A Touch of Malice (Hades x Persephone #3)(27)

He turned and looked at her, then shifted completely, his naked body stretching until his mouth lined up with hers, but instead of kissing her, he brushed his thumb tenderly over her cheek.

“I am well,” he said and straightened. “Sleep. I will be here when you wake.”

But those words did not bring her comfort, and instead of listening, she sat up and rolled onto her knees.

“What if I don’t want to sleep?”

She straddled him, her arms going around his neck while his hands settled on her waist.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “You did not kiss me earlier and you will not lay with me now.”

She felt his hands flex against her sides.

“I cannot sleep,” he said. “Because I cannot stop my mind.”

“I can help you,” she whispered.

He smiled a little, but it was sad and when he said nothing more, she spoke.

“And…why won’t you kiss me.”

“Because there is rage inside my body and to indulge in you…well, I am not certain what kind of release I would find.”

“Are you angry with me?” She asked, her fingers twining into his hair.

“No, but I am afraid that I have agreed to something that will only hurt you and already I cannot forgive myself.”

“Hades,” she whispered his name, his fears hurt her heart. She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t just his decision, it had been hers, too, but she knew she could not give him comfort. This was a god who had lived for centuries, a god who knew the world unlike she did, a god who had reason to believe as he did, and she could not argue with that.

She leaned closer; her breath caressed his lips. The tension between their bodies was electric.

“Indulge in me,” she whispered. “I can handle you.”

He crushed her to him, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, kissing her until she couldn’t breathe, until her eyes watered and her chest hurt and just when she thought she couldn’t handle it anymore, he broke from her.

As she drew in ragged breaths, his hands skimmed under her night shirt, guiding the fabric over her head. When she was naked, his hands pressed into every part of her—her back and breasts and ass and he kissed her mouth and sucked her neck and nipples. The sweet sensation and biting pleasure had her dragging her nails down his back, and then he entered her—slipping one finger inside then the other—working her so fast and so hard she didn’t recognize the sounds coming out of her mouth.

“Please,” she chanted. “Please, please, please.”

“Please what?” he asked.

Her answer was guttural cry of release. She wasn’t recovered when he deposited her on the bed and her legs were so numb, they hung open, ready for him. Hades sat back on his heels before her, stroking himself.

“Can you handle me?” He asked.

“Yes,” she breathed. In the next second he grasped her ass, tilted her hips, and slammed into her, moving at a pace that spoke of his desperation to come. Once again, his hands were everywhere—gripping her thighs, kneading her breasts—now and then he bent to taste her tongue or lick the sweat from her skin and when they came, Persephone was sure everyone in the Underworld heard their cries of ecstasy.

Hades collapsed upon her, ragged and wet and heavy.

Persephone wrapped her legs around him and her hands moved to his hair, smoothing it from his face. When she caught her breath, she spoke, her throat ached from the cries Hades had torn from her throat.

“You’re mine. Of course, I can handle you.”

It was what she’d wanted to say earlier, when he’d asked, but she hadn’t had enough air to do so. Hades pulled away to look at her, his gaze penetrated her, straight to the soul.

This, she thought, was the most vulnerable they’d ever been with one another.

“I never thought I’d thank the Fates for anything they gave me, but you—you were worth all of it.”

“All of what?”

“The suffering.”



CHAPTER VIII – A CONCESSION


Persephone woke in a panic.

It wasn’t spurred by a dream, but by the feeling that she had overslept. She shot up from bed, her gaze falling to Hades who stood before the fireplace. After the intensity with which he’d made love to her last night, she had expected him to be asleep beside her. Finding him awake and fully dressed made her chest feel a little hallow.

Still, he was beautiful and there was something different in his expression, a vulnerability that came with the words he’d spoken last night.

He was afraid.

And he had every right to be because someone out there had incapacitated a god.

She knew that fear was not for himself, though—it was for her and all she could think was that perhaps if she were stronger—if she could call upon her power like Hades, he wouldn’t have to worry.

“Did you sleep at all?” she asked.

“No.”

She frowned. She had not heard him stir. Had he risen shortly after she had fallen asleep?

“Nightmare?” he asked.

“No. I…thought I overslept.”

“Hmm.”

He threw back his drink, and set it aside, approaching her. She craned her neck, holding his gaze, as he brushed her cheek with his fingers.