“You look beautiful today,” he said, staring down at her. “Have I told you?”
“Not yet,” she said, smiling and rocking onto the tips of her toes. “Tell me again.”
He answered by kissing her, hands tangling into her hair. During their ride, his body had grown warm, and now he was boiling, but as eager as he was to channel this heat, to release it into her, he pulled away and nuzzled her nose, whispering once more, “You’re beautiful, my darling.”
He led her through the tree line to a spot in the mountains where water ran off the rocks into a shallow and shimmering lake, and though the muted light of Hades’s sky cut through parts of the canopy above, they were mostly in shadow.
Beside him, Persephone’s breath caught in her throat, and she spoke, awed. “Hades…how gorgeous.”
But he had never stopped staring at her, and when she finally looked at him, they came together once more, their mouths colliding. Hades’s hands slid around her body, holding her hips in place as he rolled into her, his length trapped between them, hard and throbbing.
“Hades,” she whispered as his mouth left hers long enough to remove their clothes. He lowered them both to the ground, where he worshipped her body with his mouth. He loved every part of her—her heavy breasts, her stomach, and the space between her thighs—and when they were both wound tight, he settled his arousal against her and rocked his hips forward.
Sliding into her was an out-of-body experience, and she was there, swelling and gripping, and he froze, his forearms braced on either side of her face. For a moment, she was still, her head back, chin tilted up, but then she seemed to relax, release her breath, and open her eyes.
Their eyes met, and all Hades could see when he looked at her was his queen.
“Marry me,” he whispered as her finger traced his face, and though he had asked her twice before, this time felt different. It felt right, and he guessed it was for her too, because she answered with a quiet “Yes.”
They smiled at each other, and he kissed her before he moved, thrusting deep, and she arched beneath him. There was a part of him that felt almost powerful as she writhed—powerful but humbled, because she let him in.
She let him drive her toward release, and after he came, he noticed that tears welled in her eyes.
He bent to kiss them, whispering as he did. “My darling, why are you crying?”
“I don’t know,” she said and reached to wipe her eyes, laughing once more.
Hades thought he understood a little of what she was feeling—a happiness that went beyond anything he had ever known. As much as he felt being here was a victory, he also felt like he had more to lose.
“I love you,” he said and carried her into the water, where they bathed.
After, they dressed and headed for the palace.
Unlike their ride to the waterfall, their return was quiet. For the first time in a long while, Hades felt unburdened. In this place and time, nothing existed beyond this moment—not the labors Hera had put him through or the death of the Graeae. He did not think of Theseus or even of Zeus. Those were not things he was fighting for—they were things he fought against.
He fought for Persephone, for this love that she inspired in his heart—for these feelings he never expected to feel, much less so deep. He knew things were changing. He could feel it in the threads that moved beneath his glamour, but he hoped that whatever the Fates wove, it included a future for him and Persephone.
Even if that future meant turmoil.
When the palace came into view, Hades noticed Thanatos waiting, and his mood instantly darkened. The high he’d felt from the start of their evening
crashed so hard he felt shaky. When he’d thought of turmoil, he hadn’t expected it to come so soon, but he knew what this meant.
He knew.
And already his heart was breaking for Persephone.
A few more paces and they were within range of Thanatos, who looked stricken. He was always pale, but there was a yellow sheen to his skin that made him look sickly, and even the hollows of his cheeks seemed deeper, his eyes more hooded. Hades dismounted, and as he helped Persephone off Alastor, he noted that she couldn’t take her eyes off the God of Death either.
Her dread was just as heavy.
As they approached, Hades kept his hand on the small of Persephone’s back, a precaution in case she crumpled.
“Thanatos,” Hades greeted.
“My lord, my lady,” he said and swallowed, trying twice to speak, but whatever words he had thought he would start with fell dead on his tongue.