He was gone a moment, and returned with a damp cloth. He cleaned her, and then moved her, fitting her back against his chest, and pulling her close. Wrapped in his warmth, she fell asleep.
Sometime later, Persephone woke to Hades grinding into her from behind, his arousal hard and thick against her bottom. As he gripped her hips, he trailed kisses up her neck. Her need for him overpowered her exhaustion, and she turned her head, meeting his soft lips, desperate to taste him again.
Hades guided her onto her back and climbed on top of her, kissing her until she was breathless. She tried reaching for him, wishing to twine her fingers into his soft hair, but he restrained her, pinning her wrists over her head. He used the position to his advantage, nibbling her earlobes, kissing down her neck, and grazing her nipples with his teeth. Each sensation drew a breathy moan from Persephone’s throat, and the sounds seemed to fuel Hades’ lust. He made his way to her thighs and wasted no time parting her legs and lapping at her wet heat. His fingers joined, thrusting into her hard and fast, working her until her moans came in quick succession, until she could hardly take in breath, and when she came, it was with his name on her lips—the only word she’d spoken since this began.
Hades said nothing, lost in a haze of want, and rose to cover her once more, positioning himself at her entrance. He sank deep, his thrusts were rough and wild.
At some point, he lifted her as if she weighed nothing, sitting back on his heels and gripping her hips, he moved her up and down his shaft. The feel of him inside her was perfection, and she grew hungry to feel him deeper and faster. She wrapped her arms around his neck and moved against him. Their mouths came together, teeth scraping, tongues searching. Together, they rode wave after wave of mindless sensation and came together, collapsing in a heap of limbs and sweat and hard breaths.
Before she fell asleep again, she had the fleeting thought that, if this was her fate, she would gladly claim it.
CHAPTER XIX – A TOUCH OF POWER
Persephone woke to find Hades asleep beside her. He lay on his back, black sheets covering the lower half of his body, leaving the contours of his stomach exposed. His hair spilled over his pillow, his jaw covered in stubble. She wanted to reach out and trace his perfect brows, nose, and lips, but she didn’t want to wake him, and the move seemed too intimate. She realized that sounded ridiculous considering what had taken place between them last night. Still, touching him without invitation or initiation seemed like something a lover might do, and Persephone did not feel like Hades’ lover.
She wasn’t even sure she wanted to be a lover. She’d always imagined falling in love as something heady, almost shy—but things with the Lord of the Dead had been anything but shy. Their attraction was carnal and greedy and burning. It stole her breath, crowded her mind, invaded her body.
Heat started to build in the pit of her stomach, igniting the desire she’d felt so strongly yesterday. Breathe, she told herself, willing the warmth to dissipate.
After a moment, she slipped out of bed. She found the black robe Hades had let her borrow when she’d first come to the Underworld and slipped it on. Wandering onto the balcony, she let herself take a deep breath, and, in the quiet of the day, the full weight of what she had done with Hades crash down upon her. She had never been so confused or afraid.
Confused because her feelings for the god were all tangled up—she was angry with him, mostly because of the contract, but otherwise intrigued and the way he’d made her feel last night—well, nothing compared. He had worshipped her. He had laid himself bare, admitting his desire for her. Together, they had been vulnerable and senseless and savage. She didn’t need to look in the mirror to know that her skin was discolored in all the places Hades had bit and sucked and gripped. He had explored parts of her no one else had.
And that was where the fear came in.
She was losing herself in this god, in this world beneath her own. Before, when all they’d shared was a moment of weakness in the baths, she might have sworn to stay away and meant it, but if she said it now, it would just be a lie.
Whatever was between them, it was powerful. She had felt it the moment she laid eyes on the god. Knew it deep in her soul. Every interaction since then had been a desperate attempt to ignore their truth—that they were meant to come together—and Sybil had confirmed that last night.
It was destiny, woven by the Fates.
But Persephone knew there were many such alliances, and being meant for each other didn’t mean perfection or even happiness. Sometimes it was chaos and strife—and given how tumultuous her life had been since she met Hades, nothing good would come from their love.