A Touch of Chaos (34 page)

Ariadne would be very disappointed if you punched a sheep
, he reminded himself.

“Gods, why do you do that?” he demanded.

“Baa!” the sheep answered.

“
Shut up!
” he snapped as he rose into a sitting position, his head spinning for a brief moment.

He glanced at the sheep and then around, realizing that this place was familiar. He had come to the shore of Thrinacia.

Dionysus looked down, relieved to find that Hermes's sandals were still strapped to his feet, and then back at the sheep.

“What is that smell?” he asked.

The sheep replied with another loud cry, and while its breath was rancid, it did not compare to what permeated the island air.

This was something far, far worse. It was a smell that had memory, even after it had long since dissipated.

It was the smell of death.

Dread pooled low in Dionysus's stomach. It was possible the smell came from the decaying body of the ophiotaurus, but even he knew that was wishful thinking. Something else had happened here.

Something terrible.

He exchanged a look with the sheep, who still lingered nearby. The animal opened its mouth, bleating loudly before turning to lead him into the thick of the forest. Though he did not think he needed an escort to return to the cyclops's cave, following the creature provided some comfort as they navigated the dense terrain and rocky mountainside. All the while, the smell of rot grew worse and worse.

Dionysus had never thought long on the power of a smell, but this was like walking into a solid wall, and no matter how hard he pushed against it, it never moved. It just sat in the air, coating his clothes and stinging his nose.

By the time they made it to the mouth of the cyclops's cave, his eyes were watering, his nose was dripping, and he thought that at any moment, he would vomit, but he had found the source of the smell.

It was not just the ophiotaurus that lay within, rotting.

The cyclops was too.

Polyphemus.

His graying form lay like a mountain near the spring Dionysus had turned to wine. Hesitantly, he approached, one arm drawn over his nose, not that it could keep the smell at bay. Still, he wondered what had happened to the creature. He seemed to be in the same position as before, when he had passed out in his drunken state,
except as Dionysus rounded the creature's shoulder, he found that his eye was stabbed through with a spear.

The cyclops had been murdered.

Dionysus peered into the darkness, wondering who had carried out the attack, though they seemed to be long gone by now. Perhaps the old man who had asked him to perform the execution had followed and finished the job. Whatever the case, he wondered what sort of curse would haunt the person who left him unburied.

Dionysus moved past the cyclops and made his way farther into the cave, suffocated by the scent of death, until he found Bully's remains.

He stood in mournful silence, thinking about how the creature had protected Ariadne. Though a monster with a serpent body and the head of a bull, he was a harmless creature who was more frightened than violent. Still, the Fates had assigned him a terrible destiny, but that was their nature: cruelty.

After a few seconds, he knelt and began to dig, using a sharp rock to make a trench beside Bully's body. When it was deep enough, he took the creature by the horns, hoping to pull his entire body into the pit, but he was so decomposed, only half of him made it, and Dionysus was forced to push what remained into the grave with his foot.

It was terrible, and the smell never lessened.

When he was finished, he covered the creature with a bed of soil. It was all he could manage before he raced from the mouth of the cave and vomited.

It was there as he bent with his hands on his knees that something struck him from behind, and he had the thought that his head was going to explode right before he lost consciousness. Again.

Persephone sat in her favorite chair in the library. A fire blazed in the hearth, and Cerberus, Typhon, and Orthrus slept nearby while she read—or tried to. Despite the peace of the evening, she could not shake the thought that something bad was happening. The feeling blossomed in her chest and grew into her throat, worsening as each quiet second ticked by.

Something wet splashed on her leg.

At first, she did not pay it any mind, thinking that perhaps she had imagined it, but then she felt a second drop.

She put her book down, expecting to see Orthrus standing near drooling on her, but he wasn't. All the dogs remained asleep before the fireplace.

Persephone frowned and then felt another splash, this time on her face. She wiped at the wetness, and as she pulled her hand back, she noticed her fingers were stained with crimson.

Strange
, she thought.

When another drop fell, she looked up and went cold when she saw that the ceiling was saturated in red, and she knew it was blood. It pooled in places and then fell in heavy drops to the floor and glided down the walls.

Her heart started to race. Panic bubbled inside her.

She shot to her feet, only to wake and find that she was in bed beside Hades. There was no blood, just the cold silk of their bedding.

She took a breath and shoved the blankets aside, slipping from bed. Despite the fire in the hearth, the air was cool, and she shivered, her skin pebbling.

She crossed to Hades's bar and poured herself a glass of whiskey, but just as she brought it to her lips, his voice ignited in the dark.

“What are you doing?”

She whirled to find him standing close. Warmth radiated off his skin. She wanted it, leaned into it, as her eyes found his.

“Trying to chase away the darkness,” she said.

“You will only feed it,” he said, taking the glass.

She expected him to down it, but he didn't. He set it aside, never shifting his attention from her.

“Is that why you drink?” she asked.

He studied her for a few quiet seconds and then said, “I do not wish for you to be like me.”

“Would you love me less?”

“Never,” he said and then frowned. “That question was unkind.”

Persephone dropped her gaze, and Hades inched closer, tipping her head back with his finger.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice a deep rumble she could feel in her chest.

“There is nothing to tell,” she said, looking at him. “It was only a nightmare.”

Hades studied her, his eyes glittering like obsidian—a reflection of the desire burning with her.

“Do you wish to sleep?”

“No,” she said. “No…I do not wish to sleep.”

Hades's gaze fell to her lips.

“Then what is it you desire?”

His voice promised worship and made her blood simmer.

She slid out from between him and the bar, swiping a deck of cards from the mantle. “I desire a game,” she said.

“A game?”

“A game with stakes.”

Hades tilted his head to the side. “Tell me your terms, Goddess.”

“Whatever you desire, so long as it brings me pleasure.”

Hades's eyes darkened. “May I request the same from you?”

She tried not to smile. “You may,” she said.

“And the game you wish to play?”

“Poker,” she said.

Hades raised a brow.

It was the game he'd chosen the night they'd first slept together, and she chose it now because she wanted a distraction.

“Fine, Goddess,” he said. “Do you wish to deal?”

“I'll let you have the honor,” she said and sat, suddenly eye level with Hades's engorged cock.

She let her gaze drift to his.

“Hurry, my lord,” she said in a breathy whisper.

She noticed Hades's fingers curl, and shadows danced in his eyes.

“As you wish, darling.”

He sat opposite her and shuffled the cards before dealing two each.

Persephone did not move to look, and Hades raised a brow.

“Do you not wish to know your hand?” he asked.

She smirked, holding his gaze as she replied. “Darling, I win either way.”

Hades tensed, and for a moment, she thought he might forgo the game and fuck her on the table that now divided them, but after a moment, he dealt five more cards face up—a jack, an eight, a king, a nine. and an ace.

Persephone turned her cards—a king and an ace.

Hades had a queen and a ten.

He had won.

She pressed her thighs together, suddenly overwhelmed by a hot wave of desire.

“Come,” Hades said.

Persephone rose and lowered to her knees before him.

“Why do you kneel?”

“Forgive me,” she said. “I assumed you would want my mouth.”

Hades cupped her face, brushing his thumb across her lips.

“Do not take my question for rejection,” he said. “I want your mouth, but I had something else in mind. On your feet.”

She did as he asked, his hands smoothing over her ass,
and he pulled her close, remaining seated as he buried his face between her legs.

She sighed, sifting her fingers through his hair as she widened her stance.

“This was supposed to be about your pleasure,” she said.

“This does please me,” he said. His breath was warm against her, and the feel of him made her dizzy.

“What about this pleases you?” she asked.

He hummed against her flesh.

“Everything,” he said as he spread her and licked her silken flesh, his fingers slowly inching into her liquid heat. It was hard to explain just how good he felt, and despite his attention between her legs, she could feel him all over.

“Hades,” she gasped, fingers twisting into his hair.

She wanted to pull him closer and grind into his face.

She wanted to clench around him and come.

He slipped to the floor and guided her foot to rest against the chair. As he hooked his arms around her thighs, he sucked her clit into his mouth, gazing up at her before he released her.

“Pray to me, darling,” he said. “And I may let you come.”

“I do pray,” she said, her fingers grazing his scalp as she gripped his hair. “I worship you.”

She bore down against him, and he coaxed her to release.

“Fuck,” she moaned, her limbs shaking. She bent forward, unable to remain upright as the tension inside her unraveled in long, slow waves. The move brought
her breasts close to Hades's face, and he teased her nipples with his mouth, sucking and licking until she was able to straighten, though that did not stop him from brushing kisses across her skin.

“Shall we continue our game?” he asked, his voice deep and husky, his mouth glistening with her release.

She held his gaze, her hands on his shoulders. “Of course,” she said, unsuccessfully trying to hide the fact that she was still breathless.

She started to move to her seat, but his grip tightened.

“No,” he said, returning to his chair. “Sit.”

Persephone raised a brow but did as he asked, letting him guide her into his lap, his cock nestled firmly against her ass. The feel of him made it hard to breathe, hard to focus on anything other than how empty she felt.

She preferred this—anything to distract from the nightmare that had preceded this.

“Are you certain you will be able to
perform
?” she asked.

Hades reached for the cards, and she moved with him.

“I thought we established I can multitask,” he said, his lips and then his teeth brushing her ear. She shivered.

“I'm not sure I like when you multitask,” she said.

“Do you find me lacking?” he asked, shuffling the cards in front of her.

“No,” she said. “But perhaps it means that I am.”

“You severely underestimate your power over me, darling. I am merely determined to do as you have bid.”

She turned her head toward Hades's, hooking her hand behind his neck, her mouth opening for him, his tongue crashing against hers, and when they parted,
Persephone looked to find Hades's hands fisted, the cards smashed in his grip.

“You ruined them,” she said.

“Fuck the cards, Persephone, and sit on my cock.”

She smiled and lifted herself as Hades guided himself to her entrance. They both groaned as she slid down him. Hades's hands smoothed up her body, and he cupped her breasts, squeezing them while brushing kisses across her back. Then he spread her legs wide with his and gripped her waist, bouncing her up and down his length.

“Gods,” she whispered, her head rolling back to settle against his shoulder. Hades gripped her jaw and brought their mouths together, kissing her as his hips continued to grind, and his hand moved between her thighs.

She gasped at the feel of him and breathed his name, her body bowing backward as the pleasure swelled, her shoulders pressing into his chest, her body tightening harder as she rose to the tip of his cock and slammed back down.

“Yes, darling. That's it. Come for me,” Hades said, his face buried in the crook of her neck. “Fuck!”

She came in waves, each one shuddering through her as Hades's fingers teased her swollen and sensitive clit. She thought she might implode from the bliss.

When he was finished, he held her close, and as the silence descended, so did the darkness.

“I dreamed of bleeding walls,” she said, and his jaw tightened. “What does it mean?”

His arms tightened around her as he answered. “It is a warning.”

“A warning of what?”

“I don't know,” he said and finally met her gaze.
Within his eyes, she saw his dread and felt it in her own heart.

When Persephone woke, she thought she saw a crimson haze from the corner of her eye and turned her head with a quick snap only to find the morning sun warming the windows. She took a shuddering breath and tried to calm her racing heart.

“Are you well?” Hades asked.

She turned to look at him, wondering if he noticed her fright. She shifted closer, melting into his warmth. If she could, she would stay here forever, but that was not possible for either of them.

Today, Aphrodite would announce the funeral games, and Persephone would return to work. She, Sybil, and Leuce had been working on a piece for
The Advocate
that would provide a detailed timeline of the atrocities committed by Triad and their Impious followers.

In the face of Theseus's accusations, they hoped it would demonstrate his hypocrisy and undermine his call to cease worshiping the gods.

As much as Persephone believed in this work, in the importance of exposing injustice, she feared retaliation, not against her but against everyone she loved.

Hades had the same fear early in their relationship and now, in the aftermath of Zofie's death and Sybil and Harmonia's kidnapping and torture, she understood his worry in a way she wished she never knew.

“It feels wrong,” she said. “To…attempt this
normalcy
when so many are suffering.”

Hades's thumb stroked across her upper arm. She
focused on the feel of his touch, distracting her from the static anxiety in her chest.

“If we do nothing, we cease to live,” Hades said. “And if we cease to live, Theseus wins.”

They were harsh words, but she knew they were true.

“Where will you be today?” Even as she asked the question, she wondered if he would tell her the truth or avoid answering altogether.

“I will visit Hephaestus,” he said. “We have long planned for the need to arm our followers in battle.”

Persephone stiffened at his words.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said, her voice a half whisper, but in truth, it was the first time he had talked about equipping their worshippers for battle. “I just…do not think I imagined that this fight would extend beyond us, beyond the gods.”

“Theseus has riled the masses,” said Hades. “When we clash, they will too.”