At hearing this, she looked away.
“Are you…angry?” he asked.
“Yes.” He was surprised by her honesty, surprised when she met his gaze and expressed her confusion. “But…I don’t know why exactly.”
He tried to imagine what must be going through her head, but when he found himself thinking of her fucking another man, he decided it was the wrong course of action. The thought only served to call up his violence. So he focused on the cards instead, dealing another hand.
This time, he won, and he reclined in his chair, considering the goddess before him. There was not much to commandeer, but it was not so much the taking he enjoyed. It was the tension that ignited the air between them as he considered, and she waited. Finally, he stood and Persephone straightened as he approached, neck straining to hold his gaze.
“I will take the earrings, my darling.”
She was not breathing. He knew because as he leaned toward her, her chest did not move, so as his lips brushed her ear, he whispered, “Breathe.”
And he was rewarded with her sharp exhale. He proceeded to wrap his lips around her earrings and pry them from her ears, catching the backs in his hand. Once they were out, he drew his tongue over the spot, and grazed it with his teeth, noting that her hands gripped the edge of the table.
As he returned to his seat for the next round, he prayed to the Fates who had gifted this woman, and could take her away, that this was the last round. Let me have her. Here, now, on this very table where they had agreed to bargain for clothing and answers and the rest of their lives.
Except the Fates granted no such prayer—or relief for Hades’ raging hard-on—because Persephone won.
“Your power of invisibility,” she began, eyeing him as if she expected him to be surprised that she knew. “Have you ever used it…to spy on me?”
Hades considered her question carefully, particularly the word spy. It was a word that, in this context, sounded like an accusation, and he had a feeling it didn’t come from this evening when he had lingered beside her as she explored the exhibit. That was a different sort of intimacy.
This question had its roots in the night when Hades had watched Persephone masturbate—when he, too, had pleasured himself at the sight.
In truth, he had not been using invisibility, but a different power that involved projecting the soul. Besides, could it really be called spying if she knew he was there?
“No,” he finally answered.
“And will you promise to never use invisibility to spy on me?”
It was not the only method he could use to keep tabs on her, and if he had to give one up, it might as well be invisibility. He hoped that soon, wherever she went, she would want his presence.
“I promise.”
His hands flexed over the cards as Persephone asked another question. “Why do you let people think such horrible things about you?”
As he shuffled the cards, he considered not answering, but decided he would entertain her…and distract himself from the source of his discomfort growing between his legs.
“I do not control what people think of me.”
“But you do nothing to contradict what they say about you.” She seemed irritated about this, which intrigued Hades.
He raised a brow. “You think words have meaning?”
A line appeared between her brows, and he dealt another hand.
“They are just that—words. Words are used to spin stories and craft lies, and occasionally, they are strung together to tell the truth.”
The world was built on words—the words of gods, the words of enemies, the words of lovers.
“If words hold no weight for you, what does?”
When he met her gaze, he felt the whole world shift and approached her. She held his gaze, the air between them morphing into something hot and heavy. Hades let his eyes fall to his cards as he spread them on the table before her—a royal flush.
“Action, Lady Persephone.” His voice rasped, a match igniting. “Action holds weight for me.”
She rose to meet him, their lips colliding, arms and tongues entangling. Their movements were frenzied, like they could not come together fast enough or hard enough. Finally, Hades gripped her hips and turned to sit, dragging her into his lap so that she straddled him. He had the fleeting thought that this dress she wore was made for sex as he drew the straps down her arms, exposing her breasts, kneading them until her nipples were taut. Persephone gasped, biting down on his lip, eliciting a growl from deep in his throat. Her hips rolled against his, and for a brief moment, he helped her move, enjoying the friction the movement elicited. But her breasts pressed against him, and he found himself drawn there, taking each perfect globe in his hand and devouring them with his mouth. Persephone offered a satisfying moan, her head lolling back and forth, her fingers running recklessly through his hair until it hung loose around his face. Soon, the only thing he could hear was her heavy breathing, her precious moans, her frustrated growls, and he moved, hauling her onto the table, hands on her knees spreading them as wide as they would go.