“I hear our dear Persephone has had quite a harrowing evening,” she said.
Hades nodded, reflecting on the day. They had gone from one extreme to another—an intense high to a devastating low. He wavered between each of those memories—Persephone’s genuine happiness to her shocking pain. There was a part of him that hated himself for this, that blamed himself for Lexa’s ultimate end. If he had been more forthright about his world, maybe none of this would have happened.
Hecate slammed a hand against the table, snapping Hades out of his thoughts.
He met her gaze, mildly annoyed.
“Stop that,” she said, setting a steaming cup of tea beside his arm. It smelled like chamomile, lavender, and mint.
He raised a brow at the goddess. “I thought we—”
“I don’t need to read minds to know when you are brooding because you scowl,” she said. “What’s done is done. There are no decisions that can take us back in time, only ones that move us forward. Right now, Persephone needs an attentive…boyfriend.”
Hecate seemed to shudder at that word, and despite everything, he smirked. “Fiancé,” he said.
Hecate blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Fiancé,” he said once more and added, “Persephone agreed to marry me.”
A slow smile broke out across Hecate’s face.
“Are you saying,” she said carefully, “that I get to plan a wedding?”
“I think you’ll have to talk to Persephone, but I doubt she would tell you no.”
“Engaged,” she said, as if she did not believe it, and sank into her chair across from him.
“Yes,” Hades said, amused by her response.
“Married,” she said.
“Eventually,” Hades said, though he hoped sooner rather than later.
Then she shook her head. “I never thought this day would come.”
“Oh, ye of little faith,” Hades said, though he had not been so certain either.
“You’re not exactly charming or good at communication,” Hecate said. “And you’re an alcoholic.”
“Is there anything I am good at, Hecate?” Hades asked, and the goddess smiled.
“Learning.”
* * *
Hades spent another hour at Hecate’s cottage before returning to the palace, where he met Thanatos in his office. The God of Death offered an update on Lexa’s trip to Elysium, which had been, gratefully, uneventful. There were times when souls who drank from the Lethe became hostile and lashed out at the god, but Lexa had been pleasant, quiet, almost shy.
“I fear it will be some time before Persephone can visit with Lexa,” Thanatos said.
“I will tell her,” Hades said and added, “Thank you, Thanatos, for taking care of her.”
Hades noticed a faint blush color the god’s cheeks, and he opened his mouth to respond but settled on a simple nod before leaving.
It was then, while alone, that the day crashed down on him, and he was filled with a restless energy he couldn’t shake. His thoughts stormed through his mind, as relentless as the flames in the fireplace he stood before.
This time, rather than dwelling on how he might have prevented Lexa’s end, he felt fear—fear that Persephone would blame him, that once she had time to think about how this had unfolded, she would see that he had failed her.
The guilt made his eyes sting, and when the door opened, he stiffened. There was a part of him that was preparing for her rage and a part of him that feared seeing the weight of her sadness, feared that when he looked upon her, he would break too.
He felt her draw near, though hesitant, and he was surprised when she asked, “Are you well?”
He swallowed hard around the thickness in his throat. He should be asking her. “Yes, and you?”
“Yes… Hades,” she said, and he knew she was waiting for him to look at her. He took a few deep breaths, until the wetness behind his eyes did not feel so threatening. When he met her gaze, he did not see what he expected—no resentment or anger or hatred. He just saw…her, beautiful and raw and open.
“Thank you for today,” she whispered.
Her gratitude made him uncomfortable. He had only tried to make up for what he had done so wrong before.
“It was nothing,” he said and turned back to the fire, but Persephone reached for him. He held her gaze, and as much as he wanted to give her distance in this moment, he realized she was asking for the opposite.
“It was everything,” she said, her eyes heated, her lips parted.
He angled toward her and took her mouth against his, and they knelt before the fireplace. The heat from the flames made their skin hot and slick. Hades took his time with her once more, much as he had done in the mountains, and when he found himself sliding into her, she spoke.
“You were right,” she said, her body shifting beneath his, legs widening, back arching.
“I did not want to be right,” he said as he began to move.
“I should have listened.”
“Shh,” he soothed, bending to kiss her mouth. “No more talk of what you should have done. What is, is. There is nothing else to be done but move forward.”
He recognized he needed to take Hecate’s advice just as much as she did, but the words worked to calm her, and soon they were moving together, hard and fast and measured, and when Persephone started to moan his name, his lust for her knew no bounds. He gripped her hips and slammed into her, liking the bite of her nails as they scored his skin, and he came so hard inside her, he collapsed when he was done.
They rested like that for a long while, shifting only to be closer to the fire, as they’d moved a considerable distance during sex.
“I’m going to quit New Athens News,” Persephone said.
“Oh?”
It was the first time he had heard of this plan, but he could not say he disapproved. He hated Kal Stavros, and while he did not think the mortal would bother her anymore, he’d rather she not work for him.
“I want to start an online community and blog. I’m going to call it The Advocate—it will be a place for the voiceless.”
He smiled a little, knowing that this was what she was passionate about—offering a space for those who felt like they were not heard, much as she had felt throughout her life.
“It sounds like you have thought about this a lot,” Hades said.
“I have.”
He placed a hand beneath her chin and drew her gaze to his. “What do you need from me?”