That Fatal Kiss (22 page)

“Persephone, look at me,” the god commanded, his voice revealing his own strain.

Her eyes opened at the harshly uttered command. Hades’ face loomed above, his dark, all-seeing eyes locked on hers as he drew the head of his shaft along her trembling heat. “I love you,” he said, “and you are mine.” Hades held her gaze as he sank into her and she promptly forgot to breathe.

Even as he filled her, Hades urged softly, “Take me in deeper, my darling.”

Persephone melted, losing the capacity for conscious thought, but her body knew what to do. Her legs responded to her lord’s demand by rising and wrapping around him.

Now the goddess didn’t need to tell her body to loosen, for it was no longer under her control, but his. Everything was Hades, his scent flooded her nostrils, the rasp of his breath sounded loudly with the rush of ichor in Persephone’s ears, their skin fused together, no longer two, but one. And something emanated from within the god and latched onto her immortal soul, making the final claim, marking her as his, always, and she welcomed his possession.

Hades rocked her steadily, resisting Persephone’s hips when they urged rougher motion. With one hand he braced himself, while the other shook slightly as it clasped her close. “Slowly my love, my light. I want you to know, to the very depth of your being, as I do, that we belong to one another.”

The goddess attempted reply but suddenly a tremor gathered in her womb and her muscles all came together, clenching as her climax neared. Then it exploded in a rush and Hades kissed her, breathing in her cry of rapture.

Persephone’s body shook, her hands clawed Hades’ back as the spasms of exquisitely painful pleasure seized her. He raised her bottom and slid in deeper still, holding himself in place as she quivered all around him.

“Hades,” she choked, then buried her face in his neck and bit down on his shoulder, drawing from him a lusty groan.

The god breathed, “My queen,” then stiffened and gave a violent shudder.

Persephone pulled his face to hers and laid kiss after loving kiss upon it. Hades was still so hard within her, and she was so tender, so sensitized to the feel of him, that her mind reeled and she wanted to take all of him inside her. “Hades,” she said between kisses, “I never knew…it was never like—” Hades’ mouth covered hers and she abandoned herself to the need to consume and be consumed.

And so they tossed about the massive bed in this way, physically joined and untiring of one another’s kisses. Many moments passed and they spoke not a word, but savored the hush, delighting in their connected bodies, hands hungrily stroking every stretch of skin. Then Persephone laid a warm kiss on Hades’ cheek and snuggled into his arms. Hades wrapped himself around her and they listened to the counterpoint of their hearts and breaths, until the arms of Morpheus embraced them both.

Mount Etna, Sicily

ATHENA TRAVERSED THROUGH
the barren meadows once again. It was dark night, with only the slightest illumination from Artemis’ lunar chariot, when she felt a tremendous quake rock the Earth beneath her feet. As she was thrown to the ground, she cast her arms out to steady herself. She did not brace against the upheaval but allowed her body to sway with it. The shaking began quietly, amplified to a shattering peak, and just as suddenly subsided. When all was again peaceful, she looked about, attempting to distinguish the source of the movement. She laid her hands upon the cool Earth, to see if she could feel any more vibrations, but there were none.

A smile settled itself onto the goddess’ features as she rose to her feet, and broadened upon seeing Hecate coming up the mountainside, a parcel under one arm. The soft light of her cousin’s moon illuminated the Witch’s hair, casting a silvery sheen to it, and she smiled upon recognizing Athena. When Hecate neared the Goddess of Wisdom they embraced heartily.

“I have not seen you in an age!” Athena said, noting that something twinkled in the Witch’s eyes and it wasn’t moonlight.

“Pallas, what a joy it is to see you!” Hecate exclaimed, but then eyed the goddess’ severely pulled back ringlets with displeasure. “Really, dear, I do wish you would adorn your hair in another fashion, it is most unbecoming this way and suits you not at all.”

Athena’s eyes burned with gentle mockery. “That is exactly why I wear it this way, as you well know.”

Hecate’s expression showed what she thought of the Virgin’s resolve. As they had argued the matter many times before, she changed the subject. “Why are you here at this hour of the night?”

“It was on Etna that I last saw the daughter of Demeter, before her disappearance,” Athena explained. “I cannot seem to quit the place. I expect I will revisit it until some news is heard of her.” She now eyed the luminous goddess with interest, asking, “Did you know of her disappearance? I have not seen you for quite some time, indeed, now that I do see you, I wonder that you have not put in an appearance sooner. Surely you have been made aware of Demeter’s grief for the loss of her daughter?”

Hecate looked down at her opened parcel and offered a supper cake, left by one of her supplicants, to Athena. She herself chewed on a honey sweetened treat a bit before replying, “No, I hadn’t heard of Demeter’s grief until fairly recently. I have been occupied by my labors below ground.”

“Hmmm. Speaking of the ground, what did you think of that tremor just now?” Athena did not miss the salacious smile that crossed the white-haired goddess’ face as she looked back down at her parcel.

Hecate smiled as she delicately wiped a crumb from her lip. “Was there a tremor?”

The idiotic response did not deter the Warrior. “Hecate, what do you know?”

“I?” Hecate gasped, eyes wide. “Why would anyone think I knew anything?”

“I’m beginning to wonder that myself,” Athena said, then grasped the other’s soft arm firmly. “How does she fare?”

Hecate favored her friend with a vacuous stare. “Who?”

“Persephone!” Athena hissed.

Hecate glanced pointedly at Athena’s hand, which now squeezed her flesh. The raven-haired goddess released her and prodded, “Well?”

“I’ve really no idea why you think I would have the answer to that question,” Hecate prevaricated, wrapping her package up securely and making as if to take her leave. She did look back, however, to offer Athena a conspiratorial grin. “Though I would wager to say that if Grandmother Earth was so moved, our friend must be well indeed!”

“That is heartening,” Athena said with a grin. “I think I may return to my bed on Olympus now, knowing that.”

She turned, intending to make her way back to her tethered horse, when a thought occurred. “Hecate,” Athena said, facing the Witch again, “I don’t suppose you’ve noticed anything unusual in your travels through this region, have you?”

Hecate’s brow puckered. “Unusual in what way?”

“I’m hardly sure myself. Father told me Hermes has heard a peculiar rumbling throughout this area. I’ve not, but have you?”

“I haven’t really been in the area long enough to distinguish anything out of the ordinary, but I’ll keep my ears open henceforth.”

“I thank you,” Athena said. “Might I return the favor by conveying you to your destination?”

“Nay, I wish to tramp about Etna some more, get a bit of exercise.”

The Warrior Goddess chuckled. “As should I, according to your cousin.”

Hecate made a face. “It’s she who should endeavor to exercise a different set of muscles altogether.”

At the lurid wink which followed, Athena laughed but spared a wish for the opportunity to do the same herself.

XVI.

Hades’ Palace, The Underworld

WHEN PERSEPHONE AWOKE,
late the following morning, she found Hades’ arm about her securely. The weight, though unanticipated, was not unwelcome. She felt his breath brush against her hair and enjoyed its warmth. Closing her eyes, she thought she might join him in a few more moments of slumber. And she might have succeeded in going back to sleep, had it not been for the plaintive groan her stomach gave. She stilled, afraid that the noise had wakened Hades. Sure enough, she felt him stir beside her. Would he reproach her for fasting? She tensely awaited his next movement and was relieved when she felt his lips brushing a kiss on the back of her neck.

“Good day to you, Hades,” she said, turning to face him and kissing him.

“And to you, Kore,” he said, returning the salutation.

The goddess wrapped an arm over his naked waist and inquired, “Will you be returning to your rightful bedchamber from now on?”

“If you wish it, yes.”

She nodded, declaring dramatically, “This I swear by the Styx, that you are most welcome to come lie with me.”

“Those are binding words you utter, Kore. Do you not fear one day coming to regret them?”

“I didn’t until you said that.”

He smiled at her cross tones. “What can I offer in my defense against your ire except to say that I have always erred on the side of caution?”

“Say that you will surrender to folly instead,” she replied, then added with a grin, “I have.”

They conversed in that leisurely manner for some time, staring into each other’s eyes all the while. Yet, even as they luxuriated, a telltale line creased Hades’ brow. The frown worried the goddess, who asked, “Does something trouble you?”

Persephone thought Hades would toss out some flippant denial, and then wished he had, when he said, “I was thinking about your first night in Erebus. You mentioned…others.”

“So I did,” the goddess replied, growing anxious though she had no idea why she should.

“…if I ask you to really swear by the Styx to be truthful, will you do it?”

“Of course I will. I do.”

A moment of silence expanded into eternity as Hades solemnly regarded Persephone. Then he asked, “How many others?”

Persephone held her breath a moment before saying, “Why do you ask?”

“I want to know.”

“Why? What does it matter now?”

“You mean, now that we’ve…?” At her nod, Hades lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t know.”

“Then why ask for an answer that could harm our relations?” she asked, feeling her throat grow dry.

His lips tightening, Hades persisted, “Will you now be forsworn or will you answer my question truthfully?”

“Certainly I will answer,” the goddess said, unable to keep a slight quiver from her voice. “And my truthful answer is that I do not wish to give you the tally.”

He winced at that. “Is it so great a number, then?”

Persephone broke their physical contact by sitting up. She looked down at him without expression, though her heart raced in her chest. “No, but—the number is irrelevant.”

“I disagree.”

“Yet you cannot defend your logic.”

Hades’ eyes fixed on hers as he propped his head up on one arm. “Then defend yours.”

The goddess felt a trembling in her legs and strove to reply composedly. “We agreed that we would allow time and discretion to advance our relations, did we not?”

“Yes.”

“How will dredging up the past aid in that endeavor?”

“Would it not aid in our understanding of one another?”

“Would it?” she asked sharply. “Or would it only serve to give life to suspicion?”

“Don’t you see that your reluctance to grant me this small satisfaction does just that?” he returned, equally sharp.

“Would the number truly give you satisfaction, Hades? Think, now, really force yourself to envision it. Imagine that I have given you the most exaggerated figure of which you can conceive. What then? If I were to confirm it, how satisfied do you think you would be?” When Hades cast his eyes down, she continued, “You would be as tormented as I would be, were you to give me your own reckoning.”

At that, the god’s eyes flew up to meet hers. “That knowledge would upset you?”

“Of course!” she said, her face pale. “I would balk at hearing it. I would wonder at your sentiments, wonder if you’d loved another, if you loved her still. I would be fearful of not being her equal, and even more fearful of your ever coming across her again.”

Hades attempted to place a calming hand against her cheek. “Persephone—”