A Touch of Malice Page 3

  Persephone flipped through the pages. Each dress was heavily embellished with jewels or pearls and layers and layers of tulle. She might not have ever dreamed of her wedding, but she knew for certain these were not the dresses for her.

  “What do you think?”

  “They are beautiful sketches,” she said.

  “You don’t like them,” Yuri said instantly, frowning.

  “It’s not that…” Persephone said.

  “It’s that,” Hecate interjected.

  Persephone glared. “It’s just that…I think I want something a little more…simple.”

  “But…you are to be a queen,” Yuri argued.

  “But I am still Persephone,” she said. “And I’d like to be Persephone…for as long as I can.”

  Yuri opened her mouth to protest once more, but Hecate intervened. “I understand, my dear. Why don’t I take care of coordinating the gown? Besides, it’s not as though you won’t have another chance to wear a ballgown.”

  The Goddess of Witchcraft looked pointedly at Yuri.

  Persephone’s brows knitted together. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, my dear—this is just the first wedding. You’ll have a second, perhaps a third.”

  Persephone felt the color drain from her face. “A…third?”

  This was another thing she had yet to learn.

  Hecate explained. “One in the Underworld, one in the Upperworld, and one on Olympus.”

  “Why Olympus?”

  “It’s tradition.”

  “Tradition,” Persephone echoed. Just as it was tradition for Zeus to approve marriages—and now she wondered, if Zeus didn’t approve of their marriage, did that mean he did not approve of their relationship at all? Would he try to force them apart just as her mother had? She frowned. “I’m not so eager to follow tradition.”

  Hecate smiled. “Lucky for you, Hades isn’t either.”

  They stayed for a while longer, discussing flowers and location. Yuri favored gardenias and hydrangeas while Persephone preferred anemone and narcissus. Yuri favored the ballroom for the ceremony while Persephone favored one of the gardens—perhaps beneath the purple wisteria in Hades’s garden. By the end of it, Hecate was smiling.

  “What?” Persephone asked, curious as to why the Goddess of Magic seemed so amused.

  “Oh, nothing,” she said. “It’s just…despite stating otherwise, you seem to know exactly what you want out of this wedding.”

  Persephone smiled softly. “I just…picked things that reminded me of us.”

  After their meeting, Persephone retired to the baths where she soaked in the hot, lavender-infused water for close to an hour. She was exhausted. It was the kind of weariness that went bone deep, a result of her body fighting near-constant anxiety and crushing guilt. It did not help that she had awoken to nightmares of Pirithous. Even after she and Hades had returned from Tartarus, she’d been unable to sleep, lying wide awake beside the God of the Dead, reliving the torture she’d inflicted upon the demigod, wondering what her actions made her. Suddenly, her mother’s words came to mind.

  Daughter, even you cannot escape our corruption. It is what comes with power.

  Was she a monster? Or just another god?

  Persephone left the baths and returned to Hades’s—their, she reminded herself—bedchamber. She intended to change and dine with the souls while she waited to confront Hades about Zeus, but when she saw the bed, her body felt heavy and all she wanted to do was rest. She collapsed atop the silk sheets, comfortable, weightless, safe.

  When she opened her eyes, it was night. The room was full of firelight, and shadowy flames danced on the wall opposite her. She sat up and found Hades near the fireplace. He turned to face her, naked, his muscles haloed by flames—broad shoulders, flat abs, strong thighs. Her gaze trailed all parts of him—from his glittering eyes to his swollen cock. He was a work of art as much as he was a weapon.

  He sipped the whiskey in his glass.

  “You are awake,” he said softly, then downed what remained of his drink, leaving the glass on the table near the fireplace to come to bed. As he sat beside her, he cupped her face and kissed her. When he pulled away, his thumb brushed her lips.

  “How was your day?” he asked.

  She pulled at her lip with her teeth as she answered, “Hard.”

  He frowned.

  “Yours?” she asked.

  “The same,” he said, letting his hand fall from her face. “Lay with me.”

  “You don’t have to ask,” she whispered.

  He parted her robe, which had already fallen open, exposing one of her breasts to his hungry eyes. The silky fabric slid down her arms, puddling around her waist. Hades bent, taking her nipples into his mouth, tongue shifting between teasing laps and sharp sucking. Persephone’s fingers tangled into his hair, holding him in place as her head fell back, delighting in the feel of his mouth on her body. The longer he worked, the hotter she grew, and she found herself guiding one of Hades’s hands between her thighs, to her molten center where she desired most to be filled.

  He obliged, parting her slick flesh, and as he filled her, she blew out a breath that turned into a moan, which Hades captured as his mouth closed over hers. For a long moment, Persephone held Hades’s wrist as his fingers worked, curling deep, touching familiar parts of her, but then her hand shifted to his cock, and as her fingers met the softness of his shaft, he groaned, breaking their kiss and leaving her body.

  She growled, reaching for his hand again, but he just chuckled.

  “Do you not trust me to bring you pleasure?” he asked.

  “Eventually.”

  Hades narrowed his eyes. “Oh, darling. How you challenge me.”

  He shifted her body so that she was on her side, back to his chest. One of his arms cradled her neck while the other gripped her breasts, skimmed down her stomach to her thighs. He drew her legs apart, hooking one over his own, spreading her wide. His fingers circled her clit and threaded through her curls before dipping into her warmth again. She inhaled, arching against him, his hard cock grinding into her ass. Her head pressed into the crook of his shoulder, her legs opening wider, coaxing him deeper—and Hades’s mouth descended on hers, savage in his wish to claim.

  Her breath quickened, and her heels slipped on the bedding, unable to ground. She felt euphoric and alive, and she wanted more even as the first vibrating orgasm wrecked her body.

  “Is this pleasure?” he asked.

  She did not have time to answer. Even if he’d given her time, she did not think she had the ability to summon words between heavy breaths as the head of Hades’s cock nestled against her entrance. She inhaled as he eased inside her, back arching, shoulders digging into his chest. When he was fully sheathed, his mouth touched her shoulder, teeth grazing skin, hand continuing to tease her clit until she moaned. It was a sound he had summoned from somewhere deep inside her.

  “Is this pleasure?” he asked again as he moved, setting a slow rhythm that made her aware of everything—each increment of his cock as it reached deep, the slamming of his balls against her ass, the way each thrust stole the breath from her lungs.

  “Is this pleasure?” he asked again.

  She turned her head toward his, gripping the back of his neck. “It is ecstasy.”

  Their lips collided in a vicious kiss and there was no more talking, just gasps, desperate moans, and the slamming of bodies. The heat grew between them, until Persephone could feel the perspiration from their bodies mixing. Hades’s pace quickened; one hand kept her leg curled around his own, and the other was at her throat, holding her jaw between his fingers with the lightest pressure—and he held her like that until they came.

  Hades’s head fell into the crook of her neck where he pressed kisses to her skin.

  “Are you well?” he asked.


  “Yes,” she whispered.

  She was more than well. Sex with Hades always went beyond her expectations, and every time she thought they’d reached their peak—nothing can get better than this—she was proven wrong. This instance had been no different, and she found herself wondering just how much experience the God of the Dead had—and why was he holding out?

  Hades withdrew, and Persephone rolled to face him, studied his face, glistening after their lovemaking. He looked sleepy and content.

  “Has Zeus approved of our marriage?”

  Hades stilled, as if his heart had stopped beating and he had ceased breathing. She wasn’t sure what he was reacting to—perhaps he realized he’d forgotten to talk to her about this, or he realized he’d been caught. After a moment, he relaxed, but a strange tension settled between them. It wasn’t angry, but it wasn’t the elation they usually reveled in after sex.

  “He is aware of our engagement,” he said.

  “That is not what I asked.”

  She knew him well enough now—Hades never said or offered more than was needed. He stared at her for a moment before answering, “He will not deny me.”

  “But he has not given you his blessing?”

  She wanted him to say it, though she already knew the answer.

  “No.”

  It was her turn to stare. Still, Hades remained silent.

  “When were you going to tell me?” Persephone asked.

  “I don’t know.” He paused and to her surprise added, “When I had no other choice.”

  “That is more than obvious.” She glared.

  “I was hoping to avoid it altogether,” he said.

  “Telling me?”

  “No, Zeus’s approval,” Hades said. “He makes a spectacle of it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He will summon us to Olympus for an engagement feast and festivities, and he will drag out his decision for days. I have no desire to be in attendance and no desire to have you suffer through it.”

  “And when will he do this?” Her voice was a breathless whisper.

  “In a few weeks, I imagine,” he said.

  She stared at the ceiling, the colors swirling together as her vision clouded with tears. She wasn’t sure why this made her so emotional. Maybe it was because she was afraid, or maybe because she was tired.

  “Why wouldn’t you tell me? If there is a chance we cannot be together, I have the right to know.”

  “Persephone,” Hades whispered, rising to his elbow. He loomed over her, brushing at her tears. “No one will keep us apart—not the Fates, not your mother, and not Zeus.”

  “You are so certain, but even you will not challenge the Fates.”

  “Oh, darling, but I have told you before—for you, I would destroy this world.”

  She swallowed, watching him. “Perhaps that is what I fear the most.”

  He studied her a moment longer, thumb brushing her cheek before his lips touched hers, then kissed down her body, drinking deep between her thighs, and when he rose again, there were no other names upon her lips but Hades.

  * * *

  Later she woke again to find Hades returning to their room, fully dressed.

  Her brows knitted together as she rose into a sitting position, eyes still heavy with sleep.

  “What’s wrong?”

  The god grimaced, his gaze hard and a little unkind as he answered, “Adonis is dead. He’s been murdered.”

  She blinked as a wave of shock shivered though her.

  Persephone did not like Adonis. He had stolen her work and published it without her permission, he’d touched her even after she’d said no, and he’d threatened to expose her relationship with Hades if she didn’t get him rehired at New Athens News. He deserved a lot, but he hadn’t deserved to be murdered.

  Hades crossed the room, returning to the bar where he poured himself a drink.

  “Adonis. Murdered? How?”

  “Horribly,” Hades replied. “He was found in the alleyway outside La Rose.”

  It took Persephone a moment to think, her mind not quite able to catch up with the news. The last time she’d seen Adonis was in the Garden of the Gods. She’d turned his arms into literal, wooden limbs, and he’d groveled at her feet, begging to be returned to normal. She’d done so under the condition that if he touched another woman without consent, he would spend the rest of his days as a corpse flower.

  She hadn’t seen him since.

  “Has he made it here…to the Underworld?”

  “He has,” Hades replied as he downed a glass of whiskey and poured another.

  “Can you ask him what happened?”

  “No. He…is in Elysium.”

  Which told Persephone that his death had to have been traumatic to warrant placement upon the healing fields.

  Persephone watched as Hades threw back another drink. He only drank like this when he was anxious, and what worried her most was how upset he seemed about the death of a man he’d once called a parasite.

  Whatever he’d seen had disturbed him.

  “Do you think he was killed because of Aphrodite’s favor?” Persephone asked.

  It wasn’t uncommon. Over the years, many mortals had been killed for that very reason, and Adonis was someone who flaunted his association with the Goddess of Love.

  “It’s likely,” he said. “Whether it was because of jealousy or a hatred for the gods, I cannot say.”

  Dread pooled in her stomach.

  “Are you suggesting he was killed by someone who had a vendetta against Aphrodite?”

  “I think he was killed by several people,” Hades said. “And that they hate all the Divine.”

  Chapter III

  Aggression

  Hades’s words were still on her mind when she headed to work at the Coffee House the next morning. She hadn’t been able to pry any more information out of him regarding Adonis’s death. He’d only added that he believed the murder had been planned and executed with intention, a fact that made Persephone fear there would be more assaults.

  Despite his brutal death, there was no mention of it in any newspaper. She imagined that was due to Hades’s involvement in the investigation, but that also made her think he’d seen something he didn’t want the public—or her—knowing.

  She frowned. She knew Hades was trying to protect her, but if people were attacking favored mortals—or anyone associated with the gods—she needed to know. While the world at large did not know she was a goddess, her association with Hades made her and her friends potential targets too.

  Persephone chose a shadowed corner in the coffee shop to set up and wait for Helen and Leuce. Since launching her own online community and blog, The Advocate, a few weeks ago, the three met weekly, and because they had no office, they chose various locations across New Athens—the Coffee House being one of their preferred haunts. The two were running behind, probably due to the weather, as New Athens was experiencing a cold front.

  That was probably an understatement.

  It was freezing and snow had been falling from the dreary sky off and on for almost a week. At first, it melted as soon as it touched the ground, but today it had begun to stick to the roads and sidewalks. Meteorologists were calling it the storm of the century. It was the only story in the news that rivaled Persephone and Hades’s engagement announcement. Today, she found that they shared space on the front page of every news outlet—from New Athens News to the Delphi Divine, their headlines warred:

  God of the Dead to Wed Mortal Journalist

  and

  Winter Storm Steals Summer Sun

  A third headline caused knots to form in Persephone’s stomach. It was an opinion column in the Grecian Times—a national newspaper and a rival of New Athens News.

  Winter Weather Is Divine Punishment
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  It was clear that the author of the article was not a fan of the gods, probably an Impious. It began:

  In a world ruled by gods, nothing is chance. The question remains—whose wrath are we facing and what is the cause? Another mortal who claimed to be more beautiful than any of the Divine? Or one who dared rebuke their advances?

  It was neither. It was a real-life battle between Hades, Persephone, and her mother, Demeter, the Goddess of Harvest.

  Persephone was not surprised that it had come to this. Demeter had done everything in her power to keep Persephone and Hades apart, and it had started from her birth. Locked away in a glass greenhouse, Demeter had fed her lies about the gods and their motives, in particular Hades, who she detested merely for the fact that the Fates had woven their threads together. When Persephone thought of how she used to be under her mother’s strict rule, she felt sick—blind, self-righteous, wrong. She hadn’t been a daughter at all but a prisoner, and in the end, it was all for nothing, because when Persephone met Hades, all bets were off and the only bargain that mattered was the one she was willing to make with her heart.

  “Your latte, Persephone,” Ariana, one of the baristas, said as she approached. Persephone had come to know almost everyone in the Coffee House, both due to her celebrity and her frequent visits.

  “Thank you, Ariana.”

  The barista attended the College of Hygieia and was studying epidemiology. It was a challenging channel of study considering some diseases were god-made and only curable if they deemed them to be.

  “I just wanted to say congratulations on your engagement to Lord Hades. You must be so excited.”

  Persephone smiled. It was a little hard for her to accept well wishes with Demeter’s storm worsening outside. She couldn’t help thinking that if mortals knew the reason for the sudden change in weather, they would not be so happy about their marriage. Still, she managed to respond. “I am, thank you.”

  “Have you chosen a date?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “Do you think you’ll be married here? I mean, in the Upperworld?”

  Persephone took a deep breath. She didn’t mean to be so frustrated by the woman’s questions. She knew they stemmed from her excitement—and yet they only served to make her anxious.