Someone was fucking with him, and he did not like it.
First Kal, then Hera, now Leuce.
He had wanted his confrontation with her to be short, concise, and final, but he knew he’d have to talk to her again. He needed more information on her sudden transformation. He had a hard time believing she didn’t know who was responsible, and her connection to him was too great for someone not to use it against him.
Hades instructed Ilias to find Leuce a place to stay and assign surveillance before returning to the Underworld, and while he’d have liked to return to Persephone, he had one other unpleasant task ahead—visiting the Fates.
Dread pooled low in his stomach, a weight as heavy as the guilt he carried for Leuce. Hades never enjoyed visiting the Fates, but he liked it less when it was personal. They were deities who understood their power and used it to mock, tease, tantalize, and provoke, and he knew that he would not escape their ridicule tonight, which would make the horror of his labor worse.
He manifested outside the Fates’ mirrored palace, the size of which was impossible to detect given that the structure was almost consumed by evergreens and ivy. When Hades had created their isolated realm, the sisters had insisted on many things. Among them, the palace was to be made of mirror and glass.
“To reflect the truth,” Clotho had said.
“To show what is,” Lachesis explained.
“To illustrate reality,” Atropos added.
Hades had no doubt the Fates used the mirrors for more than just truth. They represented possibility, and while possibility could be grand, it could also be devastating. The Fates were supposed to be neutral deities, but truthfully, they had a tendency to favor tragedy.
“The King of the Underworld is troubled.” Lachesis’s voice was the first to reach him, yet the Fate had not yet materialized.
“The Rich One is in despair,” Atropos said.
“The Receiver of Many is bothered.” Clotho materialized as she spoke.
All the Fates looked the same, even in age, though Clotho was the youngest. They had long, dark hair and wore white. They did not have horns but wore crowns that resembled a nest of gold twigs.
“What is it, King?” Atropos inquired, appearing next.
“Tell us why you have come, Your Majesty,” said Lachesis, incarnating last. They stood in an arc before Hades, and he gritted his teeth. They knew why he had come. He needed to know if they had woven Briareus’s fate and if he could fight it.
“I need the thread of Briareus,” Hades said.
“Demanding, aren’t we?” Atropos said.
“Gruff,” Clotho replied.
“Brutish,” Lachesis agreed.
“Ask nicely,” they said in unison.
His jaw hurt as he glared back at the three so hard, his eyes burned.
“Please,” he gritted out.
The three broke into wicked smiles.
“Well, since you asked so politely,” Lachesis sniffed.
“Pleasantly,” Clotho added.
“Kindly,” Atropos said. “What do you wish to know?”
“I must know Briareus’s fate,” Hades said, hating the way the Fates’ eyes gleamed.
“Briareus, you say,” said Lachesis.
“One of the Hecatoncheires,” observed Clotho.
“The storm giants,” Atropos affirmed.
“Why?” they asked in unison.
“As if you do not already know,” he gritted out.
They were all quiet, and Hades recognized his own behavior in them. They would not continue until he gave them the answer they wanted.
“What will it cost me when I kill Briareus?”
He hated asking the question before he’d even tried seeking a loophole, but he knew how this worked. He had seen the cycle repeat over centuries. There would likely be no other way to appease Hera, and the one thing he was not willing to sacrifice was Persephone and their future together.
“You wish to end a life I have spun?” Clotho said.
“A life I have measured?” Lachesis continued.
“A life I haven’t cut?” Atropos asked, affronted.
As they spoke, a gold thread shimmered in the dark, twisting and looping around each of the Fates. He watched it, a thin line of energy that made up the fabric of the world.
“I do not wish to,” Hades said, but the alternative was a price he would not pay, so he had to know this one. “As you are aware, this is Hera’s vendetta.”
“And you she has chosen for the deed,” said Clotho.
The thread morphed into a silhouette of Hera, Persephone, and himself. The Goddess of Marriage stood between them and used her spear to sever the thread that connected them. That was not the end of Hera’s rage, however. The threads continued to depict her pursuit of Persephone until she descended into madness.
Hades closed his eyes at the scene, and when he focused on the Fates again, the threads were gone.
Atropos spoke. “And the consequences of refusing her are so great, you are willing to face our wrath.”
It was not a question, and Hades did not speak.
“A life like Briareus will cost you dearly, King,” said Lachesis.
“The consequences are the same—a soul for a soul,” said Clotho.
He did not bother asking which soul would replace the one he was about to take, though he knew a life like Briareus would come at a great cost. He was an immortal being, a monster, and whatever took his place would have to be powerful.
“Where does this path leave Persephone?” Hades asked, focusing on what was important.
If one path led toward madness, he did not trust that the other would not lead to hardship.
“Oh, dear king,” said Clotho.
“There is no path,” said Atropos.
“That will leave her unbroken,” said Lachesis.
* * *
There is no path that will leave her unbroken.
Those words crowded his thoughts, pressing hard against his skull as he watched Persephone sleep from his position near the fireplace. She lay on her side, draped in black silk. Her hands were curled under her head, her breathing even and undisturbed.
She was safe.
If he were true to his nature, he would never let her leave his realm. It was the life above that would damage her…or would it be him?
He frowned at the thought and then downed what remained of the whiskey in his glass before shedding his clothes and climbing into bed. He hovered at the end and pulled the sheets from her body. As the silk slid over her skin, exposing her nakedness, she opened her eyes and turned her sleepy gaze to him.
“You’re back,” she said groggily.
She rested on her elbows, and her breasts filled his vision. They swelled as she breathed, her nipples peaked and rosy, contrasting beautifully with her creamy skin. Hades leaned forward and took each into a hand, lavishing her with kisses. As his tongue teased, she let out a moan, fingers tangling into his hair and tightening as she pulled, urging his lips to hers, and he obliged, crashing down on her mouth. He let his body mold to hers for only a moment before his knee parted her thighs to tease her, feeling the wetness of her arousal. Another wave of sheer pleasure rocketed through him, straight to his already-hard cock, and as much as he wanted to be inside her, he wanted to prolong this more.
He left her lips, trailing kisses down her body until he reached the apex of her thighs, and as he went down on her, he held her gaze. She had returned to her original position, leaning back on her elbows, watching with lust-clouded eyes. She inhaled deep, and Hades focused on the sound of her quickening breaths as he continued. He loved the taste of her, the feel of her heated flesh against his tongue. All the while, his cock throbbed and the anticipation of plunging into her warmth made his balls tight.
“Fuck,” Persephone breathed, and Hades glanced up to see her head had fallen back, her fingers crushing the sheet beneath her. Then she began to move against his mouth, chasing the friction that would make her come. That was when Hades pulled back. Persephone watched him, and then her eyes fell to his length, heavy with arousal.
“Let me pleasure you,” she said.
He did not argue as she moved to her knees before him and took him into her mouth.
He intended to release his breath in a slow stream, but it came out as a gruff exhale. In their time together, she had gained a rhythm, and she used it now—her hand cupping his balls, her mouth working the crown of his cock.
“Yes,” he hissed as her mouth moved down his shaft while she continued to stroke him. The pressure made his ears ring, and all he could focus on was her touch, her smell, her presence. She filled all his senses, and as her mouth popped off his cock, he guided her onto her back. Her legs fell open, and he jerked her close, stroking himself before guiding his cock to her entrance. She slid on with a practiced ease and they moved together. Hades kept himself upright, one hand on Persephone’s shoulder, as they slammed together. Her breaths turned to cries as he moved, alternating between long, slow strokes and rapid thrusts. He wanted to kiss her, but he also wanted to watch her expression continue to morph as he fucked her into oblivion.
“It feels so good,” she whispered, her head hung back, her throat exposed.
Hades bent and kissed her there. “I thought about this all day,” he said. “How I would make you come.”
At his words, she met his gaze and he pulled back, bringing her with him, lifting her into his lap. Her legs framed his body, giving her the leverage she needed to move with him. He liked this position—he could feel her breasts and her swollen clit rubbing against him, and when she grew too tired to move, he rolled with her, moving to their sides. He pulled her thigh up and behind his knee, continuing to thrust. The pressure at the base of his cock was building, moving upward, and he wanted to go faster but also make all this last forever.
Persephone’s cries became keen, and he could feel her muscles contract around him.
“Fuck,” she breathed, her hand sliding down her stomach to her clit, rubbing vigorously.
“Come,” he commanded, and as her orgasm tore through her, he followed, body stiffening as his release spilled inside her. Hades drew his arm around Persephone’s waist and pulled her close, their breathing evening as their bodies relaxed.
“Was everything okay?” Persephone asked, her voice heavy with sleep.
“Fine,” he replied, even though it was a lie.
Chapter IV
The False Oracle
“Are you sure you do not wish for me to take you to work?” Hades asked, standing outside Nevernight. He gripped Persephone’s ass, his cock growing harder the longer he held her close, but he found that he did not want to let her go, even with Antoni waiting to take her to work.
“I am sure you have more important things to do than take me to work,” she said.
“Nothing is as important as you,” he said.
She arched her brow. “My life will never be the same now that all of New Greece knows about us,” she said. “I’d like to keep parts of my routine, even if they seem…impractical.”
He had anticipated this and did not argue, though he glanced at Antoni, who had instructions to see her safely to work and report on anything amiss.
“Will you come to me tonight?” he asked.
“I think I should stay at the apartment tonight,” she said. “Lexa misses me.”
Disappointment made his body heavy, though he tried to mask it by pressing a kiss to her forehead. He knew this was what she had wanted—a balance between the life she shared with him in the Underworld and the one she had here with her friends and roommate.
“Of course,” he said.