A Touch of Ruin (Hades & Persephone #2) - Scarlett St. Clair Page 0,21
found release.
When he was finished, he sat back on his heels, brought his fingers to his lips, and sucked them clean.
“You are my favorite flavor,” he said. “I could drink from you all day.”
Hades gripped her hips and pulled her toward him, sliding into her in one slick thrust. She felt him in her blood and bones and soul.
The friction built inside her, and soon her moans turned to screams.
“Say my name,” Hades growled.
Persephone clutched the silk beneath her. The sheets stuck to her skin, her body warm with perspiration.
“Say it!” he commanded.
“Hades!” she gasped.
“Again.”
“Hades.”
“Pray to me,” he commanded. “Beg me to make you come.”
“Hades.” She was out of breath--her words barely formed. “Please.”
He thrust.
“Please what?”
Thrust.
“Make me come.”
Thrust.
“Do it!” she screamed.
They came together, and Hades collapsed on top of her, kissing her deeply, the taste of her still upon his lips. After a moment, he gathered her into his arms and teleported to the baths where they showered and worshipped one another again.
With an hour to spare before she had to be up, Persephone laid down to rest. Hades stretched out beside her, holding her close.
“Persephone?” Hades spoke, the scuff of his beard tickling her ear.
“Hmm?” She was too tired to use words, eyes heavy with sleep.
“Speak another’s name in this bed again and know you have assigned their soul to Tartarus.”
She opened her eyes. She wanted to look at him, to see the violence in his gaze and chase it—why had this upset him so much? Did the God of the Underworld, Rich One, Receiver of Many, fear Apollo?
After his warning, Hades relaxed, his breath grew even and calm. Reluctant to disturb his peace, she snuggled close and fell asleep.
CHAPTER V - ROYAL TREATMENT
Persephone relayed the disastrous conversation she’d had with Hades to Lexa at lunch the next day. They’d chosen a booth at the back of their favorite cafe, The Yellow Daffodil, that gave them relative privacy. Despite the roar of the restaurant, Persephone felt paranoid talking about Hades in public. She leaned over the table toward Lexa, whispering.
“I’ve never seen him so…”
Unyielding. So obstinate. He was usually willing to at least hear her out, but from the moment Apollo’s name had left her mouth, Hades had been finished with the conversation.
“Hades has a point,” Lexa said, leaning back in her chair, crossing her legs.
Persephone looked at her best friend, surprised she would side with the God of the Dead.
“I mean, do you really think you can touch Apollo’s reputation? He’s the Golden Boy of New Athens.”
“An honor he doesn’t deserve considering how he treats the men and women he ‘loves.’”
“But...what if people don’t believe you, Persephone?”
“I can’t worry about whether or not people will believe me, Lex.”
The thought that Apollo’s victims would be ignored because of his popularity infuriated her, but what enraged her more was that she knew Lexa was right, there was a chance no one would believe her.
“I know. I’m just saying...it might not play out like you think.”
Persephone frowned, confused by her friend’s words. “And what do I think?”
Lexa twisted her fingers together on the table in front of her and shrugged, finally lifting her gaze to Persephone’s. Her eyes looked more vivid today, probably due to the smokey shadow she wore.
“I don’t know. I mean, you are literally hoping for reason from a god who can’t take rejection. It’s like you think you can magically change Apollo’s behavior with some words.”
Persephone flinched, and noticed that Lexa’s eyes shifted to Persephone’s shoulder. In her peripheral, she saw green, and when she looked, a thread of vines had sprouted out of her skin. Persephone clapped a hand over them. Of all the times her magic had responded to her emotions, it had never manifested liked this. She pulled the vines free and blood spilled down her arm.
“Oh, my gods!” Lexa shoved a wad of napkins into her hands and Persephone pressed them against her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Has this ever happened before?”
“No,” she said, peeling back the napkins to look at the wound the vines left behind. The gash was small, like she’d been scratched by a throne and the bleeding minimal.
“Is that a goddess thing?” Lexa asked.
“I don’t know.”
She’d never seen her mother’s powers manifest this way, or Hades’ for that matter. Maybe it was just another example of how terrible she was at being a goddess.
“Will you tell Hades?”
The question surprised Persephone, and her gaze shot to Lexa’s. “Why would I tell him?”
She listed the reasons, “Because it’s never happened to