Persephone

by Kitty Thomas

  Hades was in the bed, naked and waiting for her. Suddenly that enormous bed seemed only normal-sized with him inside it in his darker form. He motioned her forward, and she went to him. His eyes lit with a familiar desire, and all she wanted was to pretend that some part of the god she knew was still in there somewhere underneath the monster. She wanted to believe that he was fighting to get back to her.

  “You still want me, I can feel it,” he said.

  She wanted to deny it. She wanted to fight and scream and run and be horrified—not because of the way he looked but because of the cold cruelty of this new form. She didn’t want to believe she could want someone so callous. But she did still want him because when his hands were on her, even in this form, she could close her eyes and pretend it was him. Instead of this weak dark copy.

  “Poor, lost Persephone,” he said.

  She stood mere inches from him now, well within his grasp. He ran his hands over the slinky shimmery dress, admiring her. When he touched her, even now, she had no will to try to escape him. All she wanted was more.

  He moved a hand underneath the high slit in the dress and between her legs. She widened her stance to give him access and whimpered as he stroked her. He could so easily rip into her with those claws, but he was being careful for now.

  “I knew you would still be wet for me.”

  He withdrew his hand.

  “Master, please.”

  He chuckled and laid back against the pillows, moving the blankets out of their way. Persephone climbed onto the bed and pulled the fabric of the dress up. She straddled him, grateful he didn’t seem intent to fuck her on her back with those fresh whip marks still searing into her skin.

  She gasped when he filled her. That statue at the party had been exact. Except now instead of cold marble it was warm flesh that made her buzz with a euphoria that barely seemed possible. He didn’t have to prompt or guide her. She closed her eyes and started to move on her own. But he was just so big.

  He gripped her waist and helped raise and lower her at the pace he wanted.

  “No,” he said. “Look at me. I don’t want you to pretend it’s him.”

  Persephone opened her eyes and met his gaze. His eyes glowed that terrifying red, and it seemed as though he could burn her out of existence with only a look if he wanted. He probably could. But the way he looked at her was as intense as it had been in his previous form.

  She touched the side of his face, looking for any part of him that might still exist deep inside.

  Hades gripped her wrist and pulled her hand away. He growled. “No. Fuck me. We aren’t going to make love.”

  And yet, he wanted eye contact. He didn’t want to fuck her from behind so she could pretend whatever she wanted. He claimed he only wanted to fuck, but he wouldn’t allow distance between them.

  Even in this form, how could she see it as anything other than making love—despite the emotions he didn’t seem capable of? There was no elaborate kink. They were in a bed, looking into each other’s eyes, languidly moving together in an ancient dance that didn’t feel like just fucking.

  His hands on her, his gaze on her, his cock inside her made her want to stay in this moment forever. She never wanted to leave this bed. She never wanted to have to face his cold distance, or that whip or his chains, or the casual cruelty of his words.

  After a small eternity, the pleasure inside her began to build.

  “Yes, give yourself to the monster who destroyed the man you loved. Come for me.”

  His words hurt with equal intensity as the pleasure and peace of his hands on her body. But she couldn’t stop it now. She let go and allowed the pleasure to flow over her. If this was her life now, shouldn’t she have just a little pleasure to edge out the pain?

  “Good girl,” he said when she laid against his chest, spent.

  He gripped her ass and thrust harder and faster into her until he reached his own peak All she could do was hold onto him.

  And then it was over. He didn’t cuddle with her. He didn’t stroke her hair. He just pulled out of her and got out of the bed and quietly put his pants back on.

  Persephone lay huddled in the bed, crying. She felt like she was cheating on him with him—taking comfort in something that wasn’t even real. Hades put a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t want to lean into that touch, but she did, unable to resist any small peace he offered her.

  “He’s never coming back, Sunshine. Accept it. I’m the one you need to concern yourself with pleasing now.”

  Chapter Ten

  It had only been a few days, but to Persephone it felt as though thousands of years had passed. Time held no meaning. The watch Hades had given her was pointless. Nothing mattered anymore. What difference did it make if she knew what time it was in New York? That life was over.

  She didn’t know what was happening on the surface, but the cold, dead winter seemed to have left the earth and come to the underworld. Everything felt more cold and dead than it ever had. There was nothing but fear here anymore.

  Hades sat on the large throne-like chair in the ballroom. The candles were all lit. Everything gleamed as if for a party. But there was no party—just scared guards, scared servants, scared under beings… and her.

  Persephone was nude, kneeling on a cushion at Hades’ feet. He’d attached a heavy chain to her collar. The other end was bolted into the floor next to his chair. Hades dragged his claw lightly along the back of her neck. He knew and she knew that if he pressed just the tiniest bit, he would draw blood. He liked to keep her there on the very edge of blood and pain, poised between anxiety and peace.

  Her back was still bandaged from his last punishment, but it hurt less. That hadn’t stopped him from devising other ways to hurt and scare her in the days in between. She’d learned in a short time that being suspended by ropes for hours could hurt just as much as a whip, but it didn’t require healing time.

  She’d learned he could get inside her head and torment her mind in ways that went beyond any physical pain he could devise.

  The ballroom doors opened, and Melos burst in. His gaze went briefly to Persephone, and he flinched. The only thing worse than what Hades had become was everyone else’s useless pity for her.

  “How dare you burst in here without an invitation?” Hades said. His voice was calm and polite, but the barely constrained rage bubbled just below the surface so palpable everyone in the room could feel it on the air. He would take this out on her later. He always took everybody else’s fuck-ups out on her.

  “M-my Lord, Hades, I apologize.” Melos was shaking.

  This terrifying under being in charge of torture in the lower realms was shaking. Every time Persephone witnessed this kind of reaction from one of his generals or even one of the servants or guards, her heart sank a little further because she was beginning to realize he was being lenient with her. He’d destroyed two under beings in the space of a day for bringing him news he didn’t find pleasing. If he was being lenient with her, what happened when the newness wore off and she was just another thing to hurt?

  As cold and cruel as he was, the way he was with Persephone was his good side now.

  “What do you want?” Hades said, his claws clicking impatiently on the arm rest.

  “I beg your pardon, My Lord, but there is a matter of some urgency happening right outside the castle in the garden.”

  Hades raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Who would dare to create a problem on the grounds of my home? My, but we all do seem to have an annihilation wish now, don’t we?”

  “Please, you must come.”

  Hades sighed, rose from his chair, and followed the general outside. A few moments after the ballroom doors shut, they opened again, but this time it was Nick. He carried an ancient-looking jar with reverence and care as if it contained the key to all life. When he spotted Persephone, he rushed across the ballroom to her side.

  He knelt next to her. “Your Grace, we don’t have a lot of time before he comes back. You must dri
nk this.”

  Nick thrust the jar into her hands. It was warm like the sun. There were strange etchings on the exterior. She didn’t know what they meant, but they felt powerful like they had existed from the beginning.

  “W-what is it?”

  “Your powers. Zeus gave them to me to give to you. You must drink it now. This might be your only chance.”

  Persephone unscrewed the lid and smelled the contents of the jar. It didn’t smell like anything, but the liquid inside glowed pale pink. She felt sure the glowing couldn’t be good. What if it was some kind of trick? Or a test? She’d learned that Nick was Hades’ most trusted spy. What if it was a test to see if she would do something to defy him?

  But what if it wasn’t? Nick seemed far too scared to be part of some grand plan to destroy her.

  Despite her fears, all she could think was this might somehow help her withstand Hades. She closed her eyes and drank the contents of the jar. It tasted like spring rain and sunflowers and apple blossoms and sunlight and butterflies and wriggling caterpillars. It tasted like hope and second chances and beginnings. It tasted like safety and warmth and home.

  The pink glow moved through her, and she felt so… strong. Indestructible. Ancient. Enduring. Was this how Hades and Zeus felt all the time? Was this what had been stolen and hidden from her?

  Then the real magic started. Suddenly, she knew. Everything. She knew how all things had been from the foundations of the world. She knew who she was. What she was. There was no longer any doubt. She knew Zeus had been using her stolen powers to awaken the world in Springtime.

  She felt alive in ways she’d never before felt. Even the darkness of the underworld couldn’t crush her. The long, unyielding sadness left her, and now she just felt strong.

  She no longer needed Hades to touch her to make her feel like she wasn’t dying, because now she felt more alive than ever before. And she understood.

  She understood darkness and death and pain and destruction, because out of those things her powers brought life and hope and growing things. Out of the darkest, deadest winter, spring always came back. And she felt compassion for the dead and hopeless things. Even for Hades. She’d thought she loved him before, but now she could see and understand and feel him in ways she couldn’t have comprehended before.

  No longer did she reason and think and feel like a human, but like a god. She didn’t process what he’d done as a human would. With her more human feelings she might not have been capable of forgiving him for destroying souls. As a goddess it felt… different, still wrong, but… different. She felt his desperation and pain and the need to keep her.

  She didn’t just know who she was. She knew who everyone was, who Hades was—the pain and loneliness and despair he’d carried until he’d found her. The bitterness and resentment of the lot he’d drawn. The injustice of the one being who might make his life bearable being kept from him. And in that moment, she forgave him.

  “Your Grace?” Nick had a worried expression on his face.

  She had sort of left them all there for a moment. Persephone gave the jar back to Nick.

  “How do you feel?” he asked as if concerned the transfer hadn’t taken.

  She smiled. “Like a goddess. Like the queen.”

  When she looked along the walls at the guards and servants, she saw and felt the slightest shift in them from fear… to hope.

  There were sounds out in the hallway. Nick scrambled to get off the ground and bolted out a side entrance. That was probably wise. Hades would destroy him if he knew what he’d done.

  Moments later, the door was flung open, and Hades stepped into the ballroom, his eyes glowing bright red. He blazed across the floor to Persephone, the rage crackling and rolling off him, electrifying the air like a static charge. For a moment, she thought he’d caught Melos and Nick at their deception. But if that were true, he would have sent guards after them or looked around the ballroom for Nick. There was no indication he realized his spy had been there in his absence.

  Maybe he knew Persephone had changed. Could he feel it?

  He detached the chain from her collar and jerked her up off the ground, dragging her without a word out of the ballroom, down the hallway, up the stairs, to the playroom. He didn’t pause to acknowledge her until he had her chained the way he wanted: standing, legs and arms spread wide, much like Melos had her at her introduction party.

  Hades towered over her, his arms crossed over his massive chest. “I don’t care how healed you are. I want to hurt you.”

  “Master, did I do something to displease you?”

  He snorted. “No, Persephone. You are as sweet and lovely as ever. Your behavior is perfect and has nothing to do with the things I want to do to you.”

  Hades stepped behind her and ripped her bandages off. He let out a surprised gasp and ran his fingertips—claws lightly dragging—across her back. “Something’s not right. The ointment shouldn’t have worked this well or this quickly.”

  Persephone remained silent, her breath already coming out in frightened pants.

  He went to the closet and returned with his favorite whip. The leather cut through the air only a moment before it cut through her, drawing fresh cries from deep within her. If she’d thought having her powers back would make this hurt less, she’d been very wrong about that. It was still the same stinging fire across her back.

  “What?” He said, confused. “This can’t be.”

  “W-what can’t be?”

  “You just healed. I broke your skin, and then it healed. Instantly.” Hades circled around her again and came to stand in front of her. He gripped her throat so hard, she feared he’d break her neck—not that she could die. But pain was still pain, and far from muting everything, getting her powers had only made everything louder, brighter, sharper. Now when he hurt her, she didn’t only feel her own pain, she felt his, too. It was the kind of pain that could swallow the world.

  “What. Did. You. Do?” he growled.

  It was the first time he’d been officially displeased with her since the transformation. For a moment, the fear of just how awful he might become swamped her. He released her throat and took a couple of steps back.

  “Well? Speak.”

  She wouldn’t give Nick away. But Hades must know. Who else could it be? It suddenly occurred to her that Nick had known all along this might be a suicide mission because there was no hiding her powers from Hades or anyone else for long. The under being may have sacrificed his existence for her.

  “I have my powers back,” she said unnecessarily.

  “I know that. How?”

  Persephone didn’t answer.

  “No matter. I should be grateful. This just makes you more… durable. There are so many things I’ve wanted to do to you. But your annoyingly slow healing time got in the way. I’ve been so impatient to hurt you just a little more… never satisfied with the limits of your fragility.” He leaned in close and whispered, “Still, I’ve loved that I can fuck you knowing no matter what I do to you, your body will always want me. Whoever gave you your powers back must really hate you.”

  His anger was replaced with a buzz of excitement as if all his wishes and dreams were impossibly coming true. He went back to the closet, tossing things out behind him in a frenzy until he found the box he wanted. It was dark wood with intricate carvings and fit easily in his enormous hands.

  He opened the box to show her the contents. Persephone’s eyes widened.

  “Tell me, Sunshine… do you like knives?”

  She hadn’t wanted to whimper and beg, knowing it would only drive him on, but she couldn’t help the tears that started moving down her cheeks, the fear she now knew he could feel and practically taste. There had been little point in being brave. He knew what she felt just as she knew what he felt.

  “Master, please.”

  “I was wondering when you’d beg for me.” He set the box on the ground and took out one of the knives. He laid the flat of the blade gently against
the side of her cheek. “You know I can do the same damage with claws. I’ll tell you what… lady’s choice… claws or knives?”

  She rattled the chains. “Master, please unchain me.”

  His eyes lit with malicious glee. “And why would I do that when I like you so scared and helpless?”

  “Y-you don’t really like me this way.”

  He prowled around her, sniffing, inhaling her fear. “I’m pretty sure I do.”

  “But you didn’t… before you changed.”

  He growled. “That was then. This is now.” He stopped prowling and stood still as if lost in thought. “You know what? I am going to take you down out of the chains. I’m going to take you to the ballroom and hurt you there. We’ll let everyone watch the helpless destruction of the queen of the underworld. Would you like that, Sunshine?”

  She flinched when he stroked the side of her cheek.

  “Oh, that’s right. You don’t need me to touch you anymore to cope with the underworld. But I bet I can still make you wet for me. I think I should do it downstairs with an audience. I know how you love an audience.”

  Persephone didn’t respond. If she appeared too eager, he’d know something was up.

  “I-I’m sorry, Master.”

  “Too late. I like my new plan.” He unchained her.

  Persephone stepped closer to him. “My poor, lost Hades,” she said sadly.

  He growled. “Don’t you dare pity and patronize me. I will make you regret that,” he snarled.

  “No, you won’t. The rules of the game have changed.”

  You had to love them, or the spark of life wouldn’t come back.

  Persephone reached up and touched the side of his face. She poured every ounce of compassion and love and power she had into him. She was certain that even if she still thought and felt like a human, she would love him if it was the price necessary to bring him back because this wasn’t about what she needed. It was how she’d always brought things back, and now she knew why. Even without her powers in the human realm, some small bit of magic must have clung to her, the slightest essence of who she was.