“Not even when you were young?” His whisper was close enough to brush her lips. “You were very much afraid of me then. I watched you in the shadows and when you fell down the rabbit hole to Tartarus, I thought you were a gift from powers greater than Olympus.”
She shivered, remembering his eyes on her all the time, how vulnerable she’d felt, exposed. What Hera would give to feel that again with him, vulnerable but soft, protected. Safe. Hera had feared him as a male, but she’d trusted him to keep her safe down here in the recesses of the world.
“You were beautiful, Hades. I was afraid, but I wanted you too,” she confessed.
His gaze dropped to her mouth and for one glorious moment, Hera thought he was going to kiss her. She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue.
“So why didn’t you say yes when I asked your father for you?” he asked, his tone still seductive, but with an edge like a knife beneath every word.
“My mother said you were dangerous and wild, that you’d take me down to Tartarus and I’d never see Olympus again.”
“Do you remember when I kissed you the first time?”
“In Aphrodite’s grotto.” She leaned closer, but Hades captured her wrists and held them above her head. She yearned for more of his touch, but he kept a careful distance between them.
“You were asleep beneath the stars, with daydreams on your lips and moonbeams on your brow.” He took one lock of her hair between his fingers. “Your hair was a pool of crimson spread out behind you and your skin so luminous in that pale light.” He brushed the pad of his thumb over her lower lip. “Your lips were rose petals—parted in sweet invitation.”
She gasped and arched against him in an involuntary movement, her body reliving those memories on a cellular level.
“I awoke in your arms. Your hands were all over me and I wanted you to stop, but I wanted more too. I felt like I was on fire and frozen at once. Yes, Hades, I confess, I was afraid of everything you made me feel.”
“And now, what are you afraid of?”
“You’ll stop and I’ll never feel those things again,” Hera confessed and tilted her face up, hoping for his kiss.
“What if I told you that you won’t? That I’ll never touch you again?”
“I’d tell you to get your damn hands off me then because you’re touching me now and whether you want to admit it or not, your body still wants mine even if the rest of you doesn’t.”
“This is quite the change from little Miss Vulnerable yesterday. Zeus take another runner at it? Give you a little confidence boost?” he sneered.
“Don’t be a bastard to me because someone else hurt you.”
“There’s where you’re mistaken, sweetheart. I’m being a bastard to you because you hurt me,” Hades explained nonchalantly.
“A millennia ago,” she shot back.
“Now you want something from me. Something my brother doesn’t give you, maybe never did. And I’m supposed to be thankful, eager even, that you deign to come down from on high and offer me my brother’s leavings. I should take his castoffs and be grateful for it?” Disgust was written on his countenance.
He knew that wasn’t how she’d intended it. “So, I’m forever to be something big brother didn’t want—a hand me down whore? Should I have been a virgin forever?”
“Yes.”
“What about Persephone?”
“What about her?”
“You would have fucked her seventy-five deviations from Sunday.”
“A hundred. A thousand,” he swore.
“What’s good for the gander, Hades,” Hera said defiantly.
“Obviously, it wasn’t good, was it? Because I was left with this.” He flung the box on the floor that held his heart.
Hades released her and stalked from the room. She sank to her knees to catch her breath and she saw that the box had sprung open and the husk of his heart had fallen to the floor. Hera reached out to touch it. It was so small—the sight of it dark and still twisted her insides.
She picked it up carefully like she would have had it been a baby bluebird. Hera feared it was going to crumble to nothing in her fingers, but it sat still and hard. She stroked her finger down the side of it in a tender motion and found it to be so cold it burned her. Hera brought the dark thing to her lips and blew soft, warm breath over it. Surely, if it was so hard, that wouldn’t hurt it. It was dirty, after all, and she didn’t want to put it back in the box that way.
A little bit of the charred edge flaked off and Hera gasped. For one horrible moment, she thought it was going to dissolve. Until she saw a bit of something beneath. It was ashen and gray, but it wasn’t black. Hera brought it to her lips again and this time, she touched that new place with her mouth as she blew.
Another layer peeled away, like the shell of a hard-boiled egg. What she held in her hand now looked to be a stone. It was heavy and bleak, but was solid. It wasn’t a fey thing of ashes and soot.
Hera placed it tenderly in the box and closed it. She put it back up on the mantle and traced her fingers over it lightly before turning to figure out where tall, dark and sullen had gotten to.
She crept through the long corridors carefully until she remembered which passage led to his chambers and was astonished when she heard a feminine voice. Well, the tart would just have to go, whoever she was. Hera had a plan and Hades was the lynchpin. Hell or high water, she would have her way in this. Hera hadn’t come this far to be thwarted by what was between anyone’s thighs.
“Hades, I can’t find the towels and I… Sorry. Didn’t see you were on the phone.” She heard through the door.
Oh, hell no. It was not happening like this. He’d left her to fend for herself to come up here and shag this hooker, whoever she was, while he knew she wanted him? That was too big of a slap to Hera’s ego to let it pass.
Maybe that’s why he hadn’t already succumbed to her charms? Part of why she’d wanted Hades was because he was monogamous. If he had a woman, whether he loved her or not, he wasn’t running around trying to stick his dick or thunderbolt into anything that would stand still long enough.
Damn it.
One little look wouldn’t hurt, would it? She peered through the door and saw the same snarling gargoyle from the day previous and a woman’s voice issuing from its mouth. It looked just as pissed off at this day’s indignity. At first she thought the charade was for her, but she could see he actually was on the phone.
Thank the powers for cell phones. All that prophecy stuff was a colossal pain in the taco. Gods talking to each other through oracles, shit never came through clearly.
It was obvious he was talking to Persephone from his tone of voice, the look on his face. But rather than be frustrated about the possible wrinkle in her plans, she felt sorrow. If he’d had that heart in his chest, Hera was sure it would be breaking now.
From the sound of things, it seemed she wanted him back. Why was he telling her no? Hera was both elated and miserable at the same time. Why were things with him so complicated? He was a god. Gods were simple. Ambrosia. Sports. Sex. That was supposed to be the extent of it. But no. Hades was complex.
Having a wild affair with Abstinence sounded better all the time.
He hung up the phone. It was a testament to the kind of god he was when he didn’t throw the phone across the room as she would have after such an exchange, but closed it carefully and set it down on the table beside the bed. He raked his fingers through his hair and sighed.
Hera opened the door the rest of the way and moved to sit beside him.
“You’re still here? You must be desperate.”
“I am,” she admitted freely. A long moment of silence made the air thick. “Why didn’t you let her come back?”
He turned to study her, his blue-flamed irises flaring. “It’s the best I could do for her.”
“Isn’t this what you wanted? She loves you.”
“No, she doesn’t. Suddenly, she’s alone and doesn’t have me to take care of her
. It’s a sad state of affairs when I am the constant. She loves how she felt when she was with me, she doesn’t actually love me.”
“She asked to come back. Take her now and she’ll give you everything you could have asked for.” Hera knew this to be true, because it’s what she would have done when she was a young godling easily led by her mother.
“It won’t be real,” he answered as if he’d only now awakened from a dream.
“Is anything?”
“It doesn’t matter now.”
Oh, but it did. Hera thought back to where his heart lay in the box. It mattered more than he could know. How did he not see it? He was still sacrificing for this woman. No matter if his heart beat within his chest or shriveled to nothing outside of it, he loved Persephone.
Hera wondered what it would feel like to be loved with that kind of devotion. Zeus had never loved her so thoroughly. Not even in the beginning. She swallowed against the emotion rising in her and reached out to touch his face, grazed her thumb over his cheek.
“No, I don’t suppose it does.”
“Why do you want this, Hera? Are you another Persephone, here because you remembered me as a young god and what you felt then is better than what you have now?”
“That’s part of it, but not the big picture. You already told me you can’t love me. I accept that. I mean, Zeus doesn’t so it’s not like I don’t know what I’m offering. You’ve never lied to me, Hades. We could build a good life on that, a strong monarchy. Zeus cares only for himself and where his next bit of pussy is coming from. You may never love me, but with trust and fidelity, we could find a bit of happiness,” she promised.
“And punish my brother.”
“That’s definitely one of the benefits. Is that what you don’t like? Do you think I’m using you to punish Zeus?”
“Aren’t you?” he said as he cupped her cheek and mirrored her caress.
“Yes, but I was honest about it. I’ve spent enough years being unhappy and this thing? I’m talking about forever. Commitment. Not just revenge. Why would I damn myself to more misery?”
“Because knowing Zeus is miserable too would be worth the price.” Hades sounded as if he were an expert in such matters.
“Not to me, it’s not. Our existences are too long to spend them in misery.” She leaned into him and he allowed her to brush her lips against his cheek. “I’ve often wondered what would have happened had I not listened to my mother and accepted when you asked for me. I regret that I didn’t.”
“I have my faults, Hera. It sounds as if you’ve made me into some redeemable hero who just got lost in the dark.”
That was exactly what she’d made him out to be and she made no bones about it. He was so damn noble it made her ache, but he was flawed enough to be real. She kissed his cheek again, this time closer to the bitter slash of his mouth. And closer again until her lips brushed his. It was bitter, but not like what she’d expected. It was sweet too, like dark chocolate. “Yes.”
“This thing, it will crash and burn for all the reasons your mother gave you and more. I’m not the guy who wins, Hera. I’ll only hurt you.”
“Then hurt me.” She crashed her mouth into his; she was the aggressor, taking what she wanted from him, demanding everything he had. “I’ve told you if pain is all you have, mark me with it. Dance with me in the dark, Hades.”
He conquered with his surrender and pushed her back on the bed. Hades slid up the length of her body and he studied her, their gazes locked for a long moment before he took any other action. She didn’t know what he was looking for, but she didn’t turn her eyes away. Let him look, let him see anything he wanted to see. There would be no secrets between them, no lies.
He pushed her hair out of her face carefully and his attention was drawn to her mouth, her lips parted in expectation and her breath hitched. She wanted to taste him again. He stroked his fingers down her side to her hip and Hera was surprised at how gentle he was.
How could he be so blind? He had so much more to give than the dark. If only she could make him see. In that moment, she was determined he’d know the kind of god he was and she’d keep his heart safe. She’d never let anything hurt him like that again; Hades would never need to question his worth with her.
“I’m not going to break,” she promised.
He looked away from her now, dragged his cheek against hers and buried his face in her hair.
This must have been all Persephone had allowed him. From his reaction, this was where she would become afraid and Hera couldn’t blame her. Hades’ cock was pressed against her belly and while Hera was an experienced goddess and she was wet for him, she was a little afraid. Zeus had never been packing anything like this.
“Would you still want this if I refuse my brother’s throne?” he whispered against her ear.
Hera hooked her legs around his and eased him more firmly against her. “Yes.”
“Then gods help you.” He said this as if he actually pitied her, but it didn’t stop him from moving his hands up over her body to cup her breasts.
She made short work of his velvet coat and bemoaned his penchant for dress-up. It looked so fucking good on him, but it would have been easier to peel him out of a t-shirt and jeans. He’d look good in that too, with his muscular thighs and perfect ass. He’d look even better naked.
Hera wondered if he was thinking the same thing about her costume, but he didn’t seem to mind unlacing her corset. He took his time, each eyelet that was released bared a bit more of her skin and Hades devoured each new vision of flesh.
Her nipples tightened in expectation of his touch and he skimmed his fingers over the exposed globes of her breasts. When he’d finally unlaced her completely, Hades pulled back from her and his intent stare on her naked skin made her as hot as anything he could have done with his hands.
The way his eyes raked over her made her feel like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Again, Hera wondered if he’d looked at Persephone like that, with dark promise burning his countenance. How had she turned him away, tossed this worship aside like it was nothing? Stupid girl.
He dipped his head and touched his lips to her stomach, before unbuttoning her leather pants with his teeth and tugging them down her legs. Her panties were next and he paused, as if expecting her to refuse him, but she lifted her hips and in a moment, she was completely bare to him, but he was still wearing his breeches and boots.
And he was beautiful in the candlelight. Mortals used “built like a Greek god” as a model for perfection, but Hades surpassed them all. His body was like living marble, so hard and smooth—sculpted by a master. But it wasn’t cold, it was infused with warmth. His shoulders were wide, as wide as Atlas’, his corded arms were strong, but the safety in his embrace didn’t come from only that strength. It came from somewhere deep beneath that dark, jagged scar where his heart had been.
What was he waiting for? Didn’t he want her?
“Please,” she begged.
“Why are you here, Hera? You’re too beautiful to want this with me,” Hades said in a defeated tone.
His words twisted her gut as she remembered the young, arrogant god who’d tried to seduce her in Aphrodite’s grotto. He hadn’t thought anything above him—all the world was his for the choosing.
Hera leaned up to him and kissed him softly. “Touch me, Hades. I need you.”
She did need him, whereas before she’d decided she wanted him, she’d slipped somewhere and fallen into something she wasn’t ready to face. All she knew was that if he didn’t touch her now, she’d die. Her body would incinerate with her need.
He groaned at her entreaty and bent over her, his mouth ready to pleasure her.
“No,” Hera growled and tugged on his hair to pull him back up to her face.
“No pleasure? Do you want pain, then?” he asked, ready to indulge her desires.
“Feel how wet I am for you already.” She guided his hand between her thighs. “I don’t need an org
asm to want you inside me.”
It was true, she’d had mouths on her slit, tongues working her clit and while they’d made her come, it was nothing compared to bliss Hera felt from the brush of his fingers, his breath on her neck, or what she knew she’d feel when he was thrusting into her.
The dark slashes of his brows came together over his blue-flamed eyes. “But I want to, Hera. I want to taste you on my lips and feel you clench around my fingers and tongue. I want to hear you scream my name and when I do fuck you, I want your nails so deep in my back I bleed.”
His words sent shivers of expectation shooting through her. His dark promises resonated in her core. She kept her fingers clenched in his hair and he kept his eyes fixed on hers as he descended between her thighs.
The first touch was all that he vowed and the intensity made her want to close her eyes, but she couldn’t look away from him. She imagined this was much like how a rabbit felt before a hungry wolf tore it to pieces. Hera was poised on a precipice and she couldn’t see the bottom, but she knew in a moment the ground would crumble away and she’d fall into the pitch.
She trembled with her need and when fear would have made her retreat, Hera rallied. She guided him closer to his task. He pushed two fingers inside of her with no preamble. His caress was rough, but practiced and he knew how he filled her, stretched her. Made her feel marked. Just as she’d demanded.
Hera gasped when he started to thrust with his fingers and he leaned back, his lips wet with her essence and his forefinger replaced his tongue on her clit. He licked his lips slowly, savoring what he found there and she clenched hard, her hands fisted in the sheets.
“Already?” Hades raised a brow and smirked; an expression of supreme male confidence.
Her body was an instrument and he was a master musician. He knew which notes to play and how to strum the threads that held her together. Hades could take her apart at will, touch her note by note, or give her sensation in a symphony.
He stopped the caress, knowing she was on edge and leaned back over her and pressed his mouth to her hip in a chaste kissed that had no business on the seductive curve of his lips. Yet, he wasn’t as unaffected as he would have had her believe. There was the occasional tremor in his hands, as if he waited for her to tell him no, to deny him whatever he would have of her next.
Ambrosia Lane 1-3: Saranna DeWylde Page 9
