For the Love of Hades (The Loves of Olympus) (15 page)

She looked at the horse, then at Hades. “Enough? And the hounds?”

Hades’ frown grew. “All creatures of the night, those that move in shadow. They are loyal to me, my… ghosts.”

Persephone nodded. “To earn such loyalty, they must respect you.”

“Or fear me.” His face hardened then.

She shook her head, “Fear you? Animals, like the plants, know the worth of a soul.”

Hades looked away from her. She saw the muscle in his cheek tighten, but he said no more.

The horse snorted, blowing hard. His breath lifted her hair, sending her curls over her shoulder. She laughed and stroked the animal. “Such a beautiful creature.”

Again, the horse pushed against her.

She looked at Hades. “Can I ride him?”

He closed his eyes, a crease appearing between his inky brows. “I see no objection from the animal.”

“But you object?”

“He’s a charger, Persephone. A war horse. He’s not ridden for pleasure, only purpose.” His words were uttered without inflection, “I worry over your injury.”

To hear those words spoken with feeling… she could only imagine such delight. Instead she said, “Then I will not.”

He stared at her, the crease returned to his brow, drawing a smile to her lips.

The horse nudged her.

She laughed, stroking the horses soft nuzzle. “Shh, another time.”

She watched Hades. Bewilderment crossed his face as he looked from the horse to her.

“Where are the others?” she asked him.

His eyes narrowed as he searched. “Close. Rarely do they part company.”

She nodded. “And the hounds?”

“Guard the entrance to the Underworld. A rest after so long at Thanatos’ command.”

“Thanatos?” She shivered. She had yet to see the specter of death.

Hades moved on, his voice flat. “He hunts only those for Tartarus. You’ll not find him here.”

She nodded, relieved, and stepped forward, with Orphnaeus at her heels. She whispered to the horse, delighted by her new companion. “Shall I find you a treat?”

“There are orchards.” Hades pointed.

She glanced at him, surprised. “Truly? Did you hear that, Orphnaeus? Shall we find you an apple?”

The horse whinnied, ears pricking forth.

She laughed. “I think he agrees?” she asked Hades a bit breathlessly.

Hades moved quickly, gripping her about the waist and setting her atop the horse before she could react. But her skin tingled from the slight contact, making her heart pick up and her lungs empty. He surprised her further when he swung up behind her, his arms enfolding her and pulling her against his chest.

Hades hissed, his knees pressing against the horse’s sides. The horse responded instantly, tearing forward with such force that Persephone feared she’d slip off. But Hades’ arms anchored her, one hand pressed against her belly. She drew in an unsteady breath, the heat of his fingers branding her.

The horse slowed almost as soon as they had started, easing from a rolling gallop to an easy trot. Hades’ knees guided the animal, the flex of each muscle having the most alarming effect on her.

“Apples,” he offered, easing Orphnaeus beneath the drooping limbs of the fruit tree.

She knew better than to speak; her heart was surely lodged within her throat. So she reached up, hoping the tremor of her arm was lost upon him.

Her fingers grasped the satin red skin of the apple, twisting the stem until the tree released its fruit. She stared at the fruit, while her body seemed to hum – attuned only to him. His hand moved slightly, his thumb pressing in against the skin beneath her breast. Then he slipped from the horse and reached for her.

She blinked. His deep blue eyes waited beneath the furrow of his brow.

“Persephone?” he asked.

She nodded, placing her hand upon his shoulder and allowing him to lift her. Her feet reached the ground, but she did not want to release him. His hands remained, steadying her.

It would take no effort to kiss him. He held her already. All she need do was raise up on her tiptoe–

Orphnaeus’ head descended between them, his nose butting against Hades’ chest to reach the apple pressed between them. His teeth plucked the red apple from her hand, piercing its skin and crushing it in seconds. Juice spattered her hand and arm, making her burst into laughter.

Hades laughed too, his fingers brushing the fruit pulp from her arm and cheek.

“He is a brute after all,” she said, shaking the bits of apple from her fingers.

Hades smoothed a curl from her shoulder, his face growing remote once more. He lifted his hand and she drew in breath. She knew he would kiss her. He would draw her close, he wanted too. She could see it in his eyes, in the rigid set of his jaw–

Orphnaeus butted her between the shoulders, snorting.

“One is not enough.” Hades stepped back, reaching for another apple and plucking it with ease. She offered it to the horse, who gobbled it down and snorted indignantly into her empty hand.

Hades picked more, and the two fed the horse in companionable silence. Yet all the while, Persephone savored the memory of Hades’ thighs pressed against hers, the strength of his chest against her back… And quivered with some nameless sensation.

He offered her another apple, but Orphnaeus seemed content.

She brought the bright skinned fruit to her lips. “It should not go to waste.”

The strangest expression settled over him. His eyes widened, then narrowed. His mouth opened, then pressed tightly closed. When the skin of the fruit met her lips, he knocked it free.

The fruit tumbled to the ground and Orphnaeus devoured it.

Persephone stared at Hades. “Hades–”

“You cannot eat the food of the Underworld,” Hades snapped, running a hand through his thick black hair. His eyes flashed as he glared down at her. “Never. Do you understand?”

She nodded, her mind reeling with confusion. “But–”

“No,” he shook his head, his hands clasping her upper arms. “You must not. I fear the consequences of such a thing.”

“’Tis an apple,” she protested.

His mouth twitched, but his fingers tightened about her arms. “An apple grown here, in the realm of the Dead. It is by the Fates’ decree…”

She touched his cheek. “Peace, Hades. I will not eat. I need no more explanation than that.”

But she wondered at the wariness upon his face as he urged them to return to his home.

###

“I cannot, Father.” Ione grasped his hands, kneeling in front of Erysichthon. “Please, please do not make me do this.”

 “Make you?” His words were hard. “Where is the dutiful daughter I raised? After what I have done for you… Need I remind you of my generosity, child? Remind you that I took you in when your husband discarded you?”

“He discarded me for fear of incurring Olympus’ wrath. After you cut Demeter’s trees he had no choice–”

 “So you blame me for his weakness?” He pulled his hands from hers and stood. Was no one faithful anymore? Did none value fealty? “You would desert me too?” Erysichthon did not look at her. “My own daughter?”

His eyes swept the room. Leaves blew across the unkempt marble floor. The candles had long since burned down, leaving the room in shadows, but no servants remained to change them. No one was left to serve him. Those soldiers that had returned he’d sent searching, always searching…

He winced as his empty belly clenched. He turned, staring at the weariness on his once beloved child’s face.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Father.” She stood, coming to his side. Her face was thinner, her eyes shadowed. “I’ve done all that you’ve asked of me, have I not?”

He nodded, his hand cupping her cheek. “You are a good daughter, Ione, when you choose to be.”

Her lower lip wavered then, reminding him of Persephone. Could he find no reprieve from her memory? He shook his head, groaning as his bowels twisted within him.

“I am a good daughter. Your daughter,” she cried, her voice hitching. “Flesh of your flesh, your only child... and you sell me… for…for bread and wine…”

“I must keep my strength and wits about me.” He scowled at her.

“There must be another way–”

“I’ve never sold you for whoring, Ione, only as servant. You’ve no need to act so affronted. You should be pleased. I never thought you capable of finding a champion in Poseidon…” He broke off, the ache in his stomach overwhelming him.

“He is no
champion
.” Her voice was bitter. “He demands payment, I assure you.” She grabbed his arm, steadying him as he bent low from the spasms.

He smiled, amused. “You are… a comely woman, Ione. If Poseidon wants you–”

Her voice trembled. “He did, when first we met. He had certain… expectations of me once he’d helped me leave that brutal fisherman’s wife. But when he knew who I was, whose daughter I was…” She shook her head. “It troubled him to look at me.”

“And yet, he helps you still.” Erysichthon sighed, growing annoyed with his daughter’s complaints.

“And each time his patience thins; I see it. Three times he’s returned me to you… I’d almost welcome his advances if it replaced the anger within him–”

“Then you must try harder. Soothe him. Woo him, entice him, seduce him, child. He will help you again.” Erysichthon cut her off, pulling his arm from her hold. “One last time, for I know where Persephone is.”

Ione froze. “Truly?”

He nodded, smiling. “This will be the last time, I promise. Once she is returned, all will be well. You will see.”

The sympathy in his daughter’s eyes irked him. He needed no pity.

“Persephone will speak to her mother?” Ione asked doubtfully. “See the curse removed?”

“She will.” He spat out the words, scowling at her. “Why do you question me so, child? When have I ever failed you? When? Never. Even now, when times are… troubled, have you not returned to me each time, in good health?”

She nodded.

“Then give me thanks. Honor me. It is through my
suffering
that you’ve found a lover in the God of the Seas himself. My daughter, favored by the great Poseidon.”

She shook her head. “As I said, he does not favor me... He said he must help me to ease his part in this matter…”

“What matter?”

“He did not say. And I dare not question him, not when he has come to my aid.” Her lovely face looked haggard. “I dare not rouse the fury I see within his pale gaze, Father. He frightens me–”

“Frightens you? A robust lover, then?” He smiled, patting her cheek. “He favors you or he would not continue to help you.” He nodded, regarding his daughter with narrowed eyes. “And you would be wise submit to him again and hold his interest as long as you can.” His hands pressed against his stomach, the pain forcing another groan from him.

She stared at him with wide eyes. “Look at you, Father. Look at what has become of us. Of your people… Our home. Thessaly is ravaged, as is your body… and mind. I have lost my husband through your blasphemy.” Her tone was pleading. “I have lost my pride, sold into servitude three times, and… used by Poseidon to appease your hunger. And now you would encourage me to sacrifice my dignity again… For what?”

“You complain like an old woman. It’s unlike you. And will not help you keep your Poseidon.” He clasped her shoulders. “You shall have your God and I shall have my Goddess, soon.”

She shook her head. “Where is she, then? Where is your precious Persephone? And why haven’t you gone to get her yet?”

He ignored her disbelief and patted her cheek. “She is with Hades. It was he who took her from me on the battlefield.”

She stared at him. “Hades? You cannot go… How will you bring her home?”

He smiled, rubbing his hands together. “Find me food, Ione, and I will tell you my plan.”

###

“I am victor.” Persephone beamed at Hades.

He’d not let her win, this time. She was quick, grasping the game and trouncing him gleefully. He sat back with a smile. “You are.”

She sat forward, setting her elbow on the table and resting her chin in her hand. She moved the small carved gray pieces back into place. Her braid fell forward, brushing his hand on the game board before she looked up at him. “Shall we play again?”

His hand burned. He shook his head. “Enough Tavli.”

“Shall we walk?”

It infuriated him to know he would be happy to sit here, staring into her green eyes. How easily she’d come to be the most important part of his day… He leaned into the side of his chair, watching her fingers move over the game pieces. She was the reason he woke, full of anticipation, each morning. He was too eager to spend time with her. He savored their walks or their quiet companionship. Everything about her pleased him. Her presence eased some ache within him, an ache that he’d always known, causing him much bewilderment… and exhilaration.

“Shall I sing for you?” She placed the last piece then sat back, tucking her knees under her.

He cocked his head. “What would you sing of?”