For the Love of Hades (The Loves of Olympus) (13 page)

She blinked, turning to him and shaking her head. “I suspect you took very good care of me. And I thank you, Hades, for … caring for me.”

He said nothing.

She lay back, resting carefully on her side. Her arms were unsteady as she drew the furs higher. “Why?”

He scowled.

She laughed.

He smiled.

“Forgive me the question.” She shook her head.

“Does it surprise you that I am capable of such things?” His voice was low.

She glanced up at him, her green eyes sparkling. “No. Not in the least. Why would you ask such a thing?”

He would ignore the lightness in his chest. He would ignore the desire to smile. He turned towards the fire.

Her voice was soft. “I fear I must be a sight. I need to bathe.”

Images of her, warm and soft against him in sleep, flooded him. Her sighs, her smells, the feel of her pressed tightly against him, clutched his chest.

He turned. “I will have a bath delivered.”

Her eyes held his.

He nodded then left the room.

###

“The water is warm, Persephone.” He was speaking to her, looking down at her with his midnight blue eyes. And she could do nothing more than stare at him. He was so beautiful.

“My thanks,” she murmured. Had she fallen asleep? And now a steaming tub waited for her. She smiled in delight.

He cleared his throat. “Shall I leave you?”

Her stomach tightened. No, he should stay. He should climb into the bath with her. If she were her mother, or the nymphs, she’d know how to entice him. But she was not.

“Do you need assistance?” he asked.

She pushed herself from the furs, wobbling a bit as she did. The room spun, so she waited until it stopped, then stood slowly. “I think I can…” Her side pulled sharply, causing her to gasp and cover it.

He lifted her, carrying her to the tub and setting her into the water before she could respond. She blinked at him in surprise, seeing his nostrils flare and the rapid rise and fall of his chest. “My thanks.”

He nodded tightly. “I shall wait.” He crossed the room and pulled back the thick linens. A stream of pale sunlight spread across the floor, startling her.

She had not expected sun here. Her mother had said it was eternal darkness.

She peered beyond him at, yes; a large balcony. He glanced back at her before going to stand upon it.

She watched him. His back was straight and his head held high. And then he grasped the railing and his shoulders drooped, his head falling forward. He carried too many burdens upon his shoulders. They were broad shoulders, strong and sure. But he did not have to bear all alone.

Was she one of them? She frowned.

It took an effort to untie her peplos. She was weak and the fabric was soaked through. When she managed to remove it, she dropped it over the edge of the tub. It slapped loudly upon the stone floor.

She sighed, resting her head against edge of the tub.

Her mind spun. Long days of sleep and dreams blurred with what she thought were memories. But could they be? Surely not. Such dreams were too sweet to be real. And yet, she could imagine the feel of him pressed against her in sleep. She could smell him and…

Be brave.
How many times had he whispered those words to her? He had, she knew it. It was no dream. She leaned forward, glancing at him. How she longed to hear him whisper to her again.

She washed, the soap he’d left smelling of him, spiced richly, musk and earth. She took a deep breath, drawing in the heady scent. She wet her hair, but her arms began to shake. She lathered the soap, but could not manage it alone.

“Hades?” she called, at once timid and excited.

He entered the room, his eyes upon her face.

“Is there someone… someone to help me?” she stammered. “I cannot… manage my hair.”

He nodded and crossed the room. She sat forward, drawing her knees up and resting her chin atop them.

She had not expected his hands to sluice through the water, catching her hair. He lathered it gently, kneading her scalp with firm fingers. She moaned, and he stilled.

“You’d make a fine attendant.” She sighed in pleasure.

He laughed softly, making her heart swell with happiness, and returned to his work.

She leaned into his hands, letting him tilt her head first to the left, then to the right. His hand rested on the base of her neck, and she felt her body respond. Even now, weak and tired, her body ached for his touch.

He poured water over her hair, twisting it to ring out the soap. His hands cupped her forehead, lightly pressing all the way down the length of her hair until the soap was gone.

“Done.” His voice was hoarse.

She turned, looking at him. Could a man be beautiful? She could think of no other word for him. She felt such pleasure, dazzling warmness from deep inside of her. “Thank you.”

His jaw clenched as he nodded.

Did she dare stand? Was she brazen enough to use feminine wiles after all? Her eyes searched his. And she stood slowly, wobbling. “Will you…”

His eyes were round, but he moved quickly. He wrapped one of his own chlamys about her and lifted her out, carrying her to the chair before the fire.

His hands returned to her hair, brushing through the locks with a finely toothed comb.

“Is there no one else to tend me?” she asked. Her body was aflame. And his every touch, his hands lifting her hair, his fingers brushing her neck, heightened her awareness of him.

He stilled, and she glanced back at him.

His face was impassive. “I will find someone more pleasing.”

“You mistake me, Hades.” She shook her head, overwhelmed by his closeness. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’ve no desire to send you away, none. I meant no offense. But I know you’ve more important matters than smoothing my hair. If you’ve no such responsibilities to manage, I beg you, stay and continue.” Her cheeks grew hot at such an admission. “Your touch is a comfort.”

His eyes widened.

She smiled. “I vowed honesty. You shall have it.” She’d said too much. And while she would declare her love instantly, she knew he was not ready to learn the truth yet. He would learn, in time, he was hers. She was careful with her next words, teasing, “You are uncommonly gifted as an attendant.”

He shook his head. “I shall tell the Fates so that they might release me to serve you so.”

She laughed, delighted. More delighted when he smiled in return.

“Each day brings us closer. I think,” Persephone said, glancing at Hermes.

Hermes nodded. “You are happy.”

“I worry that what I want colors what
is
. I
want
him to be fond of me. I
want
him to enjoy our time together. When we are together, we speak and laugh and walk together. And I want those things to mean something to him.”

Hermes patted her hand, resting in the crook of his arm. “He would be a fool not to enjoy such times.”

She shook her head. “You’ve no need to flatter me, Hermes.”

“I did not mean to flatter you.” He grinned. “You are a most unique woman, Persephone. You speak plainly. It can be quite disconcerting.”

“Perhaps too plainly.” She glanced up at him. “I fear I lack my mother’s art of seduction…”

“Artifice would not suit you,” he assured her.

“That’s a relief,” she admitted.

He laughed.

“What other news? Hades spoke of a great battle, one that might end war with the Persians?”

Hermes nodded. “The war will end soon enough, though man’s fickle nature will see another soon enough.”

“Is it man’s nature alone that’s fickle, Hermes?” she teased.

He shook his head.

“And Greece? Athens?” she asked.

“Greece lost many sons, but will recover. Athens was burned and looted, forcing all Athenians to flee. Yet they work tirelessly to rebuild. Even now, Athens rises from the ashes, a white city. Athena will build the grandest temple in all of Greece, or so she’s declared, to remind Athens of their victory and survival.”

“How did Poseidon take such a proclamation?” She suspected she knew the answer.

“He had no objection,” Hermes said with a shrug. “But his mischief sometimes takes some time to reveal itself.”

She nodded. “How fares my mother?”

“She misses you.” Hermes’ face grew pained, but he smiled suddenly. “She will be pleased to see you return to her.”

Persephone sighed. “Soon, I would imagine.”

“You don’t sound pleased?”

She glanced at Hermes, admitting, “I will miss him.”

Hermes was silent as they walked across the fields.

“I would stay with him, Hermes. I love him so.” She stopped, forcing him to look at her as she asked, “Does he have no affection for me?”

Hermes glanced at her. “You know why he keeps himself from you?”

She looked at him, confused.

“He was married.”

Persephone turned to him, her heart in her throat.

“Many years ago, mind you. She was a mortal. I remember little about her. She was cruel to him, refusing to come here, to his realm.”

“Why?” How could a woman turn from Hades?

“She cared for another.” Hermes grew somber. “You know of Hades’…
fondness
for Poseidon?”

“But… but Hades is his brother.” She could hardly speak the words.

“Poseidon is…” Hermes fell silent, shrugging. “Poseidon.”

“Poseidon was pardoned?” She stared at Hermes, feeling an angry flush steal over her.

“Hades wanted it forgotten. Their reign was new. He knew the importance of harmony and balance.” Hermes shook his head. “He, above all others, holds to his responsibility.”

She could not speak. Did she dare to tempt him now? He was wary and cautious of his heart, with good reason. To be rejected by one’s love was devastating, but to be betrayed by one’s wife and brother?

She forced the words from her lips. It made a difference. “Did he love her?”

Hermes looked at her. “I cannot know. As I said, it was long ago. Surely, his pride was wounded, for his word is a vow. And she broke their vows, in every way possible.”

She looked at Hermes, unable to stop the tears from spilling over. “What evil lies in the hearts of some? I cannot fathom it. That his own brother could…” She wiped the tears from her face.

“Rest assured, Persephone, he cares for you,” Hermes murmured.

Persephone gaze wandered from Hermes, then beyond him.

Hades approached, the scowl on his face growing when his gaze settled upon her.

She sniffed, wiping the tears from her cheeks. And still they fell. Seeing him, his stern face and formidable presence, her heart broke for him. How she longed to wrap her arms about him, to soothe the torment he surely still endured. His heart, though he might deny he had one, was strong and true. And she would honor him, if he would let her.

He stopped before her, the slightest crease of his brow revealing his concern. “What ails you, Persephone?”

She shook her head, unable to speak.

Hades looked at Hermes, the crease deepening. “Hermes?”

“Her side,” Hermes spoke quickly. “She said it pained her.”

Persephone glanced at Hermes. How easily he lied. Now Hades would worry over her, something he’d done enough of. But she could not refute Hermes, or share the truth. She feared Hades would set her further from him.

“You need rest.” Hades’ blue-black eyes swept her face, stirring both her delight and guilt. He moved forward and swung her into his arms.

She swallowed, wrapping her arms about his neck and gazing at him. If she were able, she would right his past and erase such suffering.

“It’s too soon to send her back yet, Hades,” Hermes said. “Let it be, for now. She’s not ready for such a journey. I will take her home soon enough.”

Persephone glanced back and forth between them. “Is that why you’re here, Hermes? To take me home?” Her voice trembled. She turned tear-filled eyes back to Hades. “Are you so eager to be rid of me?”

Hades face hardened, but he nodded once. “You do not belong here.”

She began to cry in earnest, not bothering to cover her face.

Hades set off, carrying her to the house with long strides.

“She is overwrought.” Hermes was smiling. Persephone could hear it in his voice. “I will call again soon. Rest easy, Persephone.”

She sniffed. Why was Hermes smiling? Why had he assured her that Hades cared for her? He wanted her to leave. She sobbed.

“Shh,” Hades soothed.

She looked up at him, hiccupping.

His words slipped over her, his tone stirring her. “Be brave, Persephone.” He glanced down at her, his face stricken.

Perhaps he did care for her, but was it enough? Her tears continued as she stared at him. She loved the line of his jaw, loved the sweep of his brow above his blue-black eyes. Even knowing he meant to send her home, his presence eased her. Oh, how she would miss him, everything about him, when she was sent away.

They reached his room, hers now, and he set her on her feet. She moved from him, leaving the room to stand on the balcony. She wiped her face, wishing the tears away. If he wanted her to leave, she should go. Even if she did not want to go....

Her name was a rough whisper. “Persephone?”

She turned to him, and forgot to breathe.

All of her dreams, smoothing the crease from his brow, crawling into his lap and sweeping his midnight curls from his forehead, would go unfulfilled if he sent her away. And she would never enjoy the feel of his lips upon her, offer him the comfort of her arms, or the love of her body.

“Are you well?” He came to stand before her, his eyes searching hers.

She blinked. “I know not.”

His eyes bore into her. She met his gaze.

“What upset you so?” His voice was desperate. “Are you in pain? Suffering?”

“Hermes told me…” She paused. She had no desire to dabble in deception. Yet, she could not tell him. She swallowed, shaking her head.

“What?” His voice was hard, edged with threat.

Persephone remembered her promise to him. She would not break it now, no matter how difficult the truth might be. “He told me of… of your marriage.” She watched him closely.

His eyes narrowed, yet his words were a whisper. “And you weep?”

Persephone sniffed. “She was cruel to you…”

“What did Hermes tell you?”

She hesitated, her words falling heavily. “Very little. Only that you were betrayed by your brother… and… her.”

Hades face softened, or so it seemed. His eyes searched hers. “And you weep?”

She nodded. “Of course I weep. You are a good man…”

He held up his hand. “A good man? I near killed her. My brother gave her what I could not.”

She paused. “I don’t… I don’t understand.”

“No.”

“I would hear it from your lips, Hades,” she implored.

“Priska, daughter to one of the ruling mortal tribes, was offered to me, newly triumphant over the Titans. Zeus accepted the alliance.” He paused. “The lots were drawn amongst the
festivities
of the wedding. She went with me that night, fearful and unhappy.”

“But how…”

“She is… was mortal, Persephone.” Hades’ words stopped her, his eyes going black as he continued, “Think of those men, in the meadow. You saw what I did. What I am capable of. When I reached for her, in our marriage bed, I’d no knowledge of the new power inside of me. My hold went beyond her flesh, as it did with those villains that day. She suffered, as they did, for I had no control of my abilities, knew
nothing
of them... When I saw it was pain, not passion, that I inflicted upon her, I released her… before I’d managed to tear her soul free. But she feared me, and rightly so. I never touched her again.”

She shivered. She had no fondness or allegiance for this woman, but felt sympathy for this Priska nonetheless. And Hades. She met his gaze. How had he suffered? He would have felt this woman’s pain. Even if she’d managed to forgive him, as she must have done in time, would he have forgiven himself?

“I returned her to her father, determined to make the Titans’ caverns, dank and bleak as they were then, something bearable for her. It took time, to build this and to control my… gifts. Too much time for a mortal. Her father worried over the alliance he’d forged with me, with Olympus. So he sought Poseidon’s interest in my stead. Whether or not she was willing, I cannot say. But in time, she grew fond of my brother. I know nothing of how he felt or if he cared for her at all. When I returned, intending to bring her home, I learned the whole of it. As did Zeus. Poseidon was punished…”

“The horses?” she whispered. “The team that pulls your chariot?”

Hades nodded. “They were the very first of their kind, magnificent beasts, as wild as the ocean waves my brother modeled them after. They were – are – Poseidon’s greatest creation. And not an easy sacrifice to make, Persephone. Zeus knew forfeiting them, to me, would punish him more dearly than anything else.” He shrugged. “And Priska was told to return with me.”

“Was she pleased by her new home?”

“She never saw the Underworld.” His eyes drifted from hers, his face growing hard as he continued, “I do not remember her... But I cannot forget her voice.” He paused. “She would not come. She hated me… hated me for the pain I’d inflicted upon her. Because of him, Poseidon. She blamed me for their separation. To her,
I
sent him away.”

Persephone’s eyes filled with tears, but she said nothing. What could she say?

“Her tribe lived on the cliffs, near where Athens sits today. She threw herself from them. And by taking her own life she ensured she could not cross over.” He shrugged again. “Even in death she vowed never to be with me. She succeeded.”

Persephone could not breathe. She could not think. His words roared in her head, flooding her with agony and fury.

“She was right. Such… alliances suit my realm poorly.” He looked at her then, his features cold and unreadable.

She could listen no more. Of course he would refuse her. How could she expect anything from him now, knowing what he’d endured? Her heart convulsed. She watched him move to her, his face suddenly concerned.

“Rest easy.”

“I don’t understand.” She wrapped her arms about herself. How could a person inflict such wickedness, willingly, upon another? Persephone felt ill and strangely weak. “He… she…”

“She is gone.” His brow furrowed. “Let it go.”

“Have you?” She winced as soon as the words were out, hearing his sharp intake of breath. She had no right to ask such a thing. She was angry and hurt, but not with Hades.

Would she not lock her heart away after such an ordeal? If she’d not died from the suffering it unleashed upon her… “I’m sorry. I act as if I’m injured. I’ve no cause to snap at you. You, who’ve been gravely wronged. You endured all… You survived it...” She shook her head, a sad smile on her lips. “I am not as strong as you, that much I know.”

He regarded her silently, until she feared she would throw herself upon him. She longed to wrap her arms about him, to comfort him.

He spoke softly. “Time heals a great deal.”

“Time.” She nodded. She needed more time, with him. What happened with Priska, and his vile brother, was far worse than anything she could have imagined.