. It was about the fashion, the drinking, the dancing, the fun, except this was not Hades’ idea of fun. He had wanted to spend the night between Persephone’s legs, giving and receiving pleasure.
At that thought, he turned, and found the object of his scandalous thoughts a few steps away. His eyes were immediately drawn to her bare back, and he thought of how she had arched against him in the pool, desperate for pleasure. He approached, and he knew she felt him because she straightened and turned her head so that he could see the side of her face—delicate nose and pretty lips.
“Anything to critique, Lady Persephone?” he asked.
“No,” she said quietly, thoughtfully. “How long have you been planning The Halcyon Project?”
“Not long.”
“It will be beautiful.”
He leaned close, fingers skimming her shoulder, tracing the edges of the black appliqué that snaked down her back. She was warm, her skin soft, and she shivered each time they touched skin to skin.
“A touch of darkness,” he murmured, fingers trailing down the inside of her arm until they tangled with her own. “Dance with me.”
She turned to face him, head tilted so that their gazes met. He could see clear to her bright soul, and his darkness was drawn to it.
“All right.”
He drew her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles before leading her to the floor. He pulled her close, their hips touching, and he growled low in his throat. His cock grew taut, reminding him of the baths and how much he wanted to be inside her. He wondered what sort of headlines would splash across the media if he kissed her now and took her to the Underworld.
Hades abducts Persephone, he thought, fingers tightening around hers and her hip as he guided her through a dance, their gazes unwavering, the heat between them building, an inferno that became as cold as ice when she spoke.
“You should be dancing with Minthe.”
He gritted his teeth. “Would you prefer that I dance with her?”
“She’s your date.”
“She is not my date.” He had to work to control his frustration. “She is my assistant, as I have told you.”
“Your assistant doesn’t arrive on your arm to a gala.”
He recognized Hecate’s words as she spoke and seethed.
“You are jealous,” Hades said, smirking.
“I’m not jealous!” Her eyes flashed. “I will not be used, Hades.”
He frowned. “When have I used you?”
She stayed silent, her frustration palpable.
“Answer, goddess.”
“Have you slept with her?”
He froze, and so did everyone else who shared the floor.
“It sounds like you are requesting a game, goddess.”
“You want to play a game?” She jerked her hands away from his. “Now?”
It was the only way he would answer her question, and she knew it. He held out his hand for her to take, eyes alight, begging her to reestablish their connection.
Come with me to the Underworld, he thought. You will not come back the same.
He knew when she had made her decision, because her gaze became fierce and determined—she would have what she wanted. Then, her fingers curled into his, and he smiled, teleporting to the Underworld.
CHAPTER XX – A GAME OF PASSION
Hades appeared in his office, hand still twined with Persephone’s. His body was tight with anticipation, and his mind whirled with the possibilities of this night. Why had she been so eager to know about his relationship with Minthe? If he answered, would she succumb to him?
They stared at one another for a moment, and Hades released her hand, fingers trailing her palm. He reached to untie her mask. The movement felt intimate but right, and he had never felt so much longing. It curled in the bottom of his stomach and made his throat feel tight.
“Wine?” he asked as he approached the bar, removing his own cumbersome mask.
“Please.” She spoke quietly, and his chest felt heavy as he imagined that word poised upon her tongue as she begged him to fill her.
He poured her a glass and slid it toward her. She took it, her graceful fingers curling around the stem as she sipped. Hades watched her a moment, distracted by her mouth and the way her tongue snuck out to moisten her lips. Her gaze burned his skin, eyes starved.
“Hungry?” he asked. “You barely ate at the gala.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You were watching me?”
“Darling, don’t pretend you weren’t watching me. I know your gaze upon me like I know the weight of my horns.”
She averted her eyes, blushing. “No, I’m not hungry.”
Pity, he thought, pouring himself a glass of whiskey.
They found themselves on opposite ends of a table before the fireplace, a deck of cards sat at the center.
“The game?” she asked as Hades reached for the cards.
“Poker,” he replied, opening the box and shuffling the cards.
She took a breath. “The stakes?”
At her question, the air thickened, and Hades offered a smile. “My favorite part. Tell me what you want.”
“If I win, you answer my questions.”
He knew it was the bet she would make.
“Deal,” he said as he finished shuffling the cards. “If I win, I want your clothes.”
If she was shocked, she did not show it. “You want to undress me?”
“Darling, that’s only the start of what I want to do to you.”
Had he imagined the quirk of her lips? “Is one win equal to a piece of clothing?”
“Yes,” he said, eyeing her dress—that glorious piece of satin fabric. He hoped it was the only thing she wore. Then her hand drew his attention, brushing the chain of her necklace where it dipped between her breasts.
“And…what about jewelry? Do you consider that undressing?”
He sipped his drink. “That depends.”
“On?”
“I might decide I want to fuck you with that crown on.”
There was no guessing at her smirk now; it curved across her beautiful face, full of mischief. “No one said anything about fucking, Lord Hades.”
“No? Pity.”
She leaned over the table, offering him a full view of her breasts. He groaned inwardly. “I’ll accept your bargain.”
His brows rose. “Confident in your ability to win?”
“I’m not afraid of you, Hades.”
Never, he thought. He would never want her to fear him, even in his darkest moments. The problem was, she had never seen him that way—angry and aggressive and violent. The truth of that statement remained to be seen.
Persephone shivered.
“Cold?” he asked, dealing the first hand.
“Hot,” she rasped and smiled, eyes full of passion.
Hades laid his cards down—a pair of kings.
It was the set of her lips that told him she had lost, and he had confirmation when she laid her cards down. He smiled, and lust ran through his veins, straight to his cock. He assessed her, taking his time scanning her body, deciding what he would take.
“I suppose I will have the necklace.”
When she reached to unfasten it, he stopped her. “No, let me.”
She dropped her hands into her lap as Hades approached. His fingers tingled as he gathered her thick hair in his hands, sweeping it over her shoulder. He unclasped the chain, letting the metal fall between her breasts, liking the way she inhaled as he kissed along her collarbone.
“Still hot?” he asked against her skin.
“An inferno.”
He could practically smell her sex.
“I could free you from this hell.” His lips trailed up the column of her neck.
“We’re just getting started,” she whispered.
His disappointment was heavy, and yet not as burdensome as the pressure building in his cock. He managed a laugh and pulled away, ready for another hand, already thinking of what he would request next.
Except that Persephone won.
She smirked as she placed the cards on the table.
Hades was not pleased, more impatient than anything. He wanted her naked, spread before him. He wanted to be balls-deep inside her. “Ask your question, goddess. I am eager to play another hand.”
He knew what she would say, and he wanted to get it out of the way.
“Have you slept with her?”
He hated this question because it reminded him of a different version of himself. One that felt hopeless and dispassionate. One that sought to rekindle any sense of belonging and need, and he had turned to Minthe. He was not proud, but he knew she would be willing.
It was a decision he regretted, not only because of his insincerity but because he had been unfair to her. He had given her hope when he had no intention of establishing a relationship with her, and that was exactly what she had expected and in the aftermath of their coupling, then he had told her she would never sit beside him as queen.
So he answered the question, a bitter taste on his tongue.
“Once.”
She paled visibly and Hades suddenly understood the emotion Persephone had invested in this question. It meant something to her that he had been with this woman, but would it mean she would deny him?
“How long ago?”
“A very long time ago, Persephone.”
He could not ask her to wait another round for the answer. It did not seem fair when it was so important to her.
At hearing this, she looked away.
“Are you…angry?” he asked.
“Yes.” He was surprised by her honesty, surprised when she met his gaze and expressed her confusion. “But…I don’t know why exactly.”
He tried to imagine what must be going through her head, but when he found himself thinking of her fucking another man, he decided it was the wrong course of action. The thought only served to call up his violence. So he focused on the cards instead, dealing another hand.
This time, he won, and he reclined in his chair, considering the goddess before him. There was not much to commandeer, but it was not so much the taking he enjoyed. It was the tension that ignited the air between them as he considered, and she waited. Finally, he stood and Persephone straightened as he approached, neck straining to hold his gaze.
“I will take the earrings, my darling.”
She was not breathing. He knew because as he leaned toward her, her chest did not move, so as his lips brushed her ear, he whispered, “Breathe.”
And he was rewarded with her sharp exhale. He proceeded to wrap his lips around her earrings and pry them from her ears, catching the backs in his hand. Once they were out, he drew his tongue over the spot, and grazed it with his teeth, noting that her hands gripped the edge of the table.
As he returned to his seat for the next round, he prayed to the Fates who had gifted this woman, and could take her away, that this was the last round. Let me have her. Here, now, on this very table where they had agreed to bargain for clothing and answers and the rest of their lives.
Except the Fates granted no such prayer—or relief for Hades’ raging hard-on—because Persephone won.
“Your power of invisibility,” she began, eyeing him as if she expected him to be surprised that she knew. “Have you ever used it…to spy on me?”
Hades considered her question carefully, particularly the word spy. It was a word that, in this context, sounded like an accusation, and he had a feeling it didn’t come from this evening when he had lingered beside her as she explored the exhibit. That was a different sort of intimacy.
This question had its roots in the night when Hades had watched Persephone masturbate—when he, too, had pleasured himself at the sight.
In truth, he had not been using invisibility, but a different power that involved projecting the soul. Besides, could it really be called spying if she knew he was there?
“No,” he finally answered.
“And will you promise to never use invisibility to spy on me?”
It was not the only method he could use to keep tabs on her, and if he had to give one up, it might as well be invisibility. He hoped that soon, wherever she went, she would want his presence.
“I promise.”
His hands flexed over the cards as Persephone asked another question. “Why do you let people think such horrible things about you?”
As he shuffled the cards, he considered not answering, but decided he would entertain her…and distract himself from the source of his discomfort growing between his legs.
“I do not control what people think of me.”
“But you do nothing to contradict what they say about you.” She seemed irritated about this, which intrigued Hades.
He raised a brow. “You think words have meaning?”
A line appeared between her brows, and he dealt another hand.
“They are just that—words. Words are used to spin stories and craft lies, and occasionally, they are strung together to tell the truth.”
The world was built on words—the words of gods, the words of enemies, the words of lovers.
“If words hold no weight for you, what does?”
When he met her gaze, he felt the whole world shift and approached her. She held his gaze, the air between them morphing into something hot and heavy. Hades let his eyes fall to his cards as he spread them on the table before her—a royal flush.
“Action, Lady Persephone.” His voice rasped, a match igniting. “Action holds weight for me.”
She rose to meet him, their lips colliding, arms and tongues entangling. Their movements were frenzied, like they could not come together fast enough or hard enough. Finally, Hades gripped her hips and turned to sit, dragging her into his lap so that she straddled him. He had the fleeting thought that this dress she wore was made for sex as he drew the straps down her arms, exposing her breasts, kneading them until her nipples were taut. Persephone gasped, biting down on his lip, eliciting a growl from deep in his throat. Her hips rolled against his, and for a brief moment, he helped her move, enjoying the friction the movement elicited. But her breasts pressed against him, and he found himself drawn there, taking each perfect globe in his hand and devouring them with his mouth. Persephone offered a satisfying moan, her head lolling back and forth, her fingers running recklessly through his hair until it hung loose around his face. Soon, the only thing he could hear was her heavy breathing, her precious moans, her frustrated growls, and he moved, hauling her onto the table, hands on her knees spreading them as wide as they would go.
They stared at one another, Persephone elevated on her elbows, Hades bent over her.
“I have thought of you every night since you left me in the baths,” he said, pressing his erection into her heat, and his voice dipped, clouded with the desire he felt. “You left me desperate, swollen with need only for you.” He paused and pressed a kiss to her knee. “But I will be a generous lover.”
He trailed kisses down the inner part of her thigh, following with his tongue until he reached her center. There, he pried her apart, exposing her sensitive pink flesh and her aching clit, and touched it with his tongue, circling it, before licking down her slit. She writhed beneath him, and reached for him, but he clasped her wrists and held them at her sides, looking up at her from his place between her legs.
“I said I would be a generous lover, not a kind one.”
He returned to her sex, skimming with his tongue, lapping at her heat, sinking inside her, all the while he held her hips in place, pressing into her, spurred on by her wicked moans. Soon, his fingers joined his tongue, sinking deep into her heat. She was a furnace, and her muscles clenched around him as he worked, moving in and out while he took her clit into his mouth until she came apart, calling his name.
He wasted no time dragging her to his mouth. He wanted her to taste her need on his lips. As their mouths collided, her hands went to the buttons on his shirt, but before she could work them free, he stopped her, drawing away and fixing her dress.
“What are you doing?”
For a moment, he saw fear flash in her eyes, as if she thought he might leave.
He was far too selfish.
“Patience, darling,”
He gathered her into his arms and strolled out of his study, into the palace halls.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“To my chambers,” he said.
“And you can’t teleport?”
“I’d prefer the whole palace know we aren’t meant to be disturbed.”
It was a ridiculous display of masculinity, a primal show of his claim to her, but he wanted the whole castle in an uproar over this night, wanted to leave no doubt in the minds of his people that Persephone was untouchable
Once they were inside his chambers, he lowered her to the floor, keeping her close. He studied her, eyes searching, looking for any sign of hesitation. His greatest fear was her regret, and so he gave her an out.
“We don’t have to do this,” he said.
Her hands flattened on his chest, smoothing over his shoulder until his jacket slid down his arm. It took some maneuvering to tug it over his biceps. Once it was off, she met his gaze.
“I want you. Be my first, be my everything.”
He kissed her, sweetly at first, savoring the feel of her lips against his, but Persephone’s hands roamed, over his stomach and straight to his cock. She held him, and he kissed her harder, hand gripping the back of her head, prying her mouth open as far as it would go, until he could no longer stand being clothed.
He pulled away and spun her around, unzipping her dress and easing it down her shapely hips until she stood naked before him, wearing only her crown and heels.
He wasn’t sure it was possible, but his cock thickened, and his groan was audible. He walked a circle around her, his muscles clenched, fingers flexing. He could not wait to be inside her.
“You are beautiful, my darling.”