by Myles, Jill
That drunken lout. Fury burned through Hades. “The king of the underworld takes
precedence over your son.”
“So he does,” Zeus said and then stroked his beard again. “Unless I want her for myself.
Choose someone else, brother.”
Hades’s burning glare simmered with anger. So that was it, then. It wasn’t that Bacchus wanted the girl—it was that Zeus had his eye on her himself. “So you will deny me my bride, brother? You would break the vow you made to me?”
Zeus gave a lazy shrug. “She’s only a woman. There are dozens of goddesses in Olympus and hundreds of nymphs. Choose one of them.”
“No,” Hades said, his voice icy with anger. “We shall speak of this again later.” And he turned and strode away without waiting for Zeus’s permission. He didn’t care what his brother thought of his bad manners.
Bacchus wanted her. Zeus wanted her, too.
She was his. She belonged to him. To Hades.
And if Zeus wasn’t going to give the girl to him, he’d simply take her for his own. Those that entered his kingdom never left.
Ever.
A diabolical plot forming in his mind, Hades headed for his chariot.
Chapter Three
Rose lay on her back amidst the flowers, staring up at the endless blue sky overhead. She didn’t see the beauty of the lovely day or smell the fragrance of the flowers swaying in the breeze. The laughter of the nearby nymphs as they cavorted went unnoticed.
Her mind was still on the dark, possessive gaze of the lord of the underworld.
She knew who he was, now. She’d asked innocent questions of her terse mother until she’d come upon the knowledge she needed. Hades, Demeter had told her, was a surly, dark man who wore a purple cloak and hid in the shadows. That fit her admirer to a tee. Demeter also warned her that if she saw the man to run in the other direction.
Sound advice.
Except… Rose was thinking of the fairy godmother’s bargain. She could stay in this place where she had a life and magical powers as long as she managed to get a flower of the underworld.
And the lord of the underworld was interested in her. She just had to get to him somehow and ask him to take her to the underworld. Rose kept thinking of his fierce gaze as it had roamed over her. Her hand idly trailed over her flat stomach, thinking of his muscles. She’d never been able to get close to any of the humans of this plane—Demeter protected her from them, too—but he was taller and broader than any she had seen. Handsome, too. She recalled the hard set of his mouth, his firm, square jaw. He was clean-shaven, which was interesting to her. Most of the gods chose beards because it made them look older, more dignified, she supposed, and that appeased the mentality of their worshipers.
He didn’t seem like the type to concern himself with such things.
So, she had a sexy lord of the underworld that gave her hot, delicious stares and no way to get to him. That was frustrating.
Rose rolled over in the grass when the nymphs giggled and danced away. Stupid nymphs.
She was bored. It was a quiet, lovely day like any other, but for some reason, this was dissatisfying to her. Every day was exactly the same. Some days it rained, some days it didn’t.
Every day she would walk the fields, careful to avoid humans, and tend to flowers, sowing bits of her magic. Then she would return to her mother’s temple, receive prayers, and go to sleep.
It was boring as hell.
Rose wasn’t complaining, of course. Here she was given a second chance at life and some pretty cool powers… that Demeter was determined not to let her use. And so she was mostly stuck hanging out in fields with nymphs, who had the collective brainpower of a really dumb rock.
Olympus had been interesting, she thought idly. She wanted to go back there. Would Tall, Dark and Sexy still be there? If she saw him again, would he speak to her or simply give her that hot stare from the shadows? Her sex grew slick at the thought, and she glanced at the nearby nymphs, frowning.
She wanted privacy to think about the dark god, and the nymphs were too silly to realize that she would want to be alone. With a wave of her hand, she made the flowers at the far end of the meadow twist into a riot of colors, blooming wildly. The nymphs shrieked with delight, racing for the flowers.
Hey, at least they were easily distracted by pretty objects. Rose took the opportunity to slip away.
She moved through the field and into the distant trees, cutting through the greenery. There were no nymphs in this area that she could feel. The air was missing that subtle charge that told her the trees and plants were inhabited by one of the sprites. This was perfect, then. She continued down the path, her bare feet light on the ground, until she spotted just what she was looking for.
In the distance, a small pool glimmered in the sunlight. Vines hung over the spring at the base of a cliff, and the little spot was incredibly lovely, with greenery hanging over the edge of the water. Green and wet and lovely…
And private.
Rose slipped off her chiton and draped it on a nearby bush. With an internal flex of her magic, she made the bushes grow tall and thorny, shielding the water from onlookers. Perfect.
Another nudge of her power and she parted the bushes to pass through and gracefully dove into the water.
It was cool and refreshing, and she wiped water from her streaming hair, examining the bushes again. They’d moved back into place after she’d gone into the water, enclosing her in a perfect little fort of greenery.
Pleased, she lay on her back in the water and waited a moment before letting her hands slide to her breasts, cupping them.
She’d learned that Demeter still saw Persephone as a child. That meant protection from everything and everyone. She even had a small cot inside Demeter’s own room, which had been really awkward. Persephone was an adult—why was she treated like a little kid? It made no sense, and it was horribly inconvenient. Demeter was a light sleeper, too, so any time that Rose so much as rolled over in bed, Demeter was awake.
It made it impossible to masturbate, and she was feeling antsy from need.
The few times she’d mentioned human men and their wives, or any sort of marriage,
Demeter had shut her down fast. She wasn’t stupid, of course. Her modern brain knew all about sex even if she hadn’t experienced it herself. And for a place that liked for women to walk around with one boob hanging out? They seemed pretty stuffy about the actual deed. The one time Rose had brushed her hand over her own breast, Demeter had chided her, railing about lewdness and demanding that she remain chaste in both mind and body.
Rose had agreed, of course. No one dared disagree with Demeter, least of all her so-called daughter. But when she felt… urges, she hid in the woods and touched herself when she was alone.
The truth was she liked to touch herself. The feel of her hands on her body was delicious, and she cupped the heavy weight of her breasts, stroking her thumbs over her nipples. She thought about Hades, the lord of the underworld, and his dark, dark eyes. Did he touch women like this?
Her nipples grew tight, the ache in her body building. She wanted to be touched, too.
By Hades? She didn’t know. But he’d stared at her so fiercely that she wondered, maybe, if he’d seen the difference between Rose and Persephone. Perhaps he wanted Rose instead of just Demeter’s nubile daughter? She rather liked that thought.
Her fingers toyed with her nipples a bit longer and then she slid a hand between her legs, biting her lip. It was delicious to touch herself there, where her body pulsed and throbbed with need, but it seemed to be where all her need was centered. One finger stroked through the lips of her pussy, and she was not surprised to find it slick with her body’s own moisture. She ran a finger up and down her pussy, feeling a jolt of her body when she brushed her hand over her clit and thought about Hades’s dark eyes again.
A shudder rocked through her, the need intensifying. She continued to rub at her clit, arching her back and plucki
ng at her nipple with her other hand. She was so close to the edge, so close to relief…
And yet, nothing was happening. She rubbed and stroked to no avail—she couldn’t get off.
With a moan of frustration at the heat pulsing through her body, Rose dunked herself, trying to cool down.
What was with her today? She was irritable, distracted. Normally she could come just from her own touch, but thinking about Hades and his big form made her shiver all over. It was like thinking about him brought too much sensation, too much need for one person. Which was silly.
And yet… here she was. On fire with need and unable to relieve herself.
She ignored the vaguely unfulfilled feeling and lay on her back in the water, floating. Calm.
That was what she needed. Calm and quiet. Her gaze moved over the ridge overhead, admiring the greenery at the top of the cliff.
There was a flower there that she didn’t recognize.
Rose sat up in the water, moving to the edge of the pool. Was she imagining things? She knew every flower and every plant in this realm. As the goddess of spring, it was like they were implanted (no pun intended) in her brain. She knew every flower and how to grow them. Blooms were her domain. But up above her, there was a dark flower amidst the yellow petals, like a stain on fabric. It didn’t belong there. Intrigued, she sent a surge of her power to the flower to make it grow large enough for her to get a better look at it from the pool below.
It didn’t respond.
How… how could a flower not respond to her?
Was this the flower Muffin had been looking for?
Excited, Rose stepped out of the pool, the thorn bushes parting with a flick of her hand. She eyed the cliff and then made another gesture and thick, clinging vines twined and formed a ladder. She quickly scaled the rock, ignoring her dress below. She had to know what this flower was and if it was the one she needed. Maybe the flower of the underworld could grow
aboveground, too? Maybe she just had to happen upon it?
Seemed a bit too simple, but she had to know for sure. Rose made it to the top of the cliff and moved to the flower, kneeling next to it. The bloom was shaped like a star, the petals velvety-looking and such a dark purple they made her think of shadows.
Of a man that kept to the shadows.
The urge to touch herself between her legs again was strong, and she held back a whimper.
Rose bit her lip, running a finger along the petals, admiring their texture. What was this strange flower? The scent touched her nose, fragrant and lush. It smelled like nothing she’d ever experienced before. Intrigued, she leaned in and inhaled. The scent filled her, enveloping her in the faint, spicy floral musk.
Heat pulsed through her body in response. An aphrodisiac of some kind?
Was this what Muffin had sent her to find? A freaking aphrodisiac? Rose reached out to touch the flower again… and it disappeared.
She gasped, searching the nearby yellow plants, but the night-dark flower was gone as if it had never been. She got to her feet and wove a little, feeling unsteady. Odd. That strange liquid heat was still pulsing through her body, though. Her nipples felt tight and her skin flushed. She ran a hand over her pussy and gasped at how good it felt.
What was going on? Where had the flower gone?
The ground shook below her feet, cracking and splitting apart. She stumbled backward a step or two and gaped in a drugged stupor as a chasm opened wide. Dirt spewed forth, raining over her, and she raised a hand to shield her face. Galloping hooves thundered, and she heard the neigh of a horse.
Horses? From the chasm?
Rose looked down at it and to her horror, she saw a dark chariot pulled by two black steeds.
A large, looming figure drove it straight for her, a purple cape swirling around broad shoulders.
A scream died in her throat as the chariot surged forward, and she fell unconscious just as one muscular arm wrapped around her waist, dragging her against a large, hulking body and sweeping her down into the earth.
~*~
She was his.
Hades gently laid his prize down on the silky sheets of the enormous bed he’d prepared for her in a special chamber in his palace. She seemed small and fragile there, a testament to her half-human heritage. That heritage was a blessing—all he needed to do was ply her with food and drink, and she would never be allowed to leave the underworld.
She’d be his for all time, and Zeus and Dionysus and even sour Demeter could do nothing about it.
Persephone moaned in her sleep, shifting as if her dreams disturbed her. His flower had worked. She’d seen the unusual bloom and had been unable to resist taking a closer look, and she’d been too drugged by the sweet, bespelled pollen to run away. She’d stood there even as he grabbed her around the waist and dragged her wet, naked flesh against him.
He’d grown instantly erect, too, his cock throbbing with need.
But she was unconscious now, and he’d simply have to wait for his bride to wake up. He would not touch her while she slept. He wanted her warm and willing in his arms. He wanted her to moan her pleasure when he kissed her and stroked her pussy. He wanted her nails digging into his back when he parted her golden thighs and sank deep inside her.
His fingers brushed over her cheek and the smudge of dirt there.
Her hips rolled in response and she moaned again.
Hades paused. Was she… turned on? Innocent Persephone? He stared down at her in mild
surprise—he’d drugged the flower, true, but only to make her slow to respond. She was acting as if it were an aphrodisiac of some kind. Was she affected because he’d tampered with something in the realm of her magic?
Intriguing. And incredibly arousing. He ran a hand over his cock, palming the length of it as she rocked her hips on his bed again. She was making sexy whimpers in her throat, and as he watched, one hand stole between her legs and stroked over her pussy, her thighs parting.
Damn. Hades tossed aside his own tunic and allowed his cock to spring free. Pre-cum beaded on the thick crown, dark with need, and he stroked his hand down his length, fascinated by her body writhing on his sheets.
Her eyes opened, her gaze heated as she glanced at him. A gasp escaped her throat, and her eyes widened in surprise at the sight of him looming over the bed, his hand on his cock, stroking it to the sight of her lovely, naked body.
“You… you’re…” Her gaze dropped to his cock.
“Hades. Lord of the underworld. And I’ve brought you here to be my bride.”
“You kidnapped me.” There was a hint of outrage in her voice. “Kidnapped me and drugged me. Why would you do that?”
“You are mine.”
Her eyes widened in alarm at his possessive tone and her hands moved protectively over her breasts, her thighs clamping shut. “Don’t… don’t hurt me.”
“I would never hurt you.” Even now, he burned to have her but the sight of her fear was making his need ebb away. “You were unconscious, but I did not touch you. You touched yourself. The flower, it affected you.”
“Oh…” Her eyes widened in memory and her fingers squeezed over her breasts. A low moan started in her throat again, and one hand stole back between her legs. As he watched, a finger dipped between the slick lips of her sex and then she jerked her hand away as if burned. “God, I’m horny…”
And her gaze fell to his cock once more, as if fascinated.
Bold, wonderful Persephone. He grew so hard that he ached. “Persephone,” he rasped,
passion making his voice raw. “Quit touching yourself and I shall do the same.”
But she only licked her lips and rocked her hips again, her hand fluttering over her pussy.
“I… I can’t. I want…” Her breath came in short, sharp pants. “I need this.”
Lust burned through him but he knew he had to proceed slowly. Persephone was an innocent.
He’d show her, then. Very, very carefully. “You want to make your body come?”
She did want him. Incredible.
Hades stroked his cock slowly, deliberately, watching her gaze drag back to his hard, erect length. He repeated the motion, making a low sound of pleasure in his throat when he did so. “It feels good to touch yourself, Persephone. Have you never done so before?”
“All the time,” she told him in a purring voice that startled him with its sexuality. Her hand moved back to her pussy and then paused. “Today I couldn’t come, though.”
“Shall I touch your pussy for you?”
Her eyes widened. “No!”
“Then touch yourself.” He stroked his cock again, nearly jerking against his own hand, it felt so good. Her gaze on his cock was driving him wild with need, pre-cum dribbling down the head of his cock and slicking his fingers. “Touch yourself and show me how good it feels.”
Persephone’s fingers stole back to her breasts and she lightly brushed the curves of them once, then looked back to him for approval.
“More,” he rasped, working his cock again at the sight. “Move your hand between your
legs.”
She seemed to tremble all over. “I… I can’t. It’s just torture.”
“You can.” When she hesitated, he added, “It would please me.”
To his vast pleasure, she stole a hand to her thighs and parted them just a fraction.
“Caress yourself. Run your fingers over your flesh.” When she sucked in a breath and
obeyed, he groaned inwardly at how sexy it was. “Spread your pussy for me, Persephone.”
She bit her lip but did as he instructed, and the sight of her pink, glistening flesh made him tug fiercely at his cock, his grip tightening in an effort not to spill his seed.
“Do you want to touch your clit?” he asked her.
She nodded eagerly and then Persephone stroked one delicate finger over the small pink bud.
Immediately she moaned, thrusting her breasts into the air. Just as quickly as she’d touched herself, her hand moved away again.
“Keep touching yourself,” he told her. “Does it feel good?”
