A Touch of Darkness (Hades x Persephone Saga Book 1)

When Persephone woke, she was aware of two things: one, she was in a stranger’s bed; and two, she was naked. She bolted up, holding black silk sheets to her chest. She was in Hades’ room—she recognized it from the day she’d fallen into the Styx and he’d healed her—and she found Hades sitting before his blazing fireplace. It was probably the most god-like she’d ever seen him. He looked perfectly untouched—not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle in his jacket, not a button undone. He held his whiskey in one hand, and the fingers of his other hand rested against his lips. The halo of fire roaring behind him was also fitting, raging like his eyes.

It was how she knew that though he appeared to be reclining, he was wound tight.

He kept her gaze, not speaking, and took a sip of his drink.

“Why am I naked?” Persephone asked.

“Because you insisted on it,” he answered in a voice void of the barely-restrained desire he’d exhibited in the limo. She didn’t have many memories from last night, but she was sure she’d never forget the press of Hades’ fingers into her thighs, or the delicious friction that sent shockwaves through her body. “You were very determined to seduce me.”

Persephone blushed fiercely and averted her gaze. “Did we—”

Hades laughed darkly, and Persephone clenched her teeth so hard, her jaw hurt. Why was he laughing? “No, Lady Persephone. Trust me, when we fuck, you’ll remember.”

When? “Your arrogance is alarming.”

His eyes flashed. “Is that a challenge?”

“Just tell me what happened, Hades!” She demanded.

“You were drugged at La Rose. You’re lucky you are immortal. Your body burned through the poison fast.”

Not fast enough to prevent embarrassment, apparently.

She remembered a waitress approaching once they’d hit the dance floor, how she’d brought them drinks and said they were on the house. Soon after she’d consumed hers and started dancing, the music had sounded far away, the lights were blinding, and every move she made sent her head spinning.

She also remembered hands on her body and cold lips closing over hers.

“Adonis,” Persephone said. Hades jaw tightened at hearing the mortal’s name. “What did you do to him?”

Hades looked at his glass, swirling the whiskey before downing the last bit. Once he finished, he set the glass aside, not looking at her. “He is alive, but that is only because he was in his goddess’s territory.”

“You knew!” Persephone pushed off the bed, and stood, Hades’ silk sheets rustling around her. His penetrating gaze drifted from her face down, tracing every line of her body. She felt as if she were standing bare before him. “Is that why you warned me to stay away from him?”

“I assure you, there are more reasons to stay away from that mortal than the favor Aphrodite has bestowed upon him.”

“Like what? You can’t expect me to understand if you don’t explain anything.” She’d taken a step toward him, even though some part of her knew it was dangerous. Whatever Hades had gone through in the night was clearly still racing through his mind.

“I expect that you will trust me,” he said, standing. The blunt admission shocked her. “And if not me, then my power.”

She hadn’t even considered his powers—the ability to see the soul for what it was, raw and burdened. What did he see when he looked at Adonis?

A thief, she thought. A manipulator.

Hades put distance between them, refilling his glass at the small bar in his room.

“I thought you were jealous!”

Hades was about to take a drink, but he paused to laugh. She was both angry and hurt at his dismissal.

“Don’t pretend you don’t get jealous, Hades. Adonis kissed me last night.”

Hades slammed the glass down. “Keep reminding me, Goddess, and I’ll reduce him to ash.”

“So, you are jealous!” she accused.

“Jealous?” he stalked toward her. “That… leech… touched you after you told him not to. I have sent souls to Tartarus for less.”

She recalled Hades’ anger at Duncan, the ogre who had laid his hands on her, and she realized that was why he was on edge. He probably did want to find Adonis and incinerate him.

“I’m…sorry.” She wasn’t sure what to say, but his distress seemed so great, she thought she might ease it with an apology.

She only made it worse.

“Don’t you dare apologize.” He cupped her face. “Not for him. Never for him.” He studied her and whispered, “Why are you so desperate to hate me?”

Her brows came together, and she covered his hands with hers. “I don’t hate you,” she said quietly, and Hades stiffened, tearing away from her. The violence with which he moved surprised her, and the anger and tension returned.

“No? Shall I remind you? Hades, Lord of the Underworld, Rich One, and arguably the most hated god among mortals, exhibits a clear disregard for mortal life.”

He quoted her article word for word, and Persephone cringed. How many times had he read it? How he must have seethed.

Hades’ jaw worked. “This is what you think of me?”

She opened her mouth and closed it before deciding to explain, “I was angry—”

“Oh, that is more than obvious.” Hades’ voice was sharp.

“I didn’t know they would publish it!”

“A scathing letter illustrating all of my faults? You didn’t think the media would publish it?”

She glared at him. “I warned you.”’

It was the wrong thing to say.

“You warned me?” He set his gaze upon her, dark and angry. “You warned me about what, Goddess?”

“I warned you that you would regret our contract.”

“And I warned you not to write about me.” He stepped closer to her, and she didn’t back down, tilting her head to keep his gaze.

“Perhaps in my next article, I’ll write about how bossy you are,” she said.

“Next article?”

“You didn’t know? I’ve been asked to write a series on you.”

“No,” he said.

“You can’t say no. You’re not in control here.”

“And you think you are?”

“I’ll write the articles, Hades, and the only way I’ll stop is if you let me out of this Gods-damned contract!”

Hades went rigid, then hissed, “You think to bargain with me, Goddess?” The heat coming off him was almost unbearable. He inched forward, though it wasn’t like he had much space—he was already so close to her. She stuck out one hand, clutching the sheet to her body with the other. “You’ve forgotten one important thing, Lady Persephone. To bargain, you need to have something I want.”

“You asked me if I believed what I wrote!” she argued. “You care!”

“It’s called a bluff, darling.”

“Bastard,” she hissed.

Hades reached out. Burying his hand in her hair, he hauled her against him and pulled her head back so that her throat felt taut. It was savage and possessive. Her breath caught in her throat, and the space between her thighs felt damp. She craved him. “Let me be clear—you bargained, and you lost. There is no way out of our contract unless you fulfill its terms. Otherwise, you remain here. With me.”

“If you make me your prisoner, I will spend the rest of my life hating you.”

“You already do.”

She flinched again. She didn’t like that he thought that and kept saying it. “Do you really believe that?”

He didn’t answer, just offered a mocking laugh, and then pressed a hot kiss to her mouth before tearing away viciously. “I will erase the memory of him from your skin.”

She was surprised by his ferocity, but it thrilled her. He tore away the silk sheet, leaving her naked before him, and when he lifted her off the ground she wrapped her legs around his waist without a second thought. He gripped her bottom tight and his mouth crashed into her. The friction of his clothes against her bare skin drove her to the edge, and liquid heat pooled at her core. Persephone raked her hands into Hades’ hair, grazing his scalp as she freed the long strands, gripping them hard in her hands. She pulled his head back and kissed him hard and deep. A guttural sound escaped Hades’ mouth at that, and he moved, backing her into the bedpost, grinding into her hard. His teeth grazed her skin, biting and sucking in a way that kept her from breathing, eliciting gasps from deep in her throat.

Together they were mindless, and when she found herself sprawled out on the bed, she knew she would give Hades anything. He wouldn’t even have to ask.

But the God of the Dead stood over her, breathing hard. His hair spilled over his shoulders; his eyes were dark, angry, aroused—and instead of closing the distance he had created between them, he smirked.

It was unsettling, and Persephone knew she wasn’t going to like what came next.

“Well, you would probably enjoy fucking me, but you definitely don’t like me.”

Then he was gone.

***

Persephone found her dress neatly folded in one of the two chairs in front of Hades’ fireplace with a black cloak beside it. As she pulled on the dress and the cloak, she thought of how Hades had looked at her when she awoke. How long had he sat watching her sleep? How long had he simmered in his rage? Who was this god who appeared out of nowhere to rescue her from unwanted advances, claimed it wasn’t jealousy, and folded her clothes? Who accused her of hating him, but kissed her like he had never partook of something so sweet?

Her body flushed as she thought about how he’d lifted her and moved her to the bed. She couldn’t recall what she’d been thinking, but she knew it wasn’t telling him to stop—still, he’d left her.

That heady flush turned to anger.

He’d laughed and left her.

Because this is a game to him, she reminded herself. She couldn’t let her strange and electric attraction to him overpower that reality. She had a contract to fulfill.

Persephone left Hades’ room via the balcony to check on her garden. Despite her resentment of the greenhouse, she still loved flowers, and the God of the Underworld had managed to create one of the most beautiful gardens she’d ever seen. She marveled at the colors and the scents—the sweet smell of wisteria, the heady and sultry scent of gardenias and roses, the calming aroma of lavender.

And it was all magic.

Hades had lifetimes to learn his powers, to craft illusions that deceived the senses. Persephone had never known the feel of power in her blood. Did it burn hot like the need Hades ignited within her? Did it feel like last night when she’d boldly straddled him and whispered challenges in his ear as she tasted his skin?

That had been power.

For a moment, she’d controlled him.

She’d seen lust cloud his gaze, heard his growl of passion, felt his hard arousal. But she’d not been powerful enough to keep him under her spell.

She was beginning to think she would never be powerful enough.

Which was why a mortal life suited her so well—why she could not let Hades win.

Except she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to win when her garden still looked like a scorched piece of earth. As she came to the end of the path, the lush gardens gave way to a bald patch where the soil was more like sand, and black as ash. It had been a few weeks since she’d planted the seeds in the ground. They should be sprouting by now. Even without magic, mortal gardens at least produced that much life. If it had been her mother’s garden, it would already be fully grown. Persephone had harbored a secret hope that through this process, she would discover some dormant power that didn’t involve stealing life—but standing before this barren patch of earth made her realize how ridiculous that hope was.

She couldn’t just wait around for power to manifest or for mortal seeds to sprout in the Underworld’s impossible soil. She had to do something more.

She straightened and went in search of Hecate.

Persephone found the Goddess in a grove near her home. Hecate wore purple robes today, and her long hair was braided and snaked over her shoulder. She sat cross-legged in the soft grass, petting a furry weasel. Persephone squealed when she saw it.

“What is that?” she demanded.

Hecate smiled softly and scratched the creature behind its small ear. “This is Gale. She is a polecat.”

“That is not a cat.”

“Polecat.” Hecate laughed quietly. “She was once a human witch, but she was an idiot, so I turned her into a polecat.”

Persephone stared at the goddess, but Hecate didn’t seem to notice her stunned silence.

“I like her better this way,” Hecate added, then looked up at Persephone. “But enough about Gale. What can I help you with, my dear?”

That question was all it took—Persephone erupted, breaking into a seething tangent about Hades, the contract, and her impossible wager, avoiding details about this morning’s disaster. She even admitted her greatest secret—that she could not grow a single thing. When she finished, Hecate pursed her lips, looking thoughtful but not surprised.

“If you cannot give life, what can you do?” she asked.

“Destroy it.”

Hecate’s pretty brows furrowed over her dark eyes. “You have never grown anything at all?”

Persephone shook her head.

“Show me.”

“Hecate…I don’t think that’s—”

“I’d like to see.”

Persephone sighed and turned her hands over. She stared at her palms for a long moment before bending and pressing them to the grass. Where it was green before, it yellowed and withered beneath her touch. When she looked at Hecate, the goddess was staring at her hands. “I think that is why Hades’ challenged me to create life—because he knew it was impossible.”

Hecate did not look so certain. “Hades does not challenge people with the impossible. He challenges them to embrace their potential.”

“And what is my potential?”

“To be the Goddess of Spring.” The polecat hopped off Hecate’s lap as she got to her feet, brushing off her skirts. Persephone expected the goddess to continue asking questions about her magic, but instead she said, “Gardening is not the only way to create life.”

Persephone stared at her. “How else should I create life?”

She could tell by the amused look on her face that she wasn’t going to like what Hecate had to say. “You could have a baby.”

“What?”

“Of course, to fulfill the contract, Hades would have to be the father,” she continued as if she hadn’t heard Persephone. “He would be furious if it were anyone else.”

She decided she was going to ignore that comment. “I’m not having Hades’ child, Hecate.”

“You asked for suggestions. I was merely trying to be a good friend.”

“And you are—but I am not ready for children and Hades is not a god I would want as a father to them anyway.” Though she did feel a bit guilty for saying that last part out loud. “What am I going to do? Ugh, this is impossible!”

“It is not as impossible as it seems, my dear. You are in the Underworld, after all.”

“You do realize the Underworld is the realm of the dead, don’t you, Hecate?”

“It is also a place for new beginnings,” she said. “Sometimes, the existence a soul leads here is the best life they’ve ever had. I’m sure you, of all the gods, understand that best.”

The realization settled heavy on Persephone’s shoulders. She did understand that.

“Living here is no different than living up there,” Hecate added. “You challenged Hades to help mortals lead a better existence. He has merely charged you with the same here in the Underworld.”