A Game of Retribution (Hades Saga #2)(7)

The Fates were.

And so they were.

That was all.

Those were not the words she wanted to hear, though, and in truth, they were not enough, because Hades knew that what was between them had gone beyond fate.

And even if their future were to unravel, he would fight for it.

Desperately.

She began to lower her eyes and shift from between him and the shelf, seeking an exit, but he clasped her jaw, forcing her to look at him once more.

When he had captured her attention, his fingers brushed along her cheek as he spoke, low and rough. “Do you know how I knew the Fates made you for me?”

She shook her head.

He leaned in, allowing his parted mouth to touch her skin. “I could taste it on your skin,” he said, and his lips followed the trail of his fingers—along her jaw, over her cheek. “And the only thing I regret is that I have lived so long without you.” His teeth grazed along the shell of her ear and down her neck, a light caress that had her breath seizing. Then he pulled away.

She wavered a moment, and a look of confusion crossed her face before her brows lowered. “What was that?” she demanded.

He smirked, chuckling at her anger, and answered, “Foreplay.”

And then he swept her over his shoulder and left the library.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, her hands pressed into his back as she tried to hold herself up.

“Proving that I want you,” he said.

Since his obviously erect cock wasn’t enough.

“Put me down, Hades!”

He grinned at her breathlessness, and his hand slipped up the back of her thigh and under her skirt, fingers finding her heated intimate flesh. Her moan ignited him, and he suddenly did not care to find a private place for what he intended to do to her. He shifted, bracing her against the wall just as her hands tangled into his hair and their mouths collided. He clasped her jaw, plying her mouth with his tongue while his other hand gripped her ass, grinding his hard and throbbing length into the soft cradle of her hips.

This was a need, he thought. A tonic that cured his frenzied mind.

“I will punish you until you scream,” he promised, feeling the truth of the words swell within his chest. “Until you come so hard around my cock, you are left in no doubt of my affection.”

He didn’t think it was possible to grow any harder, but then her magic surfaced, smelling warm and sweet. He could feel it on the tips of her fingers like lightning, calling to his—to the shadows and threads that moved beneath his skin—and it only added to his excitement, to the heady anticipation of feeling her around him, hot and pulsing and coming.

He drew back to meet her gaze, to gauge her readiness, and then she spoke. “Make good on your promises, Lord Hades.”

His lower stomach tightened, the head of his cock throbbed, and he was suddenly so fucking desperate for her flesh, he could wait no longer. He worked his hand between them, intent on freeing himself and taking her against the wall—until it collapsed, and he stumbled forward with Persephone in his arms, catching himself before they tumbled to the floor.

As he straightened, he lowered her to the ground but kept her pressed to him because they had an audience—a large one, in fact, made up of mostly his palace staff, in addition to Thanatos, Hecate, and Charon.

Thanatos looked in their direction and away, a slight tint to his pale cheeks. Charon’s dark eyes widened before he too averted his gaze, breaking into a wide smile. Hecate was the only one who stared openly, a brow raised, a tilt to her lips.

There was a part of him that acknowledged he should have been more mindful of where he chose to take Persephone, yet at the end of the day, the palace was his in its entirety.

He could fuck where he wanted.

Hades cleared his throat, and Persephone cast a glance behind her before pressing her forehead into his chest, and for a moment, he imagined he could feel the heat of her embarrassment through his shirt.

“Good evening,” he said. “The Lady Persephone and I are famished, and we wish to be alone.”

Her hands rested on his sides beneath his jacket until he spoke and she jabbed him in the ribs. He grunted, tightening his hold as his staff scrambled to clean up. They filed out of the hall, carrying platters of food, addressing them as they went, and with each “Good evening, my lord, my lady,” Persephone burrowed farther into his chest.

Hecate was the last to leave, and as she passed, she popped a grape into her mouth before closing the door behind her.

“Now,” he said, guiding her back until she came into contact with the table. “Where were we?”

“You cannot be serious.”

“As the dead,” he answered.

“The…dining room?”

He did not understand her hesitancy, not when they had done this before, but perhaps she had envisioned something far different when he had promised punishment.

“I’m quite hungry, aren’t you?”

He lifted her onto the table and took her mouth, tongue sliding out to caress her lips and then dipping to collide with her own. His hands slipped up her waist to her breasts. He wanted to touch her smooth skin but settled for teasing her nipples before taking each into his mouth through her dress.

Her legs tightened around him, heels digging into his ass, urging his hips forward. He indulged for a moment, surging forward to kiss her as he guided her to her back. Once she was settled, he straightened and took her in—a literal goddess, a queen in her own right, spread before him, golden hair spilling off the edges of the table. Her chest rose and fell, her eyes gleaming with a hunger he could feel in the pit of his stomach.