For the Love of Hades (The Loves of Olympus) (18 page)

Yet she had been gone too long. No message had come, no news as to her whereabouts. He’d sent his men, those few that remained, to find her. But she’d vanished.

Had she spoken the truth? Had Poseidon wearied of coming to her aid?

Did it matter?

He sighed, the slight motion forcing pure agony through his entire body.

“My lord,” Kadmos spoke, his words startling Erysichthon. It would be all too easy for one of his enemies to defeat him now. If he cared.

Erysichthon stared in the direction of the man’s voice. He blinked, narrowing his eyes in an attempt to focus. Kadmos, a large dark figure, bobbed then faded before Erysichthon. He sighed, blinking again and again. “Did you bring it?”

Kadmos’ voice was low. “I did, but…”

“Give it to me.” He reached out, taking the metal handle with an unsteady hand. “You do me honor by staying with me, Kadmos. You and Barak are the best of men. Go now, and do not return. I command it.”

Barak’s voice boomed, “We will stay with you.”

He shook his head. “You will do as I demand. Find Ione. Keep her safe. She will need looking after.”

There was silence then, one he hoped meant their acquiescence.

“Go,” he murmured. “Go and do my bidding this last time.”

He blinked, his vision clearing long enough to see their dark shapes moving further from him. He had no hope of seeing her again, but he would give her all he had. Kadmos and Barak were all that remained of his vast court. How quickly his people had turned from him. Did they think he’d meant to leave his men untended on the battlefield? His hate knew no bounds. Those men, loyal to him, had been left to rot. None had funeral rites, none given passage to the Underworld. Because of Hades… Because of Demeter. He was no less a victim than those who fell to the Persians.

But no more.

He sat, gripping the knife’s handle, willing the strength to do what must be done.

The fire snapped, echoing in the empty hall. His stomach growled, forcing him to his knees as the pain rolled over him again and again.

“I curse you, Goddess,” he hissed to the empty room. “I curse you to an eternity of suffering.” He sat heavily, too weary to try to stand. “As you have cursed me.”

Demeter… It was her fault. She’d done this to him, made him too weak to search for Persephone. She’d crippled him so. He could not take more than a few steps before his own bile rose up to choke him. Such spasms made him retch violently or his bowels empty uncontrollably. He could not seek revenge. Not in this body.

But without it.

He smiled, taking the handle in both hands.

Cutting his leg was easy. He no longer feared pain. He knew what he must do; Demeter had told him as much. She would see him die at his own hand, feasting on his own flesh. He saw no reason to delay such an end. The strip of flesh he sliced from his thigh felt no different from any other cut of meat. True it was not braised in onions, or charred on a spit over a fire to roast. But it was meat nonetheless. Meat that his body craved above all things.

He blinked, but his vision did not clear.

Perhaps it was easier this way. Not seeing it, not knowing what he bit into. But once his teeth tore into the flesh, he did not care. The taste was too much, more potent and delicious than any meal he’d partaken. He gobbled it down, cutting more, larger and deeper than the first.

He felt the warmth of his own blood pooling on the floor beneath him. A chill touched him.

“You will never rest easy, Demeter. For my death frees me from your curse. But you…” He swayed, feeling lightheaded as he hacked into his other leg. “You will never be free of me.”

He rested, listing to his side and propping himself upon his elbow. He ate quickly, his hunger consuming him anew.

But he did not have the strength to cut again, his arms were too heavy. His lungs seemed to shrink, drawing in a breath too shallow. He gasped, but could draw nothing in.

“I will never give her up. Never. Persephone is mine…” He cried out, emptying his lungs. He fell back, fighting. His heart thrashed, pumping erratically, searching escape from his chest. He could not lift his hands, he could only lie still. His breath was gone, his eyes feeling tight, his skin heavy. Panic rose, fear gripped him. And the cold… If he’d had the strength, he would shiver. He could not escape… He lay, feeling the darkness pressing more heavily upon him.

And then there was nothing.

The room was quiet, save the crackling of the fire.

How much time passed, how long it took for the spirit to separate from his flesh, he did not know. Gone was the weakness. Gone was the hunger.

He stood, fluid and quick, to stare into the lifeless eyes of his own body. Blood covered the floor, spilled from the gaping holes he’d carved into his legs. He shook his head, the sensation light and insubstantial. He stared at his hands as he stretched his fingers toward the firelight.

In the dim light, he seemed to fade and thin – a vaporous shade. But in the shadows, he felt alive and strong once more. He stepped back, beyond the glow of the dying embers, and welcomed the weight of the shadows. His hands fisted as he peered around what had once been a lavish and abundant home. Now, it was his tomb.

He had no time for such thoughts, for such idle bitterness. He had precious little time. He was free, for now. But Thanatos would come for him, soon.

And he would lead Hades’ messenger on a long and merry chase while he exacted his revenge upon Demeter… Olympus… all who would stop him from claiming his love, his Persephone.

Hades stirred at Persephone’s side, but the gentle rhythm of his breath and heaviness of his body assured her he slept still. He was tired, as he should be… as she should be. But she was not, not in the least.

She could not ignore the nervousness that threatened her happiness. She had seduced him… most thoroughly. In truth, she’d seduced him first but what followed had been of mutual accord. It had been a night like no other. And her body ached deliciously. She felt fulfilled, yet swollen and needy.

Looking at him now, she knew she’d always crave him this way.

Morning was finally upon them, the start of a new day for them both. And now that she knew who he was, what he was to her, she would not lose him. She’d simply thought she loved him before. She’d had no idea. He completed her, her heart, soul and body, everything about him, his goodness, his loyalty, his duty, his humor… and now this blissful physical joining.

She would not give him up. She could not.

She whispered, “Are you awake?”

His eyes fluttered open, confused, then troubled. She sighed, watching his face stiffen and his body tighten as he woke fully. Gone was the smiling face and freedom of their night.

She shook her head, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Is it so miserable to find me in your bed?” The rise and fall of his chest was unsteady, she noted. It was something.

He whispered, “No.”

She smiled brightly at him, delighted by his quick answer. “Then I bid you good morning.”

He shook his head but a small smile found his lips. “Kalimera to you, Persephone.”

She let her eyes fall to his lips, his slight smile widening beneath her gaze. She met his eyes then leaned closer to press her lips to his.

His hand caught her hair, stilling her. She leaned into his touch and met his eyes. That furrow, so slight it was almost invisible, marred his forehead. She placed her hand upon his chest, the throb of his rapid heartbeat palpable beneath her palm. Her fingers stroked him, before splaying to lay her hand flat upon his chest. His nostrils flared and his hand tightened in her hair. He did not push her away, or pull her close. He did not release her.

The beat of his heart accelerated, emboldening her to whisper, “You love me.”

His eyes widened as he looked up at her. “You should not say such things.”

“No? Fine then, I know the truth of it whether or not you speak the words aloud.” She touched his cheek, meeting his blue-black eyes without flinching.

His hold eased. “I cannot.”

She leaned down and kissed him, a soft quick kiss. “You can, Hades. Your heart will be well treasured by me.”

He took a breath, speaking more firmly. “Such words… such feelings are fleeting…”

“If they fade, it was never love.”

He sighed. “You’ve much to say for one with such slight experience.”

She knew he was right. But she could not stop herself from defending what was in her heart. “Yet you would malign us, the goodness that is happening here, by your previous… alliance.”

His brow arched and his smile grew mocking. “Alliance?”

She felt her cheeks grow hot. “Your…”

“My marriage… You refer to my marriage?”

She answered him quickly. “It was most… unfortunate.”

His sudden burst of laughter startled her, and relieved her. Her words were thoughtless. He had every right to be offended. And yet he laughed. Such a laugh, beautiful and rich.

“It was, indeed.” His smile transformed him, making him even more handsome to her delighted eyes. “But I was married, Persephone.”

She took her time, soaking in the warmth of his smile. “I’m not so naïve as you think. I know love is a rare exception, even in marriage.” She smoothed a midnight lock from his forehead, finding the courage to go on. “I know she didn’t love you as I do. She didn’t love you as you deserve.”

Hades swallowed, pleasing her with his flustered expression and rising color.

“I did little to encourage her affections, withholding my time and attention…”

“Your time? Attention? What of your love?” She wanted to know. Had he loved her? Or was it as Hermes said? Had it been his pride, and not his heart, that had been so devastated? She didn’t know which would be worse, for him… and for her.

He said nothing, but his eyes bore into hers before slipping to her mouth.

She smiled.

He reached up to cup her cheek, shaking his head slightly. “I know nothing of love, Persephone.”

His words sliced through her. She did not worry that she could teach him love. That would be a joyous task. But she was sad that such a task was hers. He’d lived too long without knowing the blessings and comfort of love, even that of brotherly love, and she ached for his solitude. She placed her palm on his chest, looking at her sun-kissed hand upon his alabaster skin. His heart raced beneath her hand, giving her hope. They may have a chasm of differences between them, but it was not enough to stop her. She wanted him to be hers, irrefutably and for all times.

“Then let us learn of it together.”

“I cannot,” he repeated, gruff.

“Shh. In time, you might.” She placed a finger over his lips, shuddering as his lips kissed her fingertip. She removed her hand, placing it upon his chest once more. His heart thumped all the more. “Your heart tells me all I need to know.”

“When you…tire of me, of
this
, you are free to go.” His words were soft. “You owe me nothing, nor I you.”

She scowled at him, irritated at his quick dismissal. And he laughed again, the sound of it filling his chamber and her heart.

She slid from his hold, stretching as she stood. She wondered if she looked changed. She felt it. And she savored every ache, every surprising tug and soreness. He had left his mark upon her, and she was pleased by it. Did he look upon her? She grew nervous. Was he pleased by the sight of her nakedness? She’d been told she was lovely; she wanted him to think so.

“I’m hungry, my lord.” She glanced at him. He was watching her, most intently.
Good
.

His voice wavered, “Are you?”

She nodded, thrilled by the tightness of his mouth and the rigid line of his jaw. “And a bath? Better yet, is there a lake suitable for such things? A swim would be most welcome.”

His eyes traveled the length of her, making her body tighten and rise in welcome. She heard his sudden intake of breath and wondered at it. She had no wish to keep her heart’s desire from him. Her body, it seemed, felt the same. Should she? Was her behavior wanton? Anxiety rose, forcing her to seek out her discarded peplos. She found it, a forgotten heap, in the corner. She stooped, grasping the linen in her hand and shaking it out.

When she turned, she jumped. He was there.

He pulled the peplos from her hands and reached for her. His body and face were rigid, fraught with need. Smiling, she pressed herself against his bare form. He stared at her, his mouth finding and parting her lips without mercy. She swayed against him, stunned by his hunger for her. And her need for him. The desperation to join, to embrace him with her body, was sudden. His hands lifted her and she wrapped her legs about his waist.

The cool stone of the wall pressed into her back, while his hands tightly gripped her thighs.

She’d no breath in her lungs when he thrust up and into her. She whimpered as he entered her, her legs tightening about him. Her eyes met his and held. Between the cold marble at her back and the heat of his chest, the depth of his invasion, she could only feel. She held on to him, his every movement racking her with pure sensation. His hands cupped her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh. She sucked in breath, his hands, his body, their rhythm, bringing her to a violent climax. She cried out as his body stiffened against her. He pressed his face against her throat, groaning brokenly.

Little was said afterward. She was too stunned, her body so drained she feared she would not manage to stand. He was equally dazed, though his hands held her close. Her legs spasmed, forcing her to lean into him. He turned, pressing a kiss to her forehead as he stepped away from the wall.

Her heart still raced. Her lungs still ached. She throbbed… pleasantly. She smiled as he held her, letting her find her footing before he released her. He held her, ever so lightly, about her waist.

“Which is greater? Your hunger or the want of a bath?” He regarded her with an unreadable expression.

She arched one eyebrow pointedly. “My appetite is appeased… A bath is all I require.”

A small smile pulled up the corner of his lips and he shook his head. It was an expression she was becoming infinitely familiar with. And extremely fond of.

He shook out the peplos before handing it to her. “There’s a hot spring on the mountain.” She took the peplos, watching him knot the fabric of his chlamys about his waist. The line of his back, the breadth of his shoulders, the slight curl of his raven curls at the base of his skull, a fine sight to be sure.

It took her some time to wrap her own peplos. She pulled and tucked to the best of her ability, but the seams were ripped. When she was covered, she took his free hand in hers, looking at him with a joyful smile. He glanced at their hands, but did not loose himself from her hold. She squeezed his hand, making him smile reluctantly.

She followed him down the tunnels, through several cavernous chambers, into the main hall and out the front doors. He gave her no time to pause, but turned back towards the mountain and set off along the narrow path that hugged the steep mountain face.

When they reached the top, she stared out over his home. She’d never expected the Land of the Dead to be so tranquil, or so very lovely. But then, she’d never thought she would love the Lord of the Dead as dearly as she did.

###

“It is not how I imagined the Underworld, you know.” Persephone lay on her stomach while her eyes peered across the far-reaching recesses of his realm.

“There is a bleaker, darker side to my realm, Persephone.” Hades’ eyes moved down the length of her back, tracing the curve of her buttock and the firm strength of her thighs. For a man so recently sated, he felt the fire of passion warm his blood rather quickly.

She turned to him, drawing his attention to the delights of her face. “Is it horrid? Tartarus?”

He studied her, absorbing her features. Her green eyes waited, wide and curious. Her mouth, such soft full lips, parted slightly beneath his gaze. The freckles that topped her narrow nose and cheeks were playful, making her no less seductive. Even here, beneath his weak and milky sun, she seemed to glow.

“That horrid?” she gasped, taking his silence as his answer.

He nodded. It was.

She slid closer to him, pressing along the length of him. He did not resist her, but drew her closer. She felt warm, the only warmth he’d ever known.

She rested her chin on her folded hands. “Still, it is beautiful here.”

Her words surprised him. She thought his realm beautiful?

Elysium was a vibrant jewel upon the brilliant sea. An island of bounty and harmony, it was the most removed from the Underworld, the best of the Land of the Living with none of its frailties. Below them, Asphodel’s wheat blew in waves, golden and brown. She could not see Tartarus’ entrance, hidden behind an outcrop of rock. Without knowing what lay within that portal, his realm might be considered as she described it.

“In its way, I suppose,” he agreed as his attention returned to her.

“Asphodel reminds me of the plains of Larissa or the lands west of Athens,” she said.

She was beautiful, too beautiful to resist. He reached forward, smoothing the hair from her forehead. His hand slipped to the side of her face, savoring the feel of her against him.

She smiled at him and the pulling within his chest grew sharp.

A chorus of barks filled the air, drawing her eyes from his.

She watched the hounds. “There are no birds, no cows, no animals save your horses and hounds. I know why you keep the horses, what their purpose is. Do the hounds serve you as well?”

Hades glanced at the dogs. “They are Cerberus when I have need of him. They are hunters, when Thanatos calls. They are hounds, when at play.”

The hounds ran, snapping playfully at one another. The smallest fell behind, glancing in their direction with golden eyes.

“He fancies you.” Hades’ voice was soft. “It was he that brought me to you in Thessaly.” He did not tell her that he’d left Theron with her. He did not tell her that Theron would have stayed with her with or without his consent. Theron was most devoted to his master, and the hound chose Persephone as his. Hades could find little to fault in the animal’s choice.

She nodded. “I shall remember that when next he’s at my side.”

“That he feels a sense of loyalty to you is…” Hades grew silent, considering his words.

“He cares for me, something he, like his master, finds a flaw versus a gift?”

Hades sighed loudly. “He would not think it a weakness. He’s always been loyal.”

“Always? Has he been with you so long, in your realm?”