My Lord Hades (36 page)

But the same excuse couldn’t be given her mother.

“Enough,” she cried and the ball of energy shattered.

She faced the sad and lonely faces of mortals who’d suffered. The shades of mortals who’d left their loved ones behind to continue the suffering. And all because of her. She watched them pass. She watched them disappear into the darkness. She saw the accusation in their eyes.

“Destroyer,” one hissed at her. “Persephone. Your name brings death.”

She tried to shut the accusation from her mind, but it lodged itself into her heart and beat fiercely in her chest in painful rhythm. Destroyer. Death. Devastation. She was no longer the daughter of Demeter, the goddess of the harvest. She was Persephone, daughter of Thanatos, Death. She was the Destroyer of mortals, the goddess of Death, the Queen of the Underworld.

Her heart ached and her tears flowed. She was now to be dreaded, feared, and loathed. The realization burned into her soul and she wept for that which she lost and could never be again.

Zeus laid a hand on her shoulder. “We have to be going, Persephone.”

She wiped the tears from her cheeks and looked at Zeus, determined to set right this grievous wrong. Gathering her magic around her like a cloak, she stepped forward and let it spread outward. The air around her stirred and immediately warming. Like a disease spreading outward, affecting everything it touched.

Zeus drew back, staring at her with horror. “Gods help us. You’re a Phlegethon.”

So, even the mighty Zeus, hadn’t known the full extent of her power and what she was.

“Does that really surprise you, Zeus? Hades could have no other than one of his own.”

She felt no reason to explain further. Whatever Zeus knew about Hades or Demeter’s liaison with Thanatos, she didn’t care to know. She had other matters to tend to now.

The daughter of Death stepped forward, and the earth sprang to life, reborn. Wisps of warmth twisted deep beneath the earth and Rhea’s magic touched hers, waking it from its long slumber to thaw the ground and melt the snows. Life burst forward, blooming and thriving.

But for the shades, it was too late. And there wasn’t nothing she could do about it.

SHE WOKE to voices in the villa, one her mother, the other a man. For a moment her heart

leapt at the thought that Hades had come for her. But she soon recognized the voice as belonging to Hermes. She groaned and sat up. Every muscle in her body ached.

All her focus, strength, and magic had gone into healing the world, and four days after her emergence from the Underworld, the healing magic Persephone had unleashed upon the earth

returned it to its natural state. With the help of Rhea, the fields brought forth their bounty and the mortals began to heal. The mortality rate decreased, and the balance of life and death was restored. All was well again.

All, except her heart.

She’d returned to the villa and snuggled into her blankets and slept, knowing that now that she was back, her mother could maintain the spring. Her plans were to confront her mother, but upon waking she thought it best to postpone it until she was up to the fight.

Leaving the bed, she opened her wardrobe and started at the selection of cloth. Pastel pinks, blues, yellows, lavenders, and greens. She hated them all. Picking out a plain white dress, she slipped into it and left her room.

Hermes was eating breakfast at the table, speaking to Demeter about the state of the world and the mortals with great relish, his mouth full of food. “They’re praising you, Demeter, for returning the spring, and they’re building temples in your name.” He glanced at Persephone and swallowed his food, the glint of malice in his eyes. “Many fear the return of the Destroyer.”

Persephone’s eyes narrowed. “Since the Destroyer had little to do with it, maybe they should fear the goddess who did.”

“Hush,” Demeter scolded her, placing a bowl of fruit on the table and motioning for her to sit.

Demeter was pleased by the news. But why wouldn’t she be? The world was praising her.

Her daughter was home. Everything was as she would have it. It didn’t matter that it would’ve taken her months to accomplish what Persephone did in a week.

Demeter sat beside Hermes. “Hades brought this terrible devastation upon us all. They have a right to fear him.”

Persephone blinked. How blind could the woman be?! Hades wasn’t the Destroyer they

feared.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You must eat, Persephone. You haven’t eaten in days.”

Persephone laughed and walked out the door. Every dish laid before her since her return to the world above had no taste or made her sick. She wished for a bowl of Penelope’s mutton stew, or leek soup. Anything but fruit.

She barely started down the hill when the door burst open and her mother’s cry split the

peace of the morning, “Persephone! Persephone, where are you?”

She sighed and turned. “I’m here, mother.”

“Don’t do that again! I thought…I thought he’d taken you again.”

She didn’t have to ask who he was. She knew. “Mother! Hades is my husband and he treated

me with the utmost respect.”

“No more talk of that monster.” She dragged Persephone up the hill and to the garden,

pushing her down in the grass and setting a basket of flowers beside her. “Why don’t you make one of those crowns you like so much?”

Persephone picked a few roses from the basket, ignoring the sharp prick of the thorns as she started to weave the stems together. A few bright drops fell upon her dress. It seemed only fitting that her flesh should cry the tears she couldn’t.

She wanted to return to the Underworld without the fear that the winter would return and the mortals would die. But her mother would never allow it. The winter would descend upon the Earth, thousands more would die, and even the immortals would suffer her mother’s anguish.

She couldn’t allow everyone to pay for her selfish desire.

Her mother knelt next to her, mindlessly going on about something as Persephone wove a

white rose into the red crown and thought of the husband she left behind. The twinkle in his midnight blue eyes as he laughed, the smile on his handsome face as he chased her through their garden, the callused palm of his hand as he stroked her naked flesh until she cried for release, his slick body flowing over her as he moved inside her, the unspoken love in his eyes as he looked down upon her and the warrior soul that would do anything to protect her. Every night she dreamed of his warmth, his arms wrapped around her, the gentle breathing against her neck, and the kisses that touched her to the soul. And each morning she awakened, emptier than the day before.

Part of her wanted Hades to come for her and take her home to the Underworld. And yet,

another part of her wanted him to stay away. Her obligation to the mortals meant denying her desires.

A tear slid down her cheek.

“What’s wrong, dear?”

She met her mother’s worried glance. “I miss my husband, Mother.” Her mother sat in stony silence and she decided to get the rest out. “Would it be so terrible if I returned to the Underworld? You could come to visit me. And I can come up here to visit you.”

“But you’re my little girl.”

The sun above her head beat down upon her, and yet, Persephone was cold as ice inside. She feared she would never be warm again. “I’ll always be your daughter, but I long for home, for the husband I love.”

“He kidnapped you! He forced you into marrying him! You could’ve ended up like Leuce!”

“Leuce is Hades sister, not his wife,” she said through numb lips. Her mother would never let her go without destroying mankind. There was no point in pleading with the woman.

“I just want you to be safe.” Demeter reached out and clasped her wrist. “And you’re not safe with him. Trust me to know what is best for you.”

Persephone would forever be miserable, cut off from the only man who loved her and she

could love, and all because of her mother could let her go. Persephone jerked her hand from her mother, disgusted by the woman who’d birthed her. She didn’t know she could hate Demeter as much as she did at that moment.

The words felt thick in her throat and another piece of her soul withered as she said, “Never again.”

She bolted for the nearest bush, relieving the sparse contents of her stomach.

HADES SAT on his throne, half-listening to Thanatos’ latest report. The death tolls were

dropping dramatically and in the last week had almost reached their usual numbers. That, at least, was the good news.

The bad news was that despite Persephone’s sacrifice to return life to the world, the mortals praised Demeter. As if the woman had the strength to do anything! She’d caused the deaths because she couldn’t function without Persephone! And what did Persephone get in the process?

She was blamed for the devastation. She was the Destroyer. He was more to blame than sweet Persephone!

Well, he wouldn’t allow it. His gentle wife wouldn’t live her immortal life as the destroyer or bringer of death. He would make sure she was given her due praise.

“Thanatos, would you inform the judges that it is time?”

Thanatos frowned. “Time for what?” he asked, suspicion heavy in his voice.

“Our Queen, your daughter, returned to the world to set things right, and I think it’s only fair if we help her.” He smiled and rose from his throne. “I have to visit the Fates about some souls.”

Thanatos returned the smile with a huge grin. “Aye, Aye, Captain.”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

IN DREAMS she was free. Free to live, and love, and be loved. She was free to be who she

was. She no longer had to hide. There were no more flowers, or dancing, or singing, or sunlight.

She no longer dreamed of that elusive but powerful desire that was just beyond her reach and which she couldn’t pin down or explain, because now that desire had a name, a face, and a voice.

It was the god who’d abducted her body and captured her heart. Her friend. Her lover. Her husband. Her Hades.

He invaded her dreams as he invaded her life, softly and smoothly. Every night he came to her and he was the only one who existed, the only one that mattered. They made love beneath the moonlight. Wonderful, glorious, earth shattering love that drove her to the very heights of ecstasy.

She always awoke from her dreams, aching with an unsatisfied need to be with him. It was

more than the physical release she craved. She needed the sharing of mind, of heart, of soul, and of magic. She needed her other half.

Never had she felt such loneliness, never such emptiness, such aching loss. This couldn’t go on, not forever. It would destroy her. It would destroy the last visages of love she held for her mother. It would make her as bitter and bloodthirsty as the harpies.

And then one night she woke from her all too familiar dreams, reached for him, his name on her lips, and her heart thundering in her ears. Moonlight poured through her window,

highlighting a shadowy presence in the corner of her room, making her heart race with hope.

At first, she thought it was another dream. Just a dream within a dream. But then he knelt by her bed and she reached out to touch him, to reassure herself that he wasn’t a mere figment of her imagination.

She stroked his face, tracing the scars bisecting his clean shaven face. “You came.”

“I came for you. Come home, Persephone.”

She didn’t want to answer him. She didn’t want to explain why it was an impossible request.

She wanted him to make love to her.

Pulling his head down to her, she kissed him, igniting the spark. She knew he needed her as badly as she needed him. “Love me,” she pleaded.

He drew back the covers and she drew him to her. She needed to feel him, to let his love

consume her as he returned her passion. His tongue found hers and she relished the taste of him.

His kiss devoured her. Her hands ran along his back, clenching at his tunic as he traced a line of hot kisses from her mouth to her neck. How she missed the familiar masculine smell and feel of him.

Oh that they could always be this way. Together. Alone. No mother to come between them.

No mortals depending on their being apart so that they might survive.

His hands caressed her breasts through the sleeping gown covering them, but his touch

seared through the thin cloth until it flamed her desire to new heights. She rolled him onto his back and lifted her gown so she could straddle him. As much as she hated their clothes, she lacked the patience to wait until they were off before she could feel him inside of her. She ached, the wetness moistening her thighs. She was ready for him. She’d been ready for him since the first night they’d been apart.

Her hands slid his tunic up to his waist, giving her access to his cock. She settled on top of him, moaning as he slowly filled her. He was hard and long. She was hot and wet. He groaned and whispered her name.

She bent down and kissed him, finding a sensual thrill in tasting him while she clenched

around his erection, rocking forward. His hands rested on her hips as she moved back and forth, pressing her deeper, stroking the fire that burned deep inside. She straightened and threw her head back, her long hair cascading down her back. She closed her eyes and absorbed his

mounting pleasure and offered her own to him.

His hands slid over her skin, cupping her breasts, gently pinching her nipples. She groaned, increasing the rhythm of her rocking hips, knowing neither of them would last long. This wasn’t about love. This was about need, raw desire, a desperate thirst that had to be satisfied before they could think clearly.

She was so close to the release her body cried for, and through the energy flowing fast and furious between them, she knew he was too. She ran her hands along his strong arms and leaned forward. He moved beneath her, thrusting deep into her.

She grew tighter around him, her breathing heavy and her skin damp with sweat. “Come with me.”

Their movements became animalistic in nature, each working toward a single goal. No other thought but the quest for pleasure pulsed through them as their energies merged and became one.