A Touch of Darkness: Chapter 16

You are the worst wager he’s ever made.

Minthe’s words rolled around in Persephone’s head. Now and then they hit a chord so sensitive she felt a fresh flush of rage as she made her way to Nevernight.

Despite realizing that her garden might not succeed in fulfilling the contract between her and Hades, she felt like it would be giving up to ignore it completely; so she returned, watered her garden, and then sought out her new friends in Asphodel.

Persephone made a point to stop by Asphodel every time she visited the Underworld now. There, in the green valley, she found the dead lived—they planted gardens and harvested fruit. They made jams, butter, and bread. They sewed and knitted and weaved, making clothing and scarves and rugs. It was the reason they had an extensive market that twisted throughout the alleyways between the strange, volcanic-glass homes.

More than usual, the dead were out in droves and the market was bustling with an energy she had yet to experience in the Underworld: excitement. A few of the souls strung lanterns between their homes, decorating the alleyway they shared. Persephone watched them for several moments until she heard a familiar voice.

“Good evening, my lady!” Persephone turned to find Yuri, a pretty young woman with thick curls, approaching her on the road. She wore pink robes and carried a large basket of pomegranates.

“Yuri,” Persephone smiled and hugged the girl. The two had gotten to know each other one day when Yuri offered her one of her signature tea blends. Persephone had loved it so much she tried to purchase a tin, but Yuri refused her money and offered it for free.

“What would I do with money in the Underworld?” she’d asked?

The next time Persephone visited, she brought Yuri a jeweled clip so she could pin back her thick hair. The girl had been so grateful, she threw her arms around Persephone and then quickly backed away, apologizing for being so forward. Persephone had only laughed and said, “I like hugs.”

The two had been friends ever since.

“Is…something happening today?” Persephone asked.

Yuri smiled. “We are celebrating Lord Hades.”

“Why?” She didn’t mean to sound so surprised, but she wasn’t feeling generous toward the God of the Dead these days. “Is it his birthday?”

Yuri laughed at that question, and Persephone realized how dumb it was to ask—Hades likely didn’t celebrate a birthday or even remember when he was born. “Because he is our king and we wish to honor him.” There were several festivals celebrating gods above ground, but none of them celebrated the God of the Underworld. “We’ve been hopeful that he will soon have a queen.”

Persephone paled. Her first thought was, who? And then, why? What had given them the impression that they might have a queen? “A….what?”

Yuri smiled. “Come now, Persephone. You aren’t so blind.”

“I think I am.”

“Lord Hades has never given a god so much freedom over his realm.”

Oh, Yuri was referring to her.

“What about Hecate? Hermes?” she argued. They each had access to the Underworld and came and went as they pleased.

“Hecate is a creature of this world and Hermes is merely a messenger. You…you’re something more.”

Persephone shook her head. “I’m no more than a game, Yuri.”

She could tell by the tilt of her head that the soul was confused by her statement, but Persephone wasn’t going to argue. The souls of the Underworld might see Hades’ treatment as special, but she knew it for what it was.

Yuri reached into her basket and offered Persephone a pomegranate. “Even so, will you not stay? This celebration, it’s just as much for you as it is for Hades.”

The shock of Yuri’s words went deep. “But I’m not…you can’t worship me.”

“Why not? You are a goddess, you care for us, and you care for our King.”

“I—” she wanted to argue that she didn’t care for Lord Hades, but the words wouldn’t come.

Before she could think of a good response, her attention was drawn away by a chorus of voices.

“Lady Persephone! Lady Persephone!”

Something small but powerful rammed into her legs, and she almost fell into Yuri and her basket.

“Isaac! Apologize to your—” Yuri paused, and she got the sense the souls in Asphodel had already started calling her by a title she didn’t own. “Apologize to Lady Persephone.”

The child in question withdrew his embrace from Persephone’s legs. He’d been followed by an army of children ranging in age, all of whom Persephone had met before and played several games with. Joining them were Hades’ dogs, Cerberus, Typhon, and Orthrus. Cerberus clasped their large, red ball in his jowls.

“Sorry, Lady Persephone. Will you play with us?” Isaac begged.

“Lady Persephone is not dressed to play, Isaac,” Yuri said, and the boy frowned. It was true that Persephone hadn’t been prepared to play in the meadow. She still wore her work attire—a form-fitting white dress.

“It’s perfectly alright, Yuri,” she said, and reached to lift Isaac into her arms. He was the youngest of the group, she guessed only about four. It pained her to think of why this child was here in Asphodel. What had befallen him in the Upperworld? How long had he been here? Were any of these souls his family?

She shut down those thoughts as quickly as they came. She could spend hours thinking about all the reasons any of these people were here, and it did no good. The dead were the dead, and she was learning their existence here really wasn’t so bad.

“Of course I’ll play,” she said.

A chorus of cheers erupted as she walked with the children to a clear part of the meadow, out of the way of the souls preparing for Hades’ celebration.

Persephone played catch with the dogs, along with tag and a million other games the children made up. Persephone spent more time sliding in the wet grass to avoid being tagged than she did on her feet. By the time she walked away from the field, she was covered in mud but happily exhausted.

It had grown dark in the Underworld, and musicians stepped into thoroughfare, playing sweet notes. Souls filled the streets to chat and laugh, and the smell of meat cooking and sweets baking thickened the air. It wasn’t long before Persephone found Hecate in the crowd, and the goddess smiled at her appearance.

“My dear, you are a mess.” The Goddess of Spring smiled. “It was an intense game of tag.”

“I hope you won.”

“I was a complete failure,” she said. “The children are far more adept.”

The two laughed, and another soul approached them—Ian, a blacksmith who always kept his forge hot, working metal into beautiful blades and shields. She’d asked him once why he seemed to be preparing for battle, and the man replied, “Habit.”

Persephone didn’t think too long on that just as she tried not to think too long on Isaac.

“My lady,” Ian said. “Asphodel has a gift for you.”

Persephone waited, curious, as the soul dropped to his knee and drew a beautiful gold crown from behind his back. This wasn’t just any crown; it was a series of carefully crafted flowers made into a circlet. Among the bouquet, she spied roses and lilies and narcissus. Tiny gems of various colors sparkled at the center of each flower.

“Will you wear our crown, Lady Persephone?”

The soul wasn’t looking at her, and she wondered if he feared her rejection. She glanced up, eyes going wide as she realized that the whole place had gone quiet. The souls waited, expectant.

She remembered Yuri’s comments earlier. These people had come to think of her as a queen and accepting this crown would only encourage that; but not accepting would hurt them.

Against her better judgment, she placed a hand on Ian’s shoulder and knelt to him. She looked into his eyes and answered, “I will gladly wear your crown, Ian.”

She allowed the soul to place the crown on her head, and everyone broke into cheers. Grinning, Ian offered his hand, leading her into a dance at the center of the dirt walkway, beneath the lights strung overhead. Persephone felt ridiculous in her stained dress and gold crown, but the dead didn’t seem to notice or care. She danced until she could scarcely breathe, and her feet hurt. When she moved toward Hecate for respite, the Goddess of Witchcraft said, “I think you could use some rest. And a bath.”

Persephone laughed. “I think you’re right.”

“They will celebrate all night long,” she added. “But you have made their night. Hades has never visited to celebrate with them.”

Persephone’s heart fell. “Why not?”

Hecate shrugged. “I cannot speak for him, but it is a question you may ask.”

The two returned to the palace. On their way to the baths, Persephone explained that she had received two tickets to the Olympian Gala and asked if Hecate had any spells that might help her go unseen by her mother. The goddess considered her question, then asked, “Do you have a mask?”

Persephone frowned. “I planned to pick one up tomorrow.”

“Leave it to me.”

The baths were located at the back of the fortress and accessed through an archway. When Persephone stepped inside, she was greeted by the smell of fresh linen and lavender, and a warm mist coated her skin and sank into her bones. She flushed with the heat of the air, and it was welcomed after her evening spent in the muddy meadow.

Hecate led her down a network of steps, past several smaller pools and showers.

“This is a public bath?” she asked. In antiquity, public bath houses were very common, but they’d fallen out of popularity in modern times. She wondered how many in the palace used this house—among them, Minthe and Hades.

Hecate laughed. “Yes, though Lord Hades has his own private pool. That is where you will bathe.”

She didn’t protest. She wasn’t keen on bathing in public. Hecate paused to gather supplies for Persephone—soap and towels and a lavender peplos. Persephone hadn’t worn the ancient garment in nearly four years—since she left Olympia and the greenhouse for New Athens. Wearing one now felt strange after four years in mortal clothes.

They descended a final set of steps and came to Hades’ pool. It was a large oval surrounded by columns. Overhead, the ceiling was exposed to the sky.

“Call for me if you need anything,” Hecate said, and left Persephone to undress in private. “When you are finished, join us in the dining room.”

Naked, Persephone took a tentative step toward the water, dipping her foot in to test the temperature—it was hot, but not scalding. She entered the pool and groaned with pleasure. Steam rose around her and drew perspiration from her skin—the water was cleansing, and she felt like it washed away the day. Thankfully, the celebration in Asphodel had relieved a lot of the stress from Minthe’s earlier visit and now that she was back in his realm, and thinking of where he and Minthe might bathe, all those thoughts came rushing back to the surface.

How was she the one threatening Hades’ reputation? The God of the Dead did enough damage on his own. Despite the fact that Persephone wanted a way out of her contract, she wasn’t sure she trusted Minthe enough to listen.

Persephone scrubbed her skin and scalp until it was raw and pink. She wasn’t sure how long she soaked in the water after that because she’d gotten lost in the details of the bath, noticing a line of white tiles with red narcissus peering over the edge of the water around the pool. The columns she had thought were white were actually brushed with gold. The sky overhead deepened, and tiny stars glimmered.

She was amazed by Hades magic—how he blended scents and textures. He was a master with his brush, smoothing and stippling, creating a realm that rivaled the beauty of the most sought-after destinations in the Upperworld.

She was so lost in thought, she almost didn’t hear the sound of boots treading on the steps into the bath until Hades appeared at the edge of the pool, and their eyes met. She was glad the water had already flushed her skin and he couldn’t see how hot she’d grown at his presence.

He didn’t say anything for a long moment, just stared at her in his bath. Then his eyes fell to the clothes she’d stripped off at his feet. Among them, the gold crown.

Hades bent and picked it up. “This is beautiful.”

She cleared her throat. “It is. Ian made it for me.” She didn’t bother asking him if he knew Ian. Hades has told her before that he knew all the souls in the Underworld.

“He is a talented craftsman. It is what led to his death.”

Persephone frowned. “What do you mean?”

“He was favored by Artemis, and she blessed him with the ability to create weapons that ensured their wearer could not be defeated in battle. He was killed for it.”

Persephone swallowed—it was just another way a god’s Favor could result in pain and suffering.

Hades spent a moment longer inspecting the crown before setting it down again. When he rose to his feet, Persephone was still staring at him and hadn’t moved an inch. “Why didn’t you go? To the celebration in Asphodel. It was for you.”

“And you,” he said.

It took her a moment to figure out what he meant.

“They celebrated you,” he said. “As they should.”

“I am not their queen.”

“And I am not worthy of their celebration.”

She stared. How could this confident and powerful god feel unworthy of his peoples’ celebration? “If they feel you’re worthy of celebration, don’t you think that’s enough?”

He did not respond. Instead, his eyes grew darker and a strange feeling pervaded the air—heavy, heated, and spiced. It made her chest feel tight, restricting her breath.

“May I join you?” his voice was deep and sultry.

Persephone’s brain short-circuited.

He meant in the pool. Naked. Where only water would provide cover.

She found herself nodding, and she wondered briefly if she had gone insane having been in the water too long, but there was a part of her that burned so hot for this god she would do anything to sate the flame, even if it meant testing it.

He didn’t smile and he didn’t take his eyes from her as he stripped off his clothes. Her eyes made a slow descent from his face to his arms and chest, his torso, and held at his arousal. She wasn’t the only one who felt this electric attraction, and she feared when they entered the water together, they might incinerate.

He stepped into the pool, saying nothing. He stopped a few inches from her. “I believe I owe you an apology.”

“For what, specifically?” she asked. There were several things he might be apologizing for in her mind—Minthe’s unannounced visit (if he knew about it), the way he’d treated her the morning after La Rose, the contract.

Hades smirked, but the humor didn’t touch his gaze—no, his gaze burned.

The King of the Underworld reached out and touched her face, drawing a finger across her cheek. “Last time we saw each other, I was unfair to you.”

He had stripped her bare and teased her in the most vicious way, and when he had left her, she felt embarrassed and angry and abandoned. She didn’t want him to see any of that in her eyes, so she looked away. “We were unfair to each other.”

When she managed to look at him again, he was studying her. “You like your life in the mortal realm?”

“Yes.” At his question, she put distance between them, swimming backwards, but Hades followed, slow and calculated. “I like my life. I have an apartment and friends and an internship. I’m going to graduate from university soon.” And she would get to stay if she kept Hades and the contract a secret.

“But you are Divine.”

“I have never lived that way and you know it.”

Again, he studied her, quiet for a moment. Then, “You have no desire to understand what it is to be a goddess?”

“No,” she lied. The claws of that long-ago dream still had a hold of her, and the more she visited the Underworld, the more her heart ached for it. She’d spent her childhood feeling inadequate, surrounded by her mother’s magic. When she’d come to New Athens, she’d finally found something she was good at—school and writing and research—but once again she found herself in the same situation as before; different god, different realm.

“I think you’re lying,” he said.

“You don’t know me.” She stopped moving and glared at him, angry that he saw right through her.

Hades was now toe-to-toe with her, looking down, eyes like coals. “I know you.” He trailed his fingers over her collarbone and moved so that he was behind her. “I know the way your breath hitches when I touch you. I know how your skin flushes when you’re thinking about me. I know there is something beneath this pretty facade.”

Hades’ fingers continued their feather-light caress over Persephone’s skin. His words weren’t far behind, whispering along the path of heat he left. He kissed her shoulder.

“There is rage. There is passion. There is darkness.”

He paused a moment and let his tongue swirl against her neck. Her breath caught in her throat so hard, she thought she might choke.

“And I want to taste it.”

His arm came around her waist and her back met his chest. The arch of her body fit against him perfectly. His arousal pressed into her, and she wondered what it would feel like to have that flesh inside her.

“Hades,” she breathed.

“Let me show you what it is to hold power in your hands,” he said. “Let me coax the darkness from you—I will help you shape it.”

Hades head rested in the crook of her neck as his hand brushed along her stomach and lower. When he cupped her sex, she gasped, arching against him.

“Hades, I’ve never—”

“Let me be your first,” he said—begged—and his voice rumbled in her chest.

She couldn’t speak, but she took a few breaths and then nodded.

He answered by brushing his fingers through her curls, then grazing his thumb against that sensitive bud at the apex of her core. She inhaled sharply and then held her breath as he toyed with her there, stroking and circling.

“Breathe,” he said.

And she did—as much as she could, anyway, until his fingers sank into her flesh. Persephone threw her head back, crying out as Hades groaned, his teeth grazing her shoulder.

“You’re so wet.” His mouth was warm against her skin.

He moved slowly in and out, and Persephone held onto his arm, nails digging into his skin. Then she felt Hades other hand guide hers down.

“Touch yourself. Here,” he said. He helped her circle the sensitive flesh he’d toyed with for so long before entering her. Pleasure curled through her stomach. She rocked against him, arching her back. Hades kissed her skin ruthlessly and cupped her breast, kneading her nipples until they were hard and taut. She thought she would explode.

Hades moved faster and Persephone rubbed harder and then suddenly, he withdrew. The absence of him was so shocking, she cried out.

She twisted toward him in anger, and he grabbed her wrists, pulling her toward him, his mouth descending on hers. His kiss was consuming. Their tongues collided, desperate and searching. She thought he might be trying to taste her soul.

He pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she breathed—and she felt the truth of her words deep in her soul. It was a knowledge so primal and so pure she thought she might weep. In this, she trusted him—in this she would always trust him.

He kissed her again and lifted her onto the edge of the bath.

“Tell me you have never been naked with a man,” he said. “Tell me I am the only one.”

She cupped his face, searching his eyes, and answered, “You are.”

He kissed her before moving his arms under her knees, shifting her so that she barely rested on the edge of the pool. She couldn’t breathe as he kissed along the inside of her thigh, pausing when he reached the bruises on her flesh. She hadn’t noticed them, but looking at them now, she knew exactly where they had come from: the night in the limo when Hades had gripped her tight. It was a sign of his need and of his restraint.

He looked up at her. “Was this me?”

“It’s okay,” she whispered, and ran her fingers through his hair.

But Hades frowned and kissed each bruise—eight in total. Persephone counted.

Slowly, he moved from the outside in, closer to her core. And then his mouth was on her and a cry escaped her. She felt molten where he touched her, and it spread all over her body. His tongue circled her clit and parted her damp flesh, drinking her until she came apart.

He rose to his full height and kissed her hard on the lips. She melted into him, wrapping her legs around his waist. She could feel his cock pressing into her entrance, and she wanted desperately to feel him inside her. To know what it was to be filled up and whole.

Hades pulled away from the kiss, wordlessly asking for permission, and she would have granted it had she not heard a soft, feminine voice call out, “Lord Hades?”

Hades twisted her so that the woman who approached could only see her back. They were chest-to-chest, and Persephone’s legs were still wrapped around Hades’ waist. She let her hand slip between them and wrapped her fingers around his hard flesh. Hades eyes bore into hers as she touched him.

“Ha—”

Persephone recognized the voice now—it was Minthe. She couldn’t see the beautiful nymph, but knew by her voice that she was shocked to find them together. She had probably expected Persephone to heed her earlier warning and stay away.

“Yes, Minthe?” Hades’ voice was tight. Persephone wasn’t sure if it was because he was angry at being interrupted or the fact that she had just stroked him from root to tip. He was thick and hard and soft.

“We…missed you at dinner,” Minthe said. “But I see that you are busy.”

Another stroke.

“Very,” he gritted out.

“I will let the cook know you have been thoroughly sated.”

Another.

“Quite,” he gritted out.

The soft click of Minthe’s heels echoed and disappeared. When she was out of earshot, Persephone pushed away from Hades.

She couldn’t believe she’d let this happen. She was insane—enticed by pretty words and a stunningly attractive god. She should have stayed away—not because of Minthe’s warning, but because of Minthe herself.

“Where are you going?” he demanded, following after her.

“How often does Minthe come to you in the bath?” she asked as she stepped out of the pool.

“Persephone.”

She didn’t look at him as she grabbed a towel to cover herself. She reached for the peplos and the crown Ian had made for her.

“Look at me, Persephone.”

She did.

He hadn’t quite exited the pool, but stood on the steps, his feet and calves submerged. He was huge—his body and his erection.

“Minthe is my assistant.”

“Then she can assist you with your need,” she said, looking right at his cock. She started to move away, but Hades reached for her and pulled her to him.

“I don’t want Minthe,” he growled.

“I don’t want Hades tilted his head to the side, and his eyes flashed. “You don’t…want me?”

“No,” she said, but it was as if she was trying to convince herself, especially since Hades’ eyes had dropped to her lips.

“Do you know all of my powers, Persephone?” he asked, finally leveling his gaze with hers.

It was really hard to think when he was so close, and she looked at him warily, wondering what he was getting at. “Some of them.”

“Enlighten me.”

She recalled the passage she’d read about the Lord of the Dead’s magic. “Illusion.”

As she spoke, he leaned in, lightly kissing the column of her neck. “Yes.”

“Invisibility?”

A press of his tongue in the hollow of her throat. “Very valuable.”

“Charm?” she breathed.

“Hmm.” The hum of his words vibrated against her skin, lower this time, closer to her breast. “But it doesn’t work on you, does it?”

“No,” she swallowed hard.

“You seem to not have heard of one of my most valuable talents.” He pulled the towel down, exposing her breasts, and took one tight bud between his teeth, sucking until a guttural sound escaped her mouth. He pulled back and leveled his gaze with hers. “I can taste lies, Persephone. And yours are as sweet as your skin.”

She pushed at him, and he took a step back. “This was a mistake.” That part she believed. She had come here to meet the terms of her contract. How had she ended up naked in a pool with the God of the Dead? Persephone grabbed her clothes from the floor and moved up the steps.

“You might believe this was a mistake,” he said, and she paused, but didn’t turn to look at him. “But you want me. I was inside you. I tasted you. That is a truth you will never escape.”

She shivered and ran.