He met Persephone’s gaze and kissed her eyes, cheeks, and lips.
“You are a test, goddess. A trial offered to me by the Fates.”
He shifted to leave the bed and was surprised when Persephone reached for his hand.
A line appeared between his brows, and he leaned to kiss her, promising, “I will come back, my darling.”
He disappeared into the adjoining bathroom, cleaned himself up, and then wet a cloth for Persephone. Once she was washed, he laid down beside her again, pulling her warm body against his, and they fell into a deep sleep.
***
Hades woke instantly, his cock hard.
He groaned and rocked into Persephone’s warm body, his arousal nesting against her bottom perfectly. He gripped her hips and kissed her neck, and when she turned into him, he climbed on top of her, pinning her wrists over her head so he could tease her with his teeth and lips, reveling in sounds of her breathy moans.
He parted her legs and drank her heat, using his fingers to give her pleasure until she called his name. It made him desperate to be inside her, and he loomed over her body, entering her in one swift push. He moved inside her, and the harder he thrust, the tighter her muscles gripped him.
When he felt close to coming, he switched positions, leaning back on his haunches and bringing her with him. He grasped her hips and helped her move while she held him, her breasts bouncing. Their mouths collided. It was a messy kiss, all tongue and teeth, but it was a mark of the pleasure they shared.
They did not speak, the only sounds coming from their quiet and sleepy lovemaking—breaths and moans and the keen cry of orgasm.
They collapsed, arms and legs tangled, repeating their earlier ritual of washing and burrowing into each other’s warmth, and as sleep descended upon Hades, he had the thought that he would tear this world apart if anyone tried to take Persephone from him.
CHAPTER XXI – A MEMORY BRANDED
Hades woke alone.
He sat up, heart pounding in his chest. For a moment, he feared Persephone had realized her mistake and fled in the night, but once the surprise of waking by himself ebbed, he was able to focus on her and knew she remained in the Underworld, her presence as warm and right as her body against his.
With that realization, he stretched, falling back against his pillows, hands behind his head, and basked in memories from last night.
Persephone wasn’t the only woman he had slept with, but she was the only one he needed. He had never felt this kind of connection before, and he preferred the intimacy. It made sex with her even better, made all the sensations more intense, the gasps of pleasure more rewarding, the aftermath more tender.
It made him even more determined to ensure their Fate wasn’t unraveled, something that was still a possibility with Sisyphus on the run. At the thought of the escaped mortal, Hades sat up, manifesting a piece of cloth to cover himself. He would find that mortal today and end his beating heart. Nothing, not a mortal and not the Fates, would keep him from the euphoria that was Persephone—his lover, his queen, his goddess.
He stepped out onto the balcony and found Persephone wandering the path in the garden. She wore black, and her creamy skin was ablaze against it. He couldn’t help thinking how at home she looked among the flowers of the Underworld despite her disdain for them. He knew she envied his magic, even if what he created was not real and had no true life. His flowers did not need sun or water. They did not breath in or exhale. They simply existed as the souls did, with no purpose save beauty.
But Persephone, she had the ability to create life. Real life. He could sense it within her, the powerful core of her being, caged by disbelief. There would come a day when flowers would bloom in her presence, when her breath would call the wind, when her tears would turn to storms. She would shake the earth and build kingdoms from the rubble.
And he would stand by and watch—a husband, her king.
He headed down the stairs into the garden just in time to see Persephone step off the black stone path, bare feet touching soil, roses and peonies flourishing around her. The colors brought out the warm tones of her skin—pink skin, with red markings from lovemaking, places where his hold had been tight, and faint purple bruising from his mouth. He took in the sight of his woman ravished by his own hand and felt fire build in the bottom of his stomach.
“Are you well?”
He asked because she had not moved since stepping off the path. She twisted toward him when she heard his voice, as if he had startled her. In the early morning of the Underworld, she looked beautiful—eyes wide, wild, sun-kissed hair, parted lips. Her gaze raked down his body, and his blood surged with lust. His fingers curled, a reminder to stay where he was and not close the distance between them. She had yet to answer his question.