“Is this their punishment?”
“No,” Hades said. “Think of this as their holding cell.”
Persephone let Hades’ words settle between them. That meant there was no reprieve when the judges assigned a soul’s fate to Tartarus. Their punishment began immediately—and these burns, the venom eating through their skin straight to bone—was only the beginning.
“And how will you punish them?” she asked, tilting her head to meet his gaze. Hades stared down at her.
“Perhaps…you would like to decide?”
Again, she found herself smirking despite the horror of their conversation. Hades was asking her to determine the eternal punishment of a soul—and she liked it. It made her feel powerful, trusted. For the briefest moment, she wondered what that made her—but she already knew. It made her his queen.
Her gaze returned to the souls in the poisonous lake.
“I wish for them exist in a constant state of fear and panic. To experience what they inflicted upon others. They will exist, for eternity, in the Forest of Despair.”
“So you shall have it,” Hades said, and lifted his hand for her to take. As her fingers settled into his, the souls beneath the hydra vanished.
“Let me show you something.”
He took her to the library, to the basin she’d stumbled upon early in her visits to the palace. When she’d first found it, she’d assumed it was a table—but at her approach, she discovered a partial map of the Underworld reflected in the dark surface Then, she’d only been able to see the palace, Asphodel and the Rivers Styx and Lethe. When she’d asked Hades why it was not complete, he’d told her the rest would be revealed when she’d earned the right.
At that point, only Hecate and Hermes were able to view the whole of the Underworld.
Now when she looked, she saw every river and meadow and mountain. She knew the chances of the map remaining the same were small as Hades often manipulated his world—adding, moving, or erasing locations.
“Show the Forest Despair,” Hades said, and the water rippled until a harsh scene played out before her eyes. When Persephone had wandered between those trees, she’d been alone, the forest quiet around her, but now she saw it for what it was—full of thousands of souls all living some form of their personal hell. There were souls who sat at the bases of trees, knees pulled to their chest, shaking. Others hunted one another, lashing out and murdering—only to be revived and hunted again.
“Those who hunt,” she said. “What is their fear?”
“Loss of control,” Hades said.
“And the ones being killed?” she asked quietly.
“They were murderers in life,” he responded.
There were others, too—souls who drank from streams and died slow and painful deaths, souls who were caught in a part of the forest that remained perpetually on fire, souls who were tied and stretched between trees as they were poked and prodded until exposure lead to their eventual death.
As each cycle ended, it began again—and endless loop of torture and death.
After a moment, Persephone turned away from the basin. “I have seen enough.”
Hades joined her, taking her hand in his and kissing her knuckles.
“Are you well?”
“I am…satisfied,” she answered and met his gaze. “Let’s go to bed.”
Hades did not argue, and as they returned to their chamber, she realized that vengeance had a taste—it was bitter and metallic with an underlying sweetness.
And she craved it.
“Persephone,” Hades said her name, a tinge of concern in his voice. She knew he wondered if he’d gone too far in showing her the Forest of Despair.
She shed her robes, feeling tense. She rolled her shoulders before turning to face him.
“Hades,” she replied. She needed him inside her, needed the distraction and release he would provide.
“You’ve been through a lot,” he said, though his eyes burned with a desire so potent, her legs already shook. “Are you sure you want this tonight?”
“It’s all I want,” she said.
He took another step, closing the space between them and their mouths collided, tongues sweeping together. She shivered beneath his hands, arching into him, her hips desperate to move against his. She helped him out of his robes as she kissed down his chest, making her way to his swollen sex. As her lips touched his head, he gave a sigh—it was heavy and almost raw, scraping against his throat.
She peered up at him, curious to see his expression—full of dark passion. It only encouraged the fire in the pit of her stomach. The space between her thighs dampened, her body preparing to accommodate him.
“Is this okay?” She wasn’t sure why she asked. Maybe she just wanted to hear him say yes with that all-consuming fire in his eyes.
“More than,” he replied, and she returned to him, tongue tasting from tip to base, teasing each ridge and lapping at velvet skin. He inhaled between his teeth when he hit the back of her throat, fingers twining into her hair. She looked up at him. His gaze was tender, loving, and yet it scorched her soul, heating every part of her until she was molten.
“You don’t know the things I wish to do to you,” he said.
She held his gaze, giving the crown of his cock a final hard suck and then released him. She straightened, her head tipping toward his, their mouths level as she whispered, “Show me.”
It was a dare—and Hades accepted the challenge. His hand tightening on the back of her neck, he brought her mouth to his, tongue invading and twining with her own and then, as if she weighed nothing, he drew her to the center of the bed. Again, his mouth covered hers sucking and caressing. She bowed against him, her fingers digging into his muscled arms until he pinned them over her head—and then she felt something twinning around them—something soft but restraining—she gazed upward and found her wrists were bound with shadow-magic.
A thread of unease shivered through her.
“Is this okay?” he asked, sitting back, his strong thighs straddling her, his cock heavy and erect. She swallowed, that strange thread of disquiet pulling at the back of her mind. Was it okay? She couldn’t decide.
This is Hades, she reminded herself. You are safe.
She nodded, the unease dissipating the longer he raked her with that heated gaze.
Hades smirked, and her heart beat harder in her chest, anticipation curling tight inside her.
“I will make you writhe,” he promised, crawling up her body with predatory grace. “I will make you scream; I will make you come so hard you will feel it for days.”
His mouth closed over hers, moving so that his legs were between hers and he kissed down her body, his skin slithering deliciously against her clit as he made his way to her center—and yet her chest tightened in a way that wasn’t familiar.
She tried to release the feeling that had knotted right beside her heart, but she couldn’t breathe deep enough. She lifted her head, watching Hades descend, pausing to press kisses to the inside of her thighs, licking the sensitive flesh.
Safe, she thought over and over—the feeling in her chest in conflict with the fire in the bottom of her stomach. Safe. Safe. Safe.
Then he spread her wide, flattening her legs against the bed and suddenly, she couldn’t breathe at all. It was like she had found herself in the Styx all over again, being drawn from the surface of the black water to the dark depths in the grip of the dead who lived there. The more she struggled, the harder she was held, the darker everything became. The bindings on her wrist were rough—rope, she realized. The hands upon her thighs were clammy.