A Touch of Malice (Hades x Persephone Saga Book 3)

Persephone ate dinner with the souls in Asphodel. When she returned to the palace, she bathed and changed into a white night gown that stuck to her damp skin. Heading to her bedroom, she was not surprised to find it empty, despite feeling Hades’ presence somewhere in the Underworld. She thought of her conversation with Hecate, and knew she had to end this before it went any further.

Stepping out onto the balcony, she went in search of him, descending the stairs into Hades’ lush garden. The stone pathway was cool against her bare feet, and the air felt damp as if it had just rained, though, as far as Persephone was aware, it did not rain in the Underworld.

As she broke through the shady canopy of the garden, dusk settled in muted tones of pink and orange and blue. A skeletal moon was growing brighter, and beneath that beautiful sky, was Hades. Cerberus, Typhon, and Orthrus ran in circles around him, flattening the grass as they chased after their red ball. It was Cerberus who noticed her first—then Typhon, then Orthrus, and last, Hades who turned and stared as she approached. His eyes were dark and burned every part of her exposed skin. Desire erupted in her stomach, hardening her nipples beneath the thin fabric of her nightgown.

She halted a few steps from him.

“I haven’t seen you all day,” she said.

“It was a busy day,” he answered. “As was yours. I saw the grove.”

“You do not sound impressed.”

“I am, but to say I am surprised would be a lie. I know your capabilities.”

Hades had always known her potential, and yet he’d been the first to teach her that her worth was not tied to her power. It was a hard lesson to learn when the value of the Divine was placed upon their abilities.

Silence stretched between them as the words Persephone wanted to say crowded her mouth. Hades looked so haunted, standing there beneath his beautiful sky. She wanted him so badly—his warmth and his scent. Just say the words, she thought, taking a deep breath, as if to prepare, but she only managed to let it out in a slow stream of air.

“Did you come to say goodnight?” Hades asked.

Persephone looked at him, surprised. She never sought him out to say goodnight because she did not have to—he always went to bed with her, even if he did not stay.

“Will you not come to bed with me?” She asked, watching as Hades’ throat bobbed.

“I will join you shortly,” he replied, but he did not look at her. Instead, he stared off at the fading horizon. It was the second night he’d lied.

Her throat tightened.

She considered leaving—fleeing, really. In the face of the wall Hades was building, it seemed easier to run away than attempt to tear it down. Except, she knew that wasn’t true.

“I want to talk about the other night,” she said, imbuing her voice with as much confidence as she could.

Her request drew Hades’ attention—his fierce gaze, his clenched jaw, his tense body. He opened his mouth and then closed it before looking away.

“I did not mean to hurt you,” he said, and those words opened a raw wound in her chest.

“I know,” Persephone said, tears burned her eyes. In turn, Hades’ own breath came fast, as if he were holding back a dam of emotion.

“I was so lost in my desire, in what I wished to do with you, I didn’t see what was happening. I pushed you too far. It will never happen again.”

No, she wanted to scream. It was what she feared—that Hades would halt exploring with her out of fear.

“What if that’s what I want?” she asked.

Hades stared at her, searching her gaze, and she continued.

“I want to try so many things with you, but I am afraid you will not want me.”

“Persephone—” Hades took a tentative step forward, then another.

“I know it isn’t true, but I cannot help how I think, and I thought it was better to say what was on my mind than keep it to myself. I don’t want to stop learning with you.”

His hands came to rest upon her face, a gentle touch, as if she were porcelain. He tilted her head so that her gaze would meet his and spoke.

“I will always want you.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and as he pulled away, Persephone latched into his forearms.

“I know you hurt for me, but I need you.”

“I am here.”

She held his gaze and guided his hands from her face to her breasts.

“Touch me,” she whispered. “We can go slow.”

She did not release his hands as he gently squeezed her breasts, or when his thumb and forefinger brushed her nipples.

“What else?” he asked, voice low and husky.

“Kiss me,” she said, and he did. His lips pressed gently to hers and his tongue slid over the seam of her mouth. She opened for him, tasting him, their rhythm a slow, intoxicating exchange. Hades hands remained on her breasts, kneading and caressing.

Then he shifted closer, one hand moving into her hair, and froze suddenly, pulling away.

“I’m sorry, I did not ask if that was okay.”

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “I’m okay.”

She reached for him and brought their lips together. This time, she led, driving her tongue into his mouth. Her fingers thrust through his silken hair, releasing it from its tight binding. She used it to pull him closer and kiss him harder and then her hands shifted—skimming down his chest to his cock, which strained, desperate for release.

This time, his hand came to rest over hers, grinding against her palm.

“Touch me,” he said.

And she did, first through the fabric, but when that wasn’t enough, she unbuttoned his pants and freed his sex—he was warm and soft and hard and as her hand moved, working from root to tip, they continued to kiss until Hades pulled away, his face glistened with sweat.

“Kneel,” she whispered, and they both hit their knees, kissing desperately until Persephone eased Hades onto his back. She lifted her gown and straddled him, sliding over his sex with her own—the friction was delicious and without delay she guided him inside her. She let out a breath so deep, it felt like her soul had left her body. Hades groaned, his fingers digging into her thighs.

“Yes,” he hissed, as she moved, rolling her hips to feel him deeper. Their eyes held and their breath quickened. Persephone took his hands, guiding them over her body—to her breasts, down her sides, over her ass.

“Fuck,” Hades’ curse was low and breathless.

She leaned forward and kissed him, devoured him, drowned in him—there was nothing but him beneath the skeletal moon and starry sky and when she grew too weak to move, Hades sat up, gripped her neck and her back and helped her slide along his cock until he came.

They sat in the middle of the field, joined, until their breathing eased. After, Persephone stood on wobbly legs. Hades’ held her hands from the ground.

“Are you well?”

She smiled down at him.

“Yes. Very.”

Hades followed her to her feet and restored his appearance. After a moment, he held out his hand.

“Are you ready for bed, my darling?”

“As long as you are coming, too.”

“Of course,” he replied.

As they made their way back through the garden, Hades’ pace slowed to a stop. Persephone looked at him, wary.

“What is it?”

“When you said you wanted to…try…things with me. What things, exactly?”

Persephone’s face flushed—it was ironic, given that they’d just had sex in the field outside the palace.

“What are you willing to teach?” she asked.

“Anything,” he said. “Everything.”

“Perhaps we should begin where we failed,” she answered. “With…bondage.”

Hades stared at her for a long moment, before brushing a piece of her hair from her face.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. “I will tell you when I feel afraid.”

Hades rested his forehead against hers, and as he spoke, his breath warmed her lips.

“You hold my heart in your hands, Persephone.”

“And your cock, too, apparently,” Hermes said.

They turned to find the God of Mischief standing a few steps away looking thoroughly amused. He was dressed as if he’d stepped out of antiquity, in gold robes that shimmered in the night and sandals that squeezed his calves.

“Hermes,” Hades growled.

“I thought interrupting now was probably better than a few minutes ago,” he said.

“You were watching?” Persephone asked, torn between feeling angry and embarrassed.

“To be fair…you were having sex in the middle of the Underworld,” Hermes pointed out.

“And I have thrown you just as far,” Hades said. “Need a reminder?”

“Ah, no. If you are going to be angry at anyone, be angry at Zeus. He sent me.”

Persephone’s stomach dropped.

“Why?” she asked.

“He’s called for a feast,” he said.

“A feast? Tonight?”

“Yes,” Hermes looked at his wrist, which Persephone noted had no watch. “In exactly an hour.”

“And we must be in attendance?” she asked.

“Well, I didn’t just watch you have sex for nothing,” Hermes said mildly.

Persephone rolled her eyes. “Why must we attend? And why at such short notice?”

“He did not say, but perhaps he has finally decided to bless your union,” Hermes paused to chuckle. “I mean, why would he call for a banquet if he was going to say no?”

“Have you met my brother?” Hades asked, clearly not amused.

“Unfortunately, yes. He’s my father,” Hermes responded, then he clapped his hands together. “Well, I’ll see you two soon.”

Hermes vanished.

Persephone turned fully to Hades.

“Do you think it is true? That he is summoning us to bless our marriage?”

Hades’ jaw visibly relaxed before he answered, “I will not venture to guess.”

To Persephone, that translated to—I will not hope—and she’d be lying if she didn’t admit that it only made her feel more uneasy.

“What do I wear?” Persephone asked.

Hades looked down at her. “Let me dress you.”

She smirked. “Do you really think that is wise?”

“Yes,” he said, drawing her close with an arm around her waist. “For one, it will not take long, which means we have approximately fifty-nine minutes for anything you may desire.”

“Anything?” She asked, leaning close.

“Yes,” Hades breathed.

“Then I desire…a bath.”

While she’d just left them, she had spent the last few minutes rolling around in the grass with Hades. Needless to say, she felt a little dirty.

Hades chuckled. “Coming up, my queen.”