Hades returned to the palace.
He would have to tell Ilias what he’d learned from the farmer.
There had always been an urgency behind finding the ophiotaurus, but Hades had felt an even greater need to locate it as Demeter’s storm in the Upperworld worsened and Persephone began to question whether Zeus would allow their marriage.
There were too many obstacles in his way to having everything he had ever wanted. The ophiotaurus would make anyone’s attempt to overthrow the Olympians far too easy, and Hades would be damned if he lost without a fucking war.
As he meandered through the garden, in no hurry to return to the castle, he felt Persephone’s magic blossom.
She was back, which was strange. When she went to the Upperworld for work, she often remained for hours.
He frowned and vanished from the garden, following her magic to the bedchamber where he found her naked. She had yet to turn to him as she bent at the waist, inspecting something on her legs. He was content with this and admired her quietly from a distance, though he let his imagination run wild with other things he would like to do to her in that position.
After a few moments, she straightened, still unaware he had joined her. She turned toward the bathroom and startled.
“Hades!” His name slipped from her mouth on a breathless shout. He liked the way she said his name; it reminded him of how she came with his name on her lips. “You scared me!”
His eyes dropped to her breasts, which she covered with one hand, as if she could stop her racing heart.
“You should have known I would find you once you took your clothes off. It is a sixth sense.”
He guided her hand away from her breast and kissed her fingers, which were delicate and strong. He thought about how they threaded through his hair, how her nails grazed his scalp, how they twined around his hair and pulled as she rode him until he came.
I am fucking insatiable, he thought, even as his eyes drifted down her body.
Except that now he noticed her thighs, which were red and swollen. Small pockets of fluid speckled her skin, clear in color but obvious. They were blisters.
“What is this?” he demanded, pressing his palm flat against the fiery skin, which seemed to revolt against his palm. Persephone gripped his other arm, her nails biting into his arm as he tried to heal her flesh—to heal her burns.
What the fuck?
“A woman poured coffee into my lap,” Persephone said.
He didn’t like the pain that seeped into her voice.
“Poured?” he asked, meeting her gaze.
“If you are asking if it was intentional, the answer is yes.”
Intentional.
It was as Hades had feared in the aftermath of Adonis’s death, and even before that, when news of his relationship with Persephone hit the media. He had always been afraid someone would target her, aware that at some point, something would happen, and Persephone would realize that she could not exist in the world as she once had—as an unassuming mortal.
She was more than that—a goddess to be certain, but his, and that made people angry.
He knelt before her, wrestling with his emotions, which were everywhere all at once. There was a pressure in his head and chest that urged him to explode and seek vengeance, but the guilt kept him anchored at her feet. He should have insisted that she not go out in public; he should have given her an office at Alexandria Tower sooner.
He channeled this frustration with himself into soothing her wounds and healing her. Once he was certain she was no longer in pain and there was no visible sign of the burns, he let his hands slide to the backs of her thighs and held her, his eyes drifting back to hers from his place on the floor.
“Will you tell me who this woman was?” he asked, and he bent forward, letting his mouth drift over her newly healed skin, content when she offered a pleasing sigh.
“No,” she said, bracing her hands on his shoulders, her golden hair curtaining her face.
“I cannot…persuade you?”
She hummed when his tongue darted out to taste as he neared the mound of dark curls between her thighs, catching sight of her clit, which was quickly swelling, begging to be touched and teased.
He groaned at the thought of taking it into his mouth, sucking it gently.
He hardened more and he was certain it was cutting off the blood supply to his brain.
“Perhaps,” Persephone said, her breathy reply sending a surge of heat straight to the head of his cock. Hades struggled to remember what he had asked. “But I do not know her name, so all your…persuading would be in vain.”
“Nothing I do is in vain.”
He could take it no longer and shifted, his mouth closing over her clit, lips teasing. Her sigh was heavy and guttural, and he enjoyed the way her fingers moved to his hair and the sweet sting when she pulled too hard.
“Hades—”
He pulled away enough to whisper against her heated flesh, the taste of her on his tongue enough to drive him mad. If she did not let him bring her to release, he would spend all evening thinking about everything they had left unfinished here.
“Don’t make me stop,” he begged between flicks of his tongue against her.
Another pleasant sigh left her, but when she spoke, her voice was controlled and commanding.
“You have thirty minutes.”
It was enough to make him pull away and meet her gaze, and for fuck’s sake, she was beautiful and far stronger than him. Her eyes gleamed bright green, as if her glamour was fading, but he knew it was just the power of her arousal, a sign of how much she wanted him. The problem was she could control it, could bide her time before release.
Hades could not.
“Only thirty?”
Her eyes flashed and a playful smirk curled her lips.
“Do you need more?”
His let his hands drift to her ass, squeezing as he grinned.
“Darling, we both know I could make you come in five, but what if I’d like to take my time?”
Her smile warmed, her fingers touching his lips. “Later.” Though he could not tell if it was more of a command or a promise. “I have a party to attend, and I still need to make cupcakes.”
“Is it not a mortal custom to be fashionably late?” Hadn’t he heard that somewhere before? He felt like he was pouting, but this was important—pleasure following the pain.
“Did Hermes tell you that?”
“Is he wrong?”
Her eyes narrowed.
“I will not be late to Sybil’s party, Hades. If you wish to please me, then you’ll make me come and on time.”
He offered a light chuckle, letting his chin rest between her thighs as he agreed to her bidding.
“As you wish, my darling,” he said and continued his work, teasing her clit until he felt as though it pulsed in his mouth. Then he drew her leg over his shoulder, and she kept her hands on his shoulders for support, widening so he could taste her. He wanted to fuck her with more than just his fingers and tongue; his cock begged to be inside her, especially when she began to grind against his mouth, but she had given him a limit, and if this was where she was going to spend the majority of his time, he would make it good. He would have to get himself off later while she iced fucking cupcakes instead of his dick.
But this was good.
It was enough.
It was her, and that was all that mattered.
When she came against his mouth, he was satisfied with her pleasure, and he rose to his feet and covered her mouth with his own, holding her tight against him, his head spinning at the minuscule amount of friction their closeness brought to his cock.
He pulled away when her hands tried to gain access to him, but their bodies were pressed so close, she could not manage it.
“I promised to make you come and get you to Sybil’s on time. If you touch me, I will break that promise.”
His words bordered on a threat. He knew what he was capable of at this moment. He also knew he could barely think. One touch from her would seal the fucking deal.
She looked very much like she regretted coaxing that agreement from his lips. She started to open her mouth, but whatever words were poised to come out never left because he kissed her again, his hands framing her head. When he pulled away, he let his forehead rest against hers.
“Go make the fucking cupcakes, Persephone.”
He released her and stepped back. She seemed a little dazed, which was far better than how he felt. He could hardly contain himself as she slipped into a new dress. At the door, she turned to look at him.
“Are you…going to join me in the kitchen?”
“In a moment,” he said.
She nodded, her eyes darting to his dick, which strained hard against his trousers. It was obvious what he intended to do, and the door barely clicked closed before he had unbuttoned his pants, taken his cock out, and began to jerk himself off.
“Fuck me,”he thought as he pumped into his palm, which was nothing at all like Persephone’s wet and writhing body, but he was out of options.
He came quickly, messily, but the release was nothing compared to what he actually needed, and as he washed away the evidence of his actions, he wondered if he could make it through this night without fucking her in Sybil’s new home.
CHAPTER VII
HADES
Hades let Persephone lead, using her magic to teleport to Sybil’s new home since she had been there before. They appeared in front of a green apartment door, in an alcove beneath a set of cement and metal stairs. Hades manifested with just enough room that his head brushed one of the steps overhead.
He shifted forward a little to give himself space, his hands settling on Persephone’s waist as he did. She shivered, but it had nothing to do with his touch. It was fucking frigid.
He had not been outside since last night when he’d left the Underworld for La Rose, and while it had been cold, it was evident the temperature had dropped.
He should have waited to jerk off. This cold would have killed his boner faster.
Fucking Demeter. It was as he feared. The weather was getting worse.
Hades felt a surge of power against his palms. It was warm and came from Persephone. He held her tighter, his head lowering so that his lips were near her ear.
“Are you well?”
When she didn’t respond, he frowned, straightening.
“Persephone?”
She seemed to realize he was speaking and looked up at him, the back of her head resting against his chest. She looked adorable and felt so small in his grasp. These were his favorite moments, the ones that felt quiet and intimate, and he craved them more and more.
“I am well,” she said, but something moved behind her eyes—a darkness he recognized in his own. “I am,” she attempted to assure him. “I was just thinking about my mother.”
“Do not ruin your evening thinking of her, my darling,” he said.
She did not need to know that he had been thinking of her too.
“It is a little hard to ignore her given the weather, Hades.”
He reluctantly turned his head toward the sky, dense with cloud cover. He hated that Demeter was on her mind. He knew it was likely because she’d read all the reports in the media about the winter storm being a form of divine punishment, and she likely felt responsible.
Despite knowing very few things about her daughter, Demeter was aware that the way to get to Persephone was through her heart.
She would ensure this storm was devastating to the people of New Greece, and when that happened, would Persephone regret agreeing to marry him?
He wondered if she was thinking about it now.
If she wasn’t yet, she soon would be.
He ground his teeth, and Persephone shifted from his grasp to knock on the door, her warmth disappearing with her distance. He didn’t like it.
And he liked it even less when a man answered Sybil’s door.
Not because he felt like a threat or even appeared to be. It was how he felt.
Wrong. Deceptive.
Hades returned his hand to Persephone’s waist. He wasn’t sure if he should feel relieved or worried when she seemed just as confused by the blond, blue-eyed man.
“Um, I think we might have the wrong—”
“Persephone, right?” the man asked.
Hades stiffened. He did not like the way he said her name. It was too casual, too comfortable.
“Persephone!” Sybil cried, running up behind the man who did not move, forcing the oracle to bow beneath his arm, which was braced against the doorframe as if he were some kind of guard.
Hades also did not like that.
He let Persephone go when Sybil pulled her in for a hug.
“I’m so glad you’re here!” she said, and it was impossible not to hear the relief in her voice. Hades cast a dark look at the mortal male who watched them, unmoving.
Had he made Sybil uncomfortable in her own home?
His fingers tightened into fists.
If Sybil did not introduce him soon, Hades would send him to a deserted island somewhere off the coast of New Greece.
“I’m glad you could come too, Hades.”
Hades was surprised and met the oracle’s gaze.
“I appreciate the invitation,” he said sincerely.
He was rarely invited to anything that wasn’t his own event.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” The man standing guard in the doorway had finally moved to cross his arms over his chest as if he were pouting. His voice was grating, and he spoke with a crude entitlement Hades found irritating. He got the feeling the mortal only spoke to draw attention back to himself, and his attention he would have.
The God of the Dead glared.
Did he really need an introduction to death?
Sybil half turned to the man, as if she’d forgotten he was here. She gave them a look as if to apologize for his insolence.
“Persephone, Hades, this is Ben.”
“Hi, I’m Sybil’s boyfrie—”
“Friend. Ben is a friend,” Sybil interrupted him.
Hades exchanged a look with Persephone, who could not hide her bewildered expression.
“Well, soon-to-be boyfriend,” Ben amended.
Hades couldn’t hide his disgust and glowered—which deepened when Persephone shook the mortal’s outstretched hand.
“It’s…nice to meet you,” she said.
She was far too nice.
The mortal turned to Hades expectantly, offering his hand.
“You do not want to shake my hand, mortal.”
First, he would crush it, and then he would force the man to face every fear he’d ever conjured. It would all happen in a split second and drive him to the point of madness.
Hades would enjoy watching it, but he felt like Persephone would disapprove.
The mortal did not like Hades’s rebuff. A kernel of anger sparked within his gaze. It almost made Hades laugh, and he wished the mortal would say something about his slight. He would take any reason to banish him from this party, but in the quiet that followed, he seemed to gain some sense and recovered his pleasant—albeit unnerving—facade.
He smiled and then finally moved out of the fucking door.
“Well, shall we go in?”
Hades was not keen on being in such a confined space with this mortal. They were already off to a bad start, but he pressed a hand to Persephone’s lower back as they entered the apartment.
He could feel her gaze on him, curious but also observant.
“What?” he asked, voice quiet.
“You promised to behave,” she reminded.
“It is not in my nature to appease mortals,” he said, especially ones who had a sense of self-importance in the face of actual death.