She fell silent after that. Hades finished cleaning her wound, and once again, she felt his healing warmth radiate through her. Her shoulder took far longer than her ribs, and she wondered just how bad the injury had been.
Once he was finished, he placed his fingers under her chin. “Change,” he said.
“I…don’t have anything to change into.”
“I have something,” he said, helping her to her feet. He directed her behind a screen and handed her a satin robe. It was short and black. She looked at the piece of fabric and then at him.
“I’m guessing this isn’t yours?”
“The Underworld is prepared for all manner of guests.”
“Thank you,” she said curtly. “But I don’t think I want to wear something one of your lovers has also worn.”
She wished he would have told her there were no lovers, but instead he frowned and said, “It’s either this or nothing at all, Persephone.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“What? Undress you? Happily, and with far more enthusiasm than you realize, my lady.”
She spent a moment glaring at him, and then her shoulders sagged. She was exhausted and frustrated and not interested in challenging the god. She took the robe from him.
“Fine.”
He gave her the privacy she needed to change. She stepped out from behind the partition in the robe and immediately fell under Hades’ gaze. He stared at her for a long moment before clearing his throat, taking her wet dress and hanging it over the screen.
“What now?” She asked.
“You rest,” he said and lifted her into his arms. She wanted to protest. He had healed her, and despite her weariness, she could walk, but she remained quiet, unable to speak. Hades was looking at her and carrying her to his bed. He held her gaze, even as he laid her down and drew the blankets over her body.
Her eyes were heavy with sleep.
“Thank you,” she whispered, and then noted the harsh set of his face. Frowning, she said, “You are angry.”
She reached out to smooth his knitted brows, tracing her finger along the side of his face, over his cheek, and to the corner of his lips. He did not relax under her touch, and she withdrew quickly. She closed her eyes, not wanting to witness his frustration.
“Persephone,” she said.
“What?” he asked, confused.
“I wish to be called Persephone only. Not ‘lady.’”
“Rest,” she heard him say. “I will be here when you wake.”
She didn’t fight the sleep that came.
***
Persephone’s eyes felt like sandpaper when she opened them. For a moment, she thought she was home in her bed, but quickly remembered she had almost drowned in a river in the Underworld. Hades had brought her to his palace, and she now lay in his bed.
She sat up quickly, closing her eyes against her dizziness. When it passed, she opened her eyes again and found Hades sitting in a chair watching her. In one hand he held a glass of whisky, apparently his drink of choice. He had shed his suit jacket and wore a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the buttons halfway undone. She couldn’t place his expression, but she felt that he was upset.
Hades took a sip of the whisky, and the fire behind him cracked in the silence that stretched between them. In that quiet, she was hyper-aware of the way her body was reacting to him. He wasn’t even doing anything, but in these close quarters, she could smell him, and it ignited a fire in the pit of her stomach.
She found herself wishing he would speak—say something so I can be mad at you again, she thought. It wasn’t long before he obliged.
“How long have I been here?” she asked.
“Hours,” he replied.
Her eyes widened. “What time is it?”
He shrugged. “Late.”
“I have to go,” she said, but didn’t move.
“You have come all this way. Allow me to offer you a tour of my world.”
Hades stood and his presence seemed to fill the room. He downed the last of his whiskey, and then walked to where she sat on the bed. He grasped the covers and drew them away. As she slept, the robe he had given her loosened, exposing a sheath of white skin between her breasts. She held it closed, her cheeks flushed.
Hades pretended not to notice, and held out his hand. She took it, and expected him to step away as she got to her feet, but he remained close, and kept a hold of her fingers. When she finally looked up, he was watching her.
“Are you well?” His voice was deep and rumbled through her.