A bark caught her attention. The hounds ran in the fields, their long bodies flexing as they covered the ground with broad sweeping leaps. She smiled, watching the eldest trip the youngest. They tumbled in the grass, circling each other and running again.
Persephone grabbed her cloak and headed out, running from the house and across the bridge to the fields. The youngest greeted her, panting heavily and wagging his thin black tail.
“Good morning,” she murmured, rubbing its broad head.
It felt good to stretch her legs. Before she knew it, she was running with the hounds. They were much faster than she was, but they circled back, racing circles around her when she’d slow.
She eventually collapsed, letting herself fall back on the soft, thick grasses of Asphodel.
Why was he making this so difficult?
She’d hoped that his control would falter, that he would finally accept their fate as she had. But it was not to be. He rejected that their fates were intertwined together, forever.
The clouds grew grey, thickening strangely as she watched.
“I’m like that cloud,” she whispered to the hound at her side. He turned his head and looked at her, ears cocked. “Whatever is inside of me is building and growing until I fear I’ll burst from it.”
The hound lay down again, but she sat up. She knew the truth of it. Her mind and body ached for him, consumed by some sort of throbbing fever. She would tell Hades the truth, what was in her heart. She stood, heading towards the fortress with renewed purpose. The sky grew ever darker as she crossed the bridge, and she glanced up. The clouds thickened, rolling in strange patterns overhead.
She headed to the hall. Mayhap it wasn’t too late? If he had not sent for Hermes she might be able to stay. And she would be thankful for every day she had with him. She turned into the hall, ever hopeful.
“Can he save her?” A woman’s voice brought her up short. A woman? She did not care for the twist of her stomach or the flash of anger tightening her throat.
In her time here, Hermes had been the only guest. Only shades and ghosts roamed the Underworld, and they never entered Hades’ home. She moved forward, her bare feet silent on the cold stone floor, to peer around the doorway. But seeing the creature that spoke offered little comforted.
This woman was true perfection.
“Is there nothing else to be done for him?” The woman’s massive blue eyes were fixed upon Hades.
Even her voice was lovely.
Persephone watched, unable to tear her eyes away from Hades. He said nothing. His face, his beautiful face, remained impassive. It was an expression she was all too familiar with. He was hiding something. But what?
The woman whispered, “You would deprive him of her?”
“No…” Hades’ voice was hard. “I control all within my realm.”
The woman’s long blond locks swayed, emphasizing the shake of her head as she spoke again. It was the woman’s words, not her voice or face or curves that held Persephone’s attention now. “No… you would tamper with the firestorm. You would ensure he catches her when she falls…You champion them still. Hades, had I known you to be so merciful…” the woman sounded close to tears.
He championed who? A man… and his woman?
“It matters not, Aphrodite,” he spoke quickly, his tone even and strong.
Aphrodite? The Goddess of Love? She saw the good in Hades… Persephone’s heart tightened at his words. Perhaps his heart was not so untouched?
“It matters a great deal.” Aphrodite moved forward, placing her small hand upon his arm. Persephone felt jealousy churn hot in her stomach. “To Ariston and his Medusa. They’ve been sorely abused. But you....”
Persephone smiled. He had championed the soldier and his lady wife. Her heart swelled in her chest, pressing against her lungs and throat.
Of course he had.
“They will never know of it.” His words were a command. “And neither will those on Olympus. I demand your vow on this, Aphrodite.”
He was merciful, though none would suspect it. His modesty astounded her. He seemed well pleased to let the worst be thought of him. It was an injustice, for this god was worthy of tributes and fealty. She shook her head. He was worthy of that and much more. But he needed, wanted, none of that.
Hades’ hooded eyes bore into those of the Goddess, waiting.
“You have it.” Aphrodite’s words eased her.
Persephone watched as he nodded and then moved towards the fire. He stared into it, as if mesmerized, standing rigid… anxious.
How she longed to go to him.
“You’ve fulfilled your purpose for visiting my realm, Aphrodite. You’ve bestowed Olympus’ gift upon the soldier. I doubt you find any more pleasure in the Underworld than I do on Olympus.” He was dismissing her, sending her away. And Persephone was glad.
“I leave you then.” Aphrodite sighed. “And will recount only Ariston’s part in this.”
“Fare thee well.” He did not turn as he spoke.
“Your heart should not be left in this place,” the goddess said in parting. “It is too full, too warm for such a lonely and dismal existence.”
He is not alone. He will never be lonely.
She waited until Aphrodite was gone before she stepped into the room. But then he did something that stopped her.
He stared at a white flower… It was the lily she’d given him in the meadow, resting atop the mantle. Her heart tightened. He’d kept it?
He reached up, tracing one petal with an unsteady finger. The tremor of his hand, the look on his face, made her rejoice.
He turned abruptly from the fire to his chair and sat heavily. He leaned forward to cover his face with his hands, his breath unsteady and ragged.
She could bear it no longer. He suffered. She suffered.
For what purpose?
She ignored the wild beating of her heart. Warmth coursed through her, burning low and hot in the pit of her stomach. She wanted him, all of him. And she would make certain he knew as much.
Her feet carried her to him, each step more daunting than the last.
Be brave, Persephone. His words echoed in her head.
“My lord.” Her voice was too soft. Had he heard her?
He lifted his head from his hands, surprised by her presence. He recovered quickly, straightening rigidly. The haunted look she glimpsed was shuttered away and replaced by his careful mask of indifference. Oh how she longed to touch his face, to cup his cheek and hold him close to her. He had no need to withhold himself from her, no need to be careful with her.
“Persephone.”
She was not deterred by his coolness. Her steps were cautious, but she made her way to him. She would not stop now. Her voice was steadier. “Aphrodite?”
His eyes narrowed, briefly. “Aphrodite is gone.”
She drew in a slow breath. “I thought as much.” Finally, she stood before him. Surely he could sense her agitation? Surely he could hear her heart? Her tunic, the front of her peplos, seemed to quiver in time with its frantic beating.
He clutched the arms of his throne. The line of his jaw grew tight. Tension rolled from him, making her swallow. How to begin?
“I’ve not asked you for anything in my time here.” She paused. “Have I?”
He shook his head once, all the while his deep blue eyes boring into hers.
I must tell him I love him, tell him I need him, as my love… or my husband. But his gaze unnerved her. The words that poured from her lips were not what she planned, “Nor would I trouble you now, if my need were not so great.” Her voice was no steadier than her pulse. She was making no sense.
He swallowed, then asked harshly, “What is it?”
His tone almost made her wince, but she forced herself to meet his gaze – so he would know her intent. Her mind raced, searching for the words she needed, as she sank to her knees before him. His hands were taut, his fingers white as he clenched the arms of his throne. She reached up and
covered his hands with hers.
It felt better then. She felt better. She could go on.
Yet he no longer looked at her face. His eyes stared at her hands on his. His chest rose and fell. The muscle in his jaw bulged.
She drew in another deep breath. “Show me mercy. Show me the same mercy you’ve bestowed upon your mortal… the soldier Ariston.” Her hands clung to his.
He glanced at her, his hands gripping the throne harder.
“Have I been cruel? That you feel the need to beg for anything from me?” His voice was low. She shook her head, and he continued, “Then why do you kneel before me?” His words were a harsh whisper, testing her resolve.
“It is a selfish request, one that may turn you from solicitous to … sickened.” Words failed her. His hostility was quickly stealing her determination. She glanced at him, but his eyes were fixed upon her hands, wrapped about his. The slight crease settled on his brow. She stared at his brow, knowing she was failing miserably to explain the necessity of their union.
“Ask me,” he murmured, huskily.
“My lover… Release him.” Her eyes burned, the well of unshed tears surprising her. “Release the man who loves me, please.” There, she’d said it. But he tensed, his eyes closed.
What had she said?
When he looked at her, pain filled his deep blue eyes. Pain the depths of which she’d not expected. He did not conceal it from her. For one brief moment, he looked a broken man. And she could not bear such a sight. Her hands tightened about his, pulling them from the arm rails.
“Who is this man? What…what mortal… who is it?” He spoke, a rasping, anguished whisper.
She frowned. She’d made a mess of things. “No… no…”
Hades’ home shook, the very mountain it was carved into trembling. Thunder, louder than any she’d ever heard, set the very air vibrating. “What is happening?” Another tremor rattled the mountain, sending her reeling. He caught her, the strength of his arms easing her panic.
“A firestorm,” he spoke softly.
“A firestorm?” she asked. His hands held her shoulders, distracting her.
His hands slipped from her shoulders as the room stilled.
“Is it done?” She waited, wondering what would happen next.
“No. Not yet.” He did not look at her as he hurried to the balcony.
She ran after him, frustration and curiosity warring within her. She stepped onto the balcony, eager to express herself. But the sight that greeted stunned her into silence. The murky skies of the Underworld were full black. Strange clouds, churning and twisting, hovered over the fields of Asphodel. The wind roared, bowing the grasses flat before sending the tree limbs sharply upward.
She gasped. Within the clouds, pockets of red and orange leapt and fell. Fire. She glanced at Hades, looking for reassurance. But he stood, staring into the fields before them. His hands gripped the stone of the balcony, his stance at the ready.
But ready for what? She moved to his side, growing ever concerned by the roar of the wind, the flashes of strange fire and lightening. His attention did not waver. She shielded her face from the winds and followed his gaze. The fields were empty, save one.
A man stood, peering up.
Another tremor shook them. But Persephone’s eyes remained fixed upon the man. The sky snapped, thunder boomed, and a large hole appeared at his feet. He slipped, one foot sliding forward, before he jumped back from the edge. It gaped angrily, casting a red glow on the grasses lining the sudden gash.
Persephone moved forward, gripping the railing of the banister at Hades’ side. Fire rose from below, lightening forced from above, both caught in the spiraling winds. The man braced himself as the gust of fire wrapped and twisted about him. Orange flames seared, lightening licked and pricked, yet he did not move. The wind picked up, the flames rising with it. His wheaten curls lifted and fell, but the billowing folds of his exomie burned away. And still his gaze remained constant on the clouds above.
The clouds split, unleashing ice and rain upon him.
“Why does he not seek shelter?” she whispered, vaguely aware that Hades stood beside her.
His voice was low. “He is waiting.”
“For what?”
But Persephone saw her then. A woman fell, tumbling from the angry black clouds. Skeins of long honey hair streamed up, shielding her face from view. The man in the field leaned forward, teetering precariously on the edge of the open hole. His feet and legs were red, slipping closer to the entrance. His every muscle tightened, readying.
The wind fell still.
She gripped Hades’ arm. “He will fall…”
“They will not.” Hades lifted his hand, his fingers rippling slowly, forcefully, pulling towards himself in one undulating wave.
A sudden gust caught the woman, casting her safely into the man’s arms. Hades scooped his hand sharply, pulling his arm towards his chest. The wind echoed his motion, lifting and carrying the pair far from the gaping hole. Hades exhaled. His hand opened, falling back to the railing, and releasing the couple upon the thick grasses of Asphodel.
The sky cleared, the clouds rolling back with a startling speed. The roaring wind softened. And the hole vanished, leaving the field whole, its grasses waving calmly in the ever present breeze.
But Persephone could not tear her eyes from the couple. The man sat up, cradling the woman with an almost reverent tenderness. He swept the hair from the woman’s face, cupping her cheek. His smile was blinding as he pulled her limp form to him.
“This is him? Ariston?” Persephone did not care that tears rolled down her cheek.
“It is.” Hades’ voice was husky.
Ariston was gazing at the woman, speaking to her. The woman moved then, touching his lips and stroking his cheek. She pressed her lips to Ariston’s, wrapping her arms about him fiercely.
Persephone turned from them, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Such a bittersweet reunion.”
“There is no sadness there,” he murmured. “There is only joy.”
She looked back to find the pair. The woman stood, pulling Ariston up. She wrapped her arms about him and leaned into him as he kissed her soundly. Persephone heard the woman laugh, and smiled as the two headed to the shore. A boat waited.
“Elysium?” she asked, turning her still wet eyes to him.
He barely glanced at her as he made his way back inside the hall. “Yes.”
She watched them. They held tightly to each other, climbing into the boat and sailing to the end of their journey. Hades was right; there was no sadness there. Such pleasure, such joy… she envied them. They would never be parted.
“You’d come to me for aid with your love,” Hades said, his words clipped.
She took a deep breath, watching the couple a moment longer. She turned, joining him in the hall. “Hades,” she murmured, unable to stop the quiver in her voice. She had no time to delay. He would send her away soon. And she knew, somehow, he’d take pains to avoid ever seeing her again.
He glanced at her, resting one hard arm across the polished black mantle. He turned, ill at ease. He pushed off the mantle, paced the room and sat in his chair. His every muscle tensed as he turned his gaze upon her. She shook her head, coming to stand before him.
“It is you, Hades,” she whispered, placing her hand over her chest. Her heart seemed to stop as she waited for some sign, some reaction, to her clumsy confession. “It is you.”
His face revealed all.
Gone was the blank mask he wore. His pain and anger vanished, replaced by doubt and disbelief. His eyes widened, the crease marring his brow deepening as he searched her face. His inspection was wary, until his eyes fastened on her lips. The muscles in his throat and jaw flexed, his nostrils flared slightly.
She saw it, knew it for what it was. His mind might resist her, but his body did not. It was a start…
Ignoring the nervousness that tightened her stomach and squeezed her lungs, she moved forward, slid
ing onto his lap. He stiffened, but she did not hesitate. She faced him, her legs resting on either side of his thighs. He was very warm. He could toss her onto the floor, order her to leave, curse her… but she would not make it easy for him.
Her eyes met his, trembling from the hunger that gripped her. Did he feel it too?
She placed her hands on his shoulders and met his gaze. “I beg of you,” she whispered, leaning so close that her breath mingled with his. Dizziness swept through her, the heat in her belly making her light-headed. “Fight me no more.”
His eyes strayed to her lips again. She felt his hands twist in the fabric of her peplos, pressing against her hip. Whether he meant to set her away from him or draw her close, she could not tell. Mayhap he didn’t know either. She would help him decide.
Her hand lifted, brushing the midnight hair from his forehead and trailing down the side of his face. His eyes closed when her thumb grazed the slope of his cheek and nose. Her skin tingled at the contact.
Such fine features, so strong and handsome.
She exhaled slowly, the sound echoing in the still chamber. Her eyes dropped, tracing his lips, and her hand followed.
His hand caught her wrist, stilling her. His eyes were dark, almost black, as they bore into hers. But his hand trembled about her wrist, and her heart ached for him. She drew his hand to her lips, pressing a kiss on each of his knuckles and cradling his hand to her chest.
She heard his sharp intake of breath, but did not stop. She placed his hand against her cheek, holding it in place as she leaned forward to kiss him.
Once her lips found his, any hesitancy left her. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, yet not close enough. Her mouth clung desperately, breathing in his breath as his lips parted beneath hers.
His hand slid from her cheek, and she tensed, waiting for him to set her away from him. But he freed her hair, spreading the heavy locks about her shoulders.
He pulled back, staring at her, her face, her eyes, and her lips. His eyes were not so guarded, his desire warred with fear. “Persephone…”
“I will not leave you, Hades. Not tonight, nor tomorrow, never of my choosing. I swear it…” She spoke desperately. “I love you. You have my heart. Please… take the rest of me too.”
For the Love of Hades (The Loves of Olympus) Page 16
