My Lord Hades (14 page)

Nothing could ever erase that hurt.

“Persephone?” Hades said softly.

She looked up, seeing concren in his eyes from where he crouched. She threw herself into his arms. Hades gathered her into his arms, cradling her against his chest, and there was nowhere she would rather be. She needed her Hades. She needed his strength, his passion, his presence. She needed his touch; she needed to remember and to forget.

“Hush, sweetling. He’s gone and it will take him weeks to return home.”

“What was he trying to do?”

“What others may try He wanted to claim you for his own.”

She looked up at Hades’ hard face. “What did you do to him?”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “Unfortunately, nothing permanent.”

Hades smiled down at her, tenderly wiping the tears from her cheeks. Persephone knew she

wasn’t a pretty crier. Her face would be red and botchy, her eyes puffy, and her nose was running, and yet Hades didn’t seem to notice. He held her as if she was the most precious possession.

HADES CURSED whoever had taken Persephone’s power from her, because with it she

never would have fallen victim to Apollo. She would have been able to take care of the problem herself. And then he wouldn’t be sitting here debating the unspeakable.

He wouldn’t be trying to sooth the sobbing Persephone or thinking about imprisoning Apollo in Tartarus until the end of time. He wouldn’t be contemplating taking Persephone away from this all and keeping her safe and hidden in the Underworld until he could figure out his own mind and heart.

He wanted this tiny slip of a woman and he wanted the Underworld, but he couldn’t have

both. He needed to make a decision and he needed to make it before tomorrow at noon.

“How did you know?” she mumbled into his tunic.

Hades looked down at her and blinked. Closing his eyes and taking several deep breaths to clear the raging need to either find Apollo and beat him or lean Persephone back and kiss her senseless, Hades looked down at her again. He tried to ignore the creamy expanse of perfect breasts with pink nipples spilling from her ripped bodice.

By the gods, he wanted her!

“You called me to you and I could refuse you nothing,” he whispered. His voice was husky

with desire. He brushed a lock of hair from her face and shifted his weight. “Let’s make you presentable, sweetling.”

Hades rose and drew her with him. Touching as little as possible, his hands skimming the

bodice of her dress and his magic healing the rip, leaving her once more decently covered. He tilted her face to his, and couldn’t stop himself from raining little kisses upon her tender cheek.

She giggled, her hands fisting the cloth of his tunic. The faint hint of a bruise faded. His lips tingled with the magic flowing below the surface of her skin. The incident had opened her bit more to her magic. Soon she would notice the difference in her as would everyone else.

Looking down into her face, he saw his world filled with love and happiness. She was what he needed, the only person he would ever need.

“Come with me, Persephone. Be my queen. Rule at my side. I may not have the sun to offer

you, but I’ll cherish you forever. All that I have will be yours.”

“I…I—”

“Persephone!”

“HERE!”

Hades pulled her back to him, kissing her until her toes curled and she wanted to shout ‘yes!’

Yes, she would go with him. Yes, she would go to the Underworld if it meant she would be with him. But she couldn’t marry him.

She wouldn’t marry anyone until she knew who she was. Her memories and her magic were

so close to the surface. She could feel them waiting for her, just out of reach, ready to show her the world she had forgotten. It wouldn’t be fair to him if later things changed between them because she changed with their return.

“Don’t go,” she said.

“I must,” he whispered in her ear.

He slipped the helmet on his head, disappearing from sight. She reached out to grip his cloak.

“Persephone!” Demeter bounded down the steps, her face anxious and flushed. “We’re

leaving here now!”

“You can’t. Not until Zeus releases her,” Hestia puffed, joining them.

“What’s happened?” Persephone asked.

“I won’t allow it, Hestia!”

Hestia sighed. “I’m not saying Persephone has to get married, Demeter, but she should have the choice. Our children grow up and they need to find their way in the world. They need to make decisions.”

“She doesn’t need the misery that comes with men.”

“There are some things a man can offer a woman—”

“Stop it, both of you!” Persephone commanded. “I’m not a child! I’m old enough to make

my own choices! Now what has happened?”

“You’re not ready!”

Hades stroked her hair. His presence offered comfort and courage to press the issue. “You can’t tell me what to do for the rest of my immortal life, Mother.”

Demeter slapped her, the sharp sound echoing through the still air. Persephone’s head

snapped back, hitting Hades chest. She blinked, cradling her stinging cheek and glaring at Demeter.

Her mother had none of the force Apollo had, yet it hurt more. To the best of her memory, her mother had never raised a hand to her before.

A chill coursed through the air and she knew it came from Hades. He took a step closer and stopped. Persephone wondered why he hesitated.

“Demeter!” Hestia cried, shocked.

“Zeus wants to bind her to one of the gods in marriage.”

Her emotions, so close to the surface, spilled outward. Frustration, anger, and desire. Behind her back, Persephone discreetly held Hades’ hand. “I’ll not allow anyone to dictate my life.

When I’m ready I
will
marry and I
will
have children.”

Demeter sniffed as a tear trickled down her cheek. “They’ve poisoned your mind.”

She tightened her hold on Hades’ hand. “This has nothing to do with anyone but me.”

Demeter’s face hardened. “No. You’re not ready!”

“Shouldn’t I be the judge of that?”

Demeter grabbed her arm and Persephone’s skin prickled. “I love you, my dear. But I can’t lose you again.” She took her daughter’s face in her hands. “Don’t worry. The pain is temporary.

You won’t remember it. You never do.”

A single image filled her mind. A face she recognized from Apollo’s attack but she couldn’t remember. White hair. White beard. Eyes like chipped obsidian.

For one moment, she teetered on the precipice of understanding before the silent cord of pain slithered up her spine and into the recesses of her mind, skittering along the strands of the magical web cast over her consciousness.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

HADES WORRIED his lip as he closed the mouth of the bag. Thanatos had assured him that

a Bride Price was still an acceptable practice and he hoped that Zeus would accept the gems. But meeting his bride and having Zeus accept the bride price wasn’t his biggest concern.

What women would he ask Zeus for? He could marry Persephone, lose his kingdom and

everything he worked to accomplish here when the Iron Queen returned, or he could marry the Iron Queen, have his kingdom and lose Persephone and his chance at happiness. He couldn’t have both.

It wouldn’t seem like such a difficult decision, but it was one of the most important of his life. He knew Persephone was drawn to him. He knew that she wanted to one day marry and

have children. But did she want to build that life with him?

He feared the desire he held for Persephone may be something stronger than his need to

secure his kingdom, and yet he feared he wasn’t just destroying his life, but those of two women because he refused to explore this daemon obsession.

“Don’t tell me you’re playing with women’s things again?”

Hades groaned. He really didn’t want to deal with Eris this morning. “I thought the living didn’t venture to the Underworld.”

“I heard the shades in the Asphodel Fields have been granted access to the Elysian Fields. I had to come and see it for myself.” Eris snorted, twirling a black strand of curly hair around her fingers. “And now I find you playing with your jewels. Not a very masculine trait.”

“According to you, it’s not a feminine one either,” he said, pretending to misunderstand her.

He tucked the bag into the pocket of his cloak. “You’ve seen the fields. Now go.”

She gasped and brought her hand to her throat. “Is that any way for you to talk to your

mother? I might find it in my heart to cry.”

He sneered. “The ability to give birth doesn’t make you a mother any more than being a

living creature gives you a heart.”

She grinned. “At least you haven’t lost your ability to attack. Who’s the girl?”

He pushed past her, but she grabbed his arm, digging her long nails into his flesh. He glared at her hand and then singed her fingers. She released him, shaking her hand, and frowning at her burnt nails.

“Don’t you have someone else to bother?”

“Nope. I’m free.”

“And bored.”

He tried to walk away, but she flashed in front of him. “It’s a woman, isn’t it?” She took hold of his face and stared into his eyes. He looked away. She planted a motherly kiss on his forehead.

“Just make sure this one isn’t mortal. Or stupid. Or pathetic. Or too weak for your powers. Or-”

He sighed and left, flashing to the forge of Hephaestus. Thanatos had suggested he take a trip to Hephaestus’ smithy to pick out a gift and he decided to take his advice.

The place was dark, stale, humid, and busy. A few servants rushed around the gloomy cavern, and one almost ran into him. He stepped back and spotted the crippled Hephaestus.

The god glanced up from the metal shield he was etching the symbol of Ares into and studied Hades. Hades remained still, allowing the perusal. He had time yet.

“Who are you?! And what do you want?!” Hephaestus growled.

Hades might have bristled at the tone, but something in the man’s stance revealed neither anger nor threat. Hephaestus was a short, lame god, hidden away in this place because he lacked the beauty the gods prized rather than the decency of character. He had the right to his gruff bitterness.

“Hades. Thanatos suggested I come and ask…” He raised his brow. “Hephaestus, who I

believe you are, for a bridal gift.”

“What was your first clue?” he snarled, true anger in his voice now. “The lame leg? Or the sunny disposition?”

Hades couldn’t stop himself. He smiled. “Neither, actually. It was the cowering servants

looking as if I would eat them and sidling closer to the one god they believe could protect them.”

He looked the god up and down as if sizing him up for the first time. “I think they’re smarter than most give them credit for. You’re a kind master who can take on most gods.”

Hephaestus laughed. A deep, full belly laugh that shook the cavern, rolled down the passages, and sent the servants scurrying from the chamber. “Thanatos said I’d like you.”

“I didn’t spook you by showing up out of thin air?”

Hephaestus grinned. “Not as much as you wanted, I’m sure.”

He threw the shield aside, denting the rim, and limped toward another table covered with

finished items of gold, silver, copper, and brass. There were vases, weapons, jewelry, boxes, plates, and gem encrusted goblets. He dug through the pile and finally lifted a large, simple silver box.

Hades watched the god with interest. Why wasn’t Hephaestus as frightened of him as the

other gods were? He looked him in the eye, treated him like a friend, and didn’t blink when he appeared out of thin air. Hades wanted to ask but refrained. He was happy to have one of the Olympians treat him as an equal. Though considering Hephaestus’ crippled body and slightly disfigured face, he was as much as an outsider as Hades was. And that was an answer in itself.

Neither belonged with the Olympians, and therefore, they were allies to each other.

Hephaestus placed the box on a work bench and opened the lid. “Well? Come look, my

friend. I think you’ll like them.”

Hades looked into the box. Inside, resting upon red velvet were two crowns of the finest

workmanship. The first was a delicate cornet of twisted silver and jeweled amethyst flowers with topaz centers. Some type of flower he couldn’t name but was sure Persephone could.

The second was a heavier crown of thicker silver willow branches twining around and

around. As beautiful as the crowns were, he didn’t want someone else’s cast offs.

“Will it suit?”

Hades turned to the crippled god. “They’re perfect, but who were they made for?”

“You. Thanatos said you’d need them, but wouldn’t think to ask for them until too late”

“Sneaky bastard.”

Hephaestus glanced sideways at him. “Death usually is. He convinced the Olympians to give you the Underworld instead of returning you to Tartarus,” he rumbled, carefully lifting the man’s crown. “I almost wish they’d tried. It would have been fun to watch you kick their collective asses.”

“I might still,” Hades growled through clenched teeth. He struggled to contain his fury at the knowledge Hephaestus had imparted to him. So the gods had thought to imprison him again.

They would’ve betrayed the god who gave them their victory. And Zeus, the cheating god, had never intended to keep his word. Only Thanatos’ meddling had saved the Olympians.

He wanted to shout his fury to the sky and challenge Zeus. He wanted to maim and destroy.

He wanted to tear the pompous god from his throne and give him a taste of the horrors in

Tartarus. But by the thinnest thread, he controlled himself. He was a warrior, a trained killer, not an angry child. He must think like a warrior, a stealthy assassin, and strike at the heart of the Olympians. He would make them rue the day they thought to betray him.

He forced himself to smile. “You did an excellent job.”

“May you have better luck with your bride, than I’ve had with mine.”

Hades inclined his head. “May your bride realize the prize she has in you, smith.”