“Hades,” she whispered his name, and then his lips touched her skin as he kissed a fiery path back up her body. Her hands tangled into his hair as he paused to tease each of her nipples, before his mouth devoured hers.
When her fingers tangled into his jacket, she pulled away.
“Shall I undress you?” She asked, eager to have his skin against hers.
“If you wish,” he said.
She reached for the buttons on his shirt, but a sharp pain in her shoulder made her wince and she dropped her arm. Hades frowned.
“Let me,” he said, making quick work of the buttons. Shedding his jacket, shirt, and slacks. When he was naked, he gripped her sides, and drew her to him, his arms wrapping tightly around her. His mouth slanted against hers and she opened for him. The feel of him inside her in anyway was like injecting magic into her veins—it made her feel wild and passionate. Except that soon, she felt real magic—healing magic—as Hades’ palm came to rest upon her.
She broke the kiss and looked down at her shoulder. Where she had left a scar, there was now smooth skin.
“Was I not good enough?” she asked.
It wasn’t exactly the question she intended to ask, and she knew once the words were out of her mouth, that they hurt Hades, but it was all she could think to say because this kind of magic was important to her and she wanted to master it.
“Of course, you are good enough, Persephone,” Hades said, and he brought his hands to her jaw, sliding his fingers into her hair. “I am over-protective and fearful for you and perhaps selfishly, I wish to remove anything that reminds me of my failure to protect you.”
“Hades, you did not fail,” she said.
“We will agree to disagree,” he said.
“If I am enough then you are enough.”
He did not speak, and she moved her hands up his chest, twining her arms around his neck.
“I am sorry. I never wanted to see you suffer again, not like you did in the days following Tyche’s death.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said and kissed her.
This time, he guided her into the shower. They stood outside of the spray as he reached for the soap and wet a cloth. He started with her shoulder, gently washing the blood away. He moved to her breasts, groping and squeezing, his slick hands teasing each one before moving onto her stomach and sides, her thighs and her calves. On his knees before her, he gave an order.
“Turn.”
She obeyed the command, placing her hands flat on the wall as he made his way back up her body. He spent time washing between her thighs, fingers teasing her flesh. By the time he rose to his feet, she was flustered, and though his erection swelled between them, he did not move to take her. Instead, he stared at her intently and said, “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she said, and there was something in this moment—in the exchange of words that brought tears to her eyes. “More than anything.”
They weren’t powerful enough words, but she couldn’t find the ones she needed, the ones she wanted. The ones that conveyed just how much her blood and bone, heart and soul ached for him.
“Persephone,” Hades whispered her name, brushing a stray tear from her face. He gathered her into his arms and carried her out of the shower. They were not even dry as he settled beside the fire. Cradled against his chest, they sat in silence as the events of the evening rushed back into their reality.
Talaria Stadium had been the perfect space for an attack. The distraction of the chariot races, the added drama between Apollo, Ajax, and Hector. No one suspected a thing.
“All those people,” she whispered. “Gone.”
She wondered how many had died, then the guilt settled upon her as she realized she should have been at the gates to greet them, to calm them.
Hades’ arms tightened around her. “You will not be able to console everyone who makes their way to the gates unexpectedly, Persephone. Those deaths are far too numerous. Take comfort, the souls of Asphodel are there, and they will represent you well.”
“They represent you, too, Hades,” she said.
Then she considered something—the innocent weren’t the only ones to die tonight. Among them, were those who had started the violence.
“What about the attackers who died tonight?”
She met Hades’ gaze. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but he answered her question without hesitating.
“They await punishment in Tartarus,” he paused, then asked, “Do you wish to go?”
A smile tugged at her lips. It wasn’t in anticipation, but in response to his question. Weeks ago, he would have never suggested a trip to the chamber of torture he used to punish souls, and yet now, he did so without faltering.
“Yes,” she answered. “I wish to go.”
***
They arrived in a part of Tartarus Persephone had never visited before. It was a cavernous hall, each side of it flanked with massive obsidian columns. It took her a moment to realize that each set of columns was blocked by a gate. They were in a dungeon. The air here was thick, heavy with an ancient power. She tipped her head back, searching for the source of the magic.
“There are monsters here,” said Hades, as if to explain.
“What…kind of monsters?” she asked.
“Many,” he said, looking slightly amused. “Some are here because they were slain, some are here because they were captured. Come.”
He took her hand and lead her past many darkened cells. As they went, she heard hissing and growls and a horrible wailing. Persephone looked to Hades for an explanation.
“The harpies,” Hades said. “Aello, Ocypete, and Celaeno—they get restless, especially when the world is chaos.”
“Why?”
“Because they sense evil and wish to punish,” he said.
They passed many more, including a creature who was half woman, half snake. Graceful fingers wrapped tight around the bars of her cell as her head came into view. She was beautiful, her hair was long and fell over her shoulders in red waves, curtaining her bare breasts.
“Hades,” she hissed, her slitted eyes gleaming.
“Lamia,” he said in acknowledgement.
“Lamia?” Persephone asked. “The child-killer?”
The monster hissed at her words, but Hades answered. “The very one.”
Lamia was the daughter of Poseidon and a queen. Her affair with Zeus lead to Hera cursing her to lose any child she birthed, eventually, she went mad, stealing babies from their mothers only to feast upon their flesh. Her story was horrifying, especially given that Lamia had gone from desiring a child above all else to consuming them.
They continued further until they came to the end of the passage where a gate kept a massive dragon-like creature imprisoned. It had seven snake-like heads, scales, and webbed fins along its neck. They hissed, barring fangs that dripped a black liquid into a pool that came up to their large, bulbous belly. In that water were several souls, whose faces were burned beyond recognition.
“What is this?” she asked.
“That is a hydra,” Hades said. “Its blood, venom, and breath are poisonous.”
Persephone stared.
“And the mortals in the pool? What did they do?”
“They are the terrorists who attacked the stadium,” he said.