and his fingers replaced his thrusting tongue, filling and stretching until pleasure exploded throughout her body.
She was sure she was glowing.
This was rapture, euphoria, ecstasy.
And it was all interrupted by a knock at the door.
Persephone froze and tried to sit up, but Hades held her in place and growled looking up at her from his place between her legs.
“Ignore it.” It was spoken like a command, his eyes ignited like embers.
He continued ruthlessly, moving deeper, harder, faster. Persephone could barely stay on the table, she could barely breath, feeling as though she were clawing her way to the surface of the Styx again, desperate for air, but content in the knowledge that this death would be a happy one.
But the knock continued, and a hesitant voice called out, “Lord Hades?”
Persephone couldn’t tell who was on the other side of the door, but they sounded nervous and they had reason to be, because the look on Hades face was murderous.
This is how he looks when he faces souls in Tartarus, she thought.
Hades sat back on his heels.
“Go away,” he snapped.
There was a beat of silence. Then the voice said, “It’s important, Hades.”
Even Persephone noted to heightened alarm in the person’s tone. Hades sighed and stood, taking her face between his hands.
“A moment, my darling.”
“You won’t hurt him, will you?”
“Not too terribly.”
He didn’t smile as he stepped into the hallway.
Persephone felt ridiculous sitting on the edge of the table, so she slipped off, adjusted her skirts, and started to pace the extravagant dining room. Her first impression of this room had been that it was over-the-top. The ceiling boasted several unnecessary crystal chandeliers, the walls were adorned in gold, and Hades’ chair looked like a throne at the head of the table. To top it off, he rarely dined in this room, often preferring to take his meals elsewhere in the palace. That was one reason she’d decided to use it during the Solstice Celebration—all this beauty would not go to waste.
Hades returned. He seemed frustrated, his jaw flexed, and his eyes glittered with a different kind of intensity. He stopped a few inches from her, hands in his pockets.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. “And no. Ilias has made me aware of a problem better dealt with sooner than later.”
She stared at him, waiting, but he didn’t explain.
“When will you be back?”
“An hour. Maybe two.”
She frowned, and Hades’ touched her chin so that her eyes were level with his. “Trust, my darling, leaving you is the hardest decision I make each day.”
“Then don’t,” she said, placing her hands around his waist. “I’ll go with you.”
“That is not wise.” His voice was gruff, and Persephone’s brows knit together.
“Why not?”
“Persephone—”
“It’s a simple question,” she interrupted.
“It isn’t,” he snapped, and then sighed, running his fingers through his loose hair.
She stared. He had never lost this temper quite like this. What had him so agitated? She thought about pushing for an answer, but knew she would get nowhere, so instead, she relent.
“Fine,” she took a step away, creating distance between them. “I’ll be here when you return.”
Hades frowned. “I will make it up to you.”
She arched a brow and commanded, “Swear it.”
Hades’ eyes simmer beneath the glow of the crystal lights.
“Oh, darling. You don’t need to extract an oath. Nothing will keep me from fucking you.”
CHAPTER II - A TOUCH OF DUPLICITY
Persephone’s body vibrated, warmed from the spark Hades had ignited. Without supervision, the flame had spread, consuming her whole body. She sought a distraction and wandered outside where she walked through the garden, consumed by the smell of damp soil and sweet blossoms. She caressed petals and leaves as she passed until she came to the edge of the plot where a wild field of yellowing grass danced, encouraged by a whispered breezed.
She took off at a run, orange flowers bloomed at her feet as she sailed across the field. She didn’t have to focus on using her magic. It radiated from her, unfiltered and uncontrolled. Hades’ Dobermans joined her, chasing each other until she came to a halt at the edge of Hecate’s meadow. The goddess sat cross-legged outside her cottage with her eyes closed. Persephone wasn’t sure if she was meditating or casting a spell. If Persephone had to guess, she’d say the Goddess of Witchcraft was probably cursing some mortal in the Upperworld for some heinous deed against women.
Cerberus, Typhon, and Orthrus did not follow Persephone as she approached the goddess.
“Sated already?” Hecate asked, her eyes were still closed.
Persephone would