A Touch of Malice (Hades x Persephone #3)(59)

She swallowed.

“Hades, play with us!” they cried.

“I’m afraid I have made a promise to Lady Persephone I must keep,” he said. “But I will make a promise to you now—Lady Persephone and I will return to play as soon as possible.”

He leveled his gaze with hers, and it was clear he was still intent upon his goal.

“We shall visit soon!” Persephone promised and vanished. Hades followed—she could feel his magic twining with hers, and when they appeared, it was in the Asphodel Fields.

He kissed her, and for a brief moment, Persephone forgot that they were in the middle of a chase. It was rough and his tongue clashed with hers. He drank deep, as if he wished to consume her essence. Her fingers dug into his muscled arms as she held on, drowning in his power.

She managed to come to her senses and pull away. Hades looked surprised, and his eyes darkened. He gripped the front of her dress and drug her against him, tearing the fabric in two so that it exposed her breasts. He took each one in his hand and covered them with his mouth, working her nipples with his hot tongue until they were taunt. Then he kissed up her neck, his hands replacing his tongue as they pinched each tight bead.

Persephone’s head fell back as she gasped, and Hades growled low in his throat. “Surrender.”

Her head spun, surrounded by his scent. He had pulled away enough so she could see his face and as she met his gaze, she answered. “No.”

It was one of the most difficult things she’d ever done in her life.

Then she vanished.

This time, she appeared in Hades’ cavernous throne room. Despite having multiple windows, much of the room was left in darkness. She ascended to the throne and took a seat. The obsidian was slick and cold against her arms and back, and despite the fact that her dress was torn, she sat with her back straight, breasts exposed.

If Hades thought this was his win, he was mistaken.

When he materialized and saw her upon his throne, his eyes seemed to darken, and his lips curved into a seductive smile. He was ravenous, and his desire permeated the air. It smelled like spice and smoke and she leaned toward him, wanting to taste it.

“My queen,” he said, and started toward her.

“Halt!” she commanded. To her surprise, Hades immediately obeyed, though it was clear he hadn’t wanted to—his hands fisted, and his jaw tightened, his shoulders tense. Before he could protest, though, she gave another command. “Undress.”

He watched her a moment, and his lips curled. “For someone who doesn't like titles, you sure are commanding.”

She glared at him. “Must I repeat myself?”

Now Hades was smiling. He lifted his hand, and Persephone stopped him.

“Not with magic. The mortal way. Slowly.”

“As you wish,” he said.

Hades took his time unbuttoning his shirt and pants. He removed his shirt first, showing off his burnished skin and the muscles of his arms and stomach. Next, he slid out of his pants, revealing his thick and heavy erection.

By the time he was finished and stood naked before her, she sat on the edge of his throne, her hands gripping the arms. She considered reaching for him, wrapping her fingers around his cock, but refrained.

“And your hair,” she said. “Take it down.”

He reached up, massive muscles flexing, as he untied his usually slick-backed hair. The long, dark locks fell around his shoulders in waves making him look feral and untamed. It thrilled her.

But there was one more thing she wanted.

“Drop your glamour,” she said.

The corners of his mouth lifted. “I will if you will.”

She stared at him for a moment then released her hold on her magic. It was like letting a heavy cloak drop from about her or shedding skin that had become taunt and vaguely uncomfortable. Hades’ eyes swept her whole body—from her slender, white horns that twisted out from a head of unruly, golden hair to her bare feet, dirty from running through the garden and Asphodel. It shouldn’t feel so intimate because the way he looked at her was familiar, but when his dark eyes met hers, she felt like she might implode from the intensity.

He dropped his glamour next. Persephone loved watching Hades transform. His magic evaporated like smoke, peeling from his body to reveal the ancient god beneath. Hades wasn’t often in his Divine form, which was strange considering he encouraged Persephone to remain in hers. His horns were black, lethal, and yet, graceful, having the same slender curves as a gazelle’s. The dark of his eyes burned away to reveal electric blue irises.

She stood then, studying him as intently as he was her, and approached.

“Don’t move,” she whispered.

She thought she heard him groan, but she couldn’t be sure.

She placed her palm on his chest. His body was an inferno beneath her hand, as hot as the River Phlegethon. His skin was smooth and his muscles hard. She explored him—his abs and his sides, moving lower until her hand came into contact with his erection. When her fingers closed around him, Hades inhaled, his hands fisting so tight, she was sure he had pierced flesh.

She looked up at him, stroking him until a thick bead of come glistened at the tip of his cock. She removed it with her finger and brought it into her mouth. Hades watched like a predator. She was pushing his limits, but that’s what she wanted.

She returned to his throne, never taking her eyes off of him, the taste of him upon her lips, and said, “Come.”