My Lord Hades (29 page)

“That’s why you wouldn’t see me again, yet kept returning.”

He nodded. “I didn’t want to hurt you, but you drew me as no other woman has ever done. I wanted you from the moment I first saw you. I wanted you as my mate, my equal in power. And I thought I couldn’t have you.”

He said no more, for there was nothing more to say.

“Did I really call to you into my mind? Did we really make love there?”

He winced and sat up. He gazed into her eyes and she stared back, waiting. “Yes.”

“How many lovers have you had?”

He shook his head. “I’ve never joined my body to a woman’s before I joined mine to yours.”

She blushed. He smiled up at her, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “When one can harm a woman with a passionate kiss, it dampens the enthusiasm. And without enthusiasm to feed the passion, flesh and bone does not grow.”

Heat rose in her cheeks again, and her eyes dropped to his nether region. The light of

understanding entered her eyes.

“May I ask you a question?”

Persephone nodded.

“What function did you serve in the Underworld?”

Her brows furrowed. “I thought…You said…You didn’t know…But then…” She took a

deep, calming breath. “Did you really bring me here to use against Zeus?”

“No.”

She saw the lie shift behind his eyes and her heart fell. “Why did you marry me, Hades? The truth.”

“I requested the Iron Queen as my bride to fulfill Zeus’ promised to me and secure my right to rule. I would’ve married her to keep you and the people of the Underworld safe. But I couldn’t do it.” He sat up and cupped her cheek in his hand. “I wanted you, Persephone. Not her.”

“And now you have us both. The Underworld is my home, Hades. It has been since the day

five hundred years ago when I claimed it.” She stood and looked down at him. “You have your Iron Queen and the wife promised you by Zeus. But you will have to earn your Persephone.”

She turned and walked away. He sat there shocked and then he raced after her. Her door

closed in his face and even had he wanted to cross the boundary into her private domain, he couldn’t. She had successfully enchanted the rooms against him.

THE IRON QUEEN? Persephone was the Iron Queen. She was his promised bride and he

hadn’t known it. He should have known. All the signs had been before him. She was the only one strong enough to hold the Underworld again the Titans.

He gulped down more wine, willing it to drown away the problem he faced now. He should

have imprisoned himself in Tartarus before giving in to his Phlegethon obsession to taste her.

Even bound as she was, his Phlegethon blood could taste her power and it knew her to be his equal in every way. He was bound to her before he even knew it had happened or even realized she was a Phlegethon daemon and goddess.

They were mates, destined by the Fates to complete the other. There would never be another for them. But the one thing he hadn’t counted on, despite dreaming of one day finding his mate, was loving her.

He was free to love Persephone with his entire being, more than he thought it was possible to love a woman, and she hated him. No, that wasn’t quite true. She’d learned the truth and told him he would have to fight for her love. It was amazing the mess he could get himself into.

It was time to tell her he loved her and let her see the truth in his heart. If it was her wish to stay made make their marriage one in truth, she would always retain the choice in her life. If not, he would defend her honor against all gods who thought to harm her.

As if his thoughts called her to him, he felt the subtle shift in the room’s energy and the smell of lavender honey. He sat up, searching the darkness, and found her standing in the center of his room, as regal as the queen she was. She waved her hand and a fire sprang to life in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the room and chasing away the shadows.

“There is no reason for us sleep in separate rooms.”

He swallowed hard. “What?”

She wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready. Neither of them was ready. And yet he hoped he hadn’t

heard incorrectly because already his body was reacting to her suggestion of sharing a bed.

His pulse quickened. His breath shortened. His blood heated. His cock lept.

He wanted her in his bed. He wanted her beneath him. He wanted her to want him. He

wanted to make love to her and experience the melding of bodies, power, and passions. And maybe, just maybe, the intensity of two Phlegethons uniting in love would accomplish what words couldn’t.

Crossing the room to his bed, she lifted the hem of her gown and crawled onto the bed. His eyes locked on the length of bared flesh. “I want to share your bed as your wife.”

“Persephone, I…”

She leaned forward, kissing his lips. He kissed her back, gently lowering her to the bed. Her rich auburn hair fanning around her lovely face, red highlights blazing to life in the fire. He stared down at her body, the length of her entire leg revealed by the slit in her dress. She was a breathtaking sight and his cock thickened in anticipation.

He started with the removal of the purple and silver cord around her waist. Then he unclipped the pearl clasps on her shoulders. He slowly drew back the front half of the dress and gazed down upon perfection.

Her shoulders were slender, with strong arms and hands. Her breasts were bountiful with

rouge-tipped nipples. Her waist narrowed and her hips flared, tapering down to shapely, long legs. He reached out to touch her honeyed skin, to roam over the curves and dips. She was soft, smooth and undefiled by battle.

“Would you like me to extinguish the fire?” he asked

“No.”

PERSEPHONE LEANED forward and kissed him. It wasn’t what she’d meant to do. She

had tried to stay away and lock away her emotions, but the shock of longing pulsed through her.

She wanted him again. Not just quick sex like in the Elysian Fields, but slow lovemaking.

His lips moved gently over hers, his hand wrapping around her neck, drawing her down. Her hand slid beneath the tunic, roaming over his scarred chest.

He started to pull away from her. “Don’t!” she commanded him.

Grabbing the edge of his tunic, she lifted it over his muscular legs, his lean flanks, his broad chest, and then his head. She bore his body to the light as he had hers. It only seemed fair.

She pushed him back into the pillows, and began an earnest exploration of his male form.

Her hands roamed over the lean planes of his belly, up his ribcage, combing through the wiry black hairs spread lightly over his chest. He groaned when her fingers rubbed against the small nub of his nipple.

Her fingers skimmed over the scars slashing pattern across his chest, the puckered line of tissue halfway through his side, the silvered lines crisscrossing his chest, arms and legs, and the half dozen star-shaped puckers on his thighs, biceps, side and chest. His body looked like a battle ground of a cruel life.

He flinched as she touched the curving lines of his twin scar on his cheek. The other scars were the symbols of a warrior or the penance of a prisoner. But this scar was different. She leaned over him, her breasts brushing against his arm, and kissed the scars. She continued the path downward. Kissing every puckered, smooth, faded, rough, or jagged scar marring his flesh.

They were part of him and she accepted them.

She traced the edge of a particular bad injury. If he had been mortal, it would have killed him. The smooth scar started at his left shoulder and flowed over his left pectoral muscle, bisecting the trail of hair down to his belly, past the right side of his belly button, and stopping just short of the hair where his man part pulsated and lengthened in small increments. It hardened the closer she came to it.

She smiled. “Flesh and blood grows,” she whispered, touching the tip with her finger.

Hades groaned, gripping the sheets in white knuckled hands. Fascinated by the reaction, she stroked the length of the silky flesh. It grew harder in her hand. And he lost his hold over his magic. It spilled out, washing over her like liquid fire. The raw passion swept through her, awakening her body, igniting her own magic. Shocking and arousing her to the core of her being.

Her body tightened. Her nipples hardened. The energy around them pulsed with the aching

need coursing through his body and, on a smaller level, her body too.

“Hades,” she groaned.

SHE WAS warm and yielding. And she was his. All his. And he was hers. He rose on the bed, laying her down beneath him. He kissed her, recalling the way she’d responded to him in the garden, and after he foiled her escape from Underworld, and when she seduced him in her mind.

This time was different. She responded, but it wasn’t the passionate kiss he wanted. It was somewhat distant, curious. As if she was struggling to remain in control.

He deepened the kiss, parting his lips and let his tongue trace her lower lip, urging her to open to him. She hesitated a moment. His tongue slid inside, delighting in the taste of her. She was better than ambrosia. Much sweeter. Intoxicating.

He cupped her breast in his palm, rubbing his finger across the hardened nipple. She arched into his hand. He searched the energy flowing between them. Very little desire emanated from her, most of what was happening to her was her body’s natural instinct. Her conscious mind was curious but distance. She was still holding on too damn tight.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked her.

“Yes. It’s what I want.”

Her hand closed around his cock and he swallowed hard, striving to focus as wave after wave of pleasure washed over him. He knelt between her spread legs, his body trembled with desire, his patience at an end. He slid back the foreskin and pressed the head of his arousal into the tight, slick passage. She shifted her hips and he groaned, gritting his teeth. She was driving him mad.

He wanted to take it slow, be careful with her but it was hard when she pushed her hips up and he slid in further.

She wove her fingers into his hair and pulled his face down to hers, kissing him with a

passion he didn’t know she possessed. She wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him

deeper.

“Persephone,” he groaned.

She wiggled beneath him and he sheathed the length of his cock to the hilt. She gasped

throwing back her head, her tightly held control slipping. Her legs tightened around him, holding him deep within her.

“You have to let go of everything—”

“No!”

“Oh, sweetling. Please.”

She looked up at him, her eyes clear. She shook her head. “I can’t.”

But he knew she could. He pulled back and thrust forward, sending the waves of pleasure he felt into her, opening his mind to her, seeking more than the joining of bodies, he needed the completion of emotions and mind and magic joined as only Phlegethon’s could. But she

wouldn’t join him, not completely. Her body responded to his touch, seeking more, but she reined in her magic and her emotions.

He felt her wonder at the power of his desire for her. He felt the flow of her noting everything he was doing, but it was with strict logic. Very basic.

Despite her mind’s need for control over the situation, he could also feel her body’s desire to complete what they started as the juices flowed into her passage. Closing his eyes, he poured unadulterated power and pure desire into her. Her body’s instincts shoved aside her mind and took complete control. Her power rose to meet him, washing over him, twinning about him. Her breasts rubbed against his chest and her wet sheath squeezed around him, drawing him deeper inside. He lost control, his hips slamming into her as he gave himself over to the onslaught of sensation flooding through their bodies.

Her tight pussy constricted around him as her pleasure reached its zenith and crashed over him in wave after wave, consuming her and opening the door protecting her heart and emotions.

“Hades!”

The sound of his name from her mouth combined with the true depth of her emotions sent

him over the edge and the world exploded around him in a shower of diamonds. He screamed her name, his body shuddered and hips pumped into her as his seed shot forward to fill her womb and his love washed over her. A mortal or lesser goddess wouldn’t have been able to accept this part of making love to him any more than they would have survived lovemaking with her.

She took it all in and returned it to him, and they were more complete for it. It didn’t weaken him as he’d once feared. It strengthened him and for a brief instant, he felt whole. She was his mate it every way, as he was hers, equals.

And then, just as suddenly as the door opened, it closed and her fear was sharp in his mind.

He leaned down, supporting the bulk of his weight on his arms, and kissed her, hoping to

reclaim the flutter of awe and love he’d felt from her, but it was gone and her emotions were once more trapped inside the walls protecting her heart. She felt empty inside and his heart cried out at the injustice of a world where she would close herself off from the joys and sorrows of life. Why wouldn’t she allow herself to be a true Phlegethon? Why would she only allow herself the joys sex?

If he had been a normal god, this lack of emotion wouldn’t bother him, he’d never know

differently. But he was Phlegethon and his partner’s emotions meant everything.

“You truly care for me,” she whispered, a hint of awe coloring her voice.

It would be foolish to deny it. He’d already given her everything, laying bare every thought, emotion, and moment of his life. There was nothing she didn’t know about him if she looked into his soul, yet he feared her rejection.

“Yes,” he rasped.

She took his face in his hands and pushed him back enough to look into his face. She must have seen something there, something that cracked the heavy armor surrounding her heart. She wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly to her. He kissed her, lingering at her mouth.

He enjoyed the softening of her lips, the tickle of her breath against his mouth, the thrust of her pelvis against his groin. Her body was already responding to his gentle caresses and his body was answering her, only not with the pervious urgency that spurred him earlier. He took his time with her, slipping his finger inside the soft, wet foldes of her woman’s mound. He wrung out every last moment of pleasure she was capable of giving him. Only then did he join his body to hers, giving their bodies the release they both craved.