Hot as Hades Page 2

“Wait,” she said weakly.

  He circled the opening of that pussy, wanting in again. “What?”

  Her throat worked as she swallowed. “Stop. I’ll…I’ll tell you.”

  Tell him what? Oh. Goddamn it. He’d forgotten why he’d originally started teasing her. He removed his hand from her body with the greatest of reluctance, wanting to bring his hand up to his nose to inhale her scent. Better yet, he wanted to wallow inside of her until it covered him completely. The rest of her body had already dried from what he assumed was her alleged bath, but her nipples were still wet from his mouth. He wanted to suck those morsels in, nibble on them until she wouldn’t know what life was without him at her breast. He wanted…

  He shook his head, struck by a pang of self-protection, admittedly too late. He’d only meant to kiss her, maybe tease her a little. How had he forgotten himself when dealing with another god? He knew better than anyone that they excelled at games of lust and trickery.

  He cleared his throat gruffly. Best to play this off as if he’d been in control the whole time. “Good.”

  “I’m…Persephone.”

  The name meant nothing to him. “Go on.”

  The beauty sighed. “Persephone, daughter of Demeter.”

  Shit. A shock of distaste and outrage cooled his arousal, and he abruptly stood, which pushed her off his lap. Since the ground was hard stone, he materialized a lush pillow to cushion her ass. She gave a soft little huff of air as she landed.

  “Daughter of Demeter? Hell, why didn’t you say that before you snuggled into my lap, all sweet and luscious?” He wanted to hit something. He, who knew better than anyone that life was absolutely, motherfucking unfair, wanted to strangle someone.

  This was not. Fucking. Fair. How could he have been so wrong?

  Persephone stared up at the towering giant who stood above her. His thighs looked like tree trunks under his black leather pants. The bulge of his penis was prominent, despite the fact that he was looking at her with dismay instead of lust now. He would have been intimidating even if she wasn’t sprawled naked at his feet. Even if she wasn’t struggling with a never-before-experienced combination of fear and arousal.

  She shivered, hating the weakness that led to the involuntary physical reaction. She couldn’t even blame it on a draft. Though she was naked and the huge room appeared cold with its black granite walls and black marble floor, it was actually surprisingly warm. There was no sunlight or obvious source of heat, but flickering torches hung on the wall gave off warmth and light. Larger lamps stood near the huge red and black throne she had landed in, gilding every inch of Hades.

  And there were a lot of inches. Despite her isolation from the rest of Olympus, she’d heard rumblings about Hades, as she had about Zeus and Poseidon, the three big honchos. Her adoptive mother, Demeter, was closemouthed about other deities, but Persephone had friends amongst the water nymphs. The only thing the nymphos—their term, not hers—liked as much as sex was gossip. So of course she’d heard whispered rumblings about the uber scary, merciless, pitiless, torture-and-pain-happy Lord of the Underworld.

  Some of the older nymphs had also whispered that he was a god in appearance too, but she’d discounted those as romanticized fantasies. No more. The male was devastatingly attractive, like no one she’d ever seen, either in her humble youth with mortals, her brief time amongst the foppish court at Olympus, or her return to Earth to live with Demeter. Blue-black hair was cropped close to his skull, and his face was hard and defined, with a square jaw and high cheekbones. Gold glinted in the simple armbands around his massive biceps. He was shirtless, which allowed her to see his ripped chest and abdomen. A tattoo highlighted those muscles, an intricate design of a red and black serpent. The snake’s tongue flicked his nipple, its sinuous body draped across his chest, presumably wound around his back, and then came back around his hip to disappear into his pants.

  She tried not to think of where the tail of that snake ended.

  Hades’s eyes were his most fascinating feature, black and endless, and glowing from within with a red fire. The memory of those burning eyes flicking up to her face when his surprisingly gentle lips had been wrapped around her nipple would be hard to scrub from her mind.

  Now they were filled with cold fury. And why not? Her mother’s name alone was generally enough to rile and inspire the wrath of any god, which was why Persephone had hoped to keep mum and get herself out of here before Hades discovered her identity. How Demeter managed to piss off every deity she came into contact with, save Persephone, she would never know. Brazen it out, girl. “I take it you have some sort of beef with Demeter?”

  “Your mommy always was a self-righteous, selfish little bitch, chick.”

  Caution told her to curb her tongue, but she couldn’t stop the small burst of anger. Whatever her faults, Demeter had done her best to be a mentor and protector to a lost, clueless goddess. “Watch how you speak of my mother, dark one.”

  “I’ll call my sister whatever names I like, Sephie.”

  “The name is Persephone and… What? Wait. Sister?”

  He sneered. “Whiny, bitchy Demeter is my little sister. Surely you knew that, if you’re her daughter.”

  “I…I’m sorry. I’ve never really paid attention to all the relationships.” And interrelationships. After millennia, blood relations seemed to matter less and less, she supposed. The gods married and mated with little concern for something that troubled mortals to no end.

  He was shaking his head, disgust curling his lips as he repeatedly wiped his hand—the hand he’d had inside of her—on the front of his thighs. “I can’t believe I… Why the hell didn’t you say something sooner?” He swallowed. “Seriously, put some clothes on.”

  “I’d love to, but my luggage seems to have been lost.” Dumbass, she added silently.

  “You’re adorable. Conjure the clothes.”

  A blush rose in her cheeks. Did he think she liked sitting here nude? “I can’t.”

  “You can’t now or you can’t ever?”

  “Can’t…ever.” Persephone raised her chin, unhappy in admitting to something that was probably possible for godlings. Maybe he would let this proof of her shameful lack of abilities pass without comment.

  “Stop fooling around and get dressed.”

  No, he wouldn’t let it pass. “I told you, I can’t.” Pretty and stupid, she tsked. They always went hand in hand, it seemed. Though Hades didn’t seem quite as idiotic as Narcissus. That moron regularly had to be rescued from lakes when he tried to make out with his own reflection.

  Hades studied her with his brow knit, though this time he kept his gaze on her face. “You’re serious. You really can’t.” Within a blink she was clothed in a flowing red gown of velvet trimmed with black lace. It was the most decadent thing she’d ever worn. She only realized that he’d freed her bound wrists when she ran her hand along the drape of fabric over her leg.

  His groan made her glance up, and she flushed again to see him watching her hand coast along her leg. Their eyes met, and the self-disgust in his was readily apparent. “You should have said something sooner. I may be many things, but a molester of my niece is not one of them. I don’t know how I could have been so wrong.”

  She blinked up at him. He wasn’t upset because he hated Demeter so much. He was upset that he’d touched…his niece…with lust.

  His niece, because she was Demeter’s daughter. Well then. She glanced away, unclear on how to use this development to her advantage.

  Something must have given her away; she’d always been a crappy liar. Suddenly he was crouched next to her, his hand on her chin, giving her no choice but to turn her head to him. He stared deep into her eyes before a smile broke out on that stunning face. “Liar.”

  She played dumb. “Huh?”

  “I should have known—after all, I’m never wrong,” he arrogantly stated. “You aren’t of my blood.” He gave her chin a little shake, which made her instinctively snap at his fingers with
her teeth. He only laughed. “You’re no more Demeter’s daughter than I am.”

  She pulled away from him, scooting out of his reach—it annoyed her further that she wouldn’t have been able to had he not allowed it. “You can’t tell that by looking at me.”

  “Actually, I can. One of my dubious powers—to see what flows through others. Comes in handy when I have to deal with as many souls as I do. You aren’t of my bloodline, which means you weren’t born to any of my siblings. So tell me the truth now, Sephie…if that’s even your real name.”

  “It is. I… Can you see who my parents really are?” she asked, distracted for a moment.

  “No. Sorry.” He cocked his head. “You’re…foreign. Not quite like anyone I’ve looked into before.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t know if she absolutely believed him or not. Gods were notorious liars, after all.

  “The truth. Now.” His tone was hard and brooked no disobedience.

  Sadly, as much as she wanted to tell him to go to hell, one thing was true. She was already there—and he owned it. “Demeter is my mother. She adopted me and cared for me after I finally came to Olympus.” Demeter had approached her at first because their powers were similar, and had ended up becoming a friend, mentor and a maternal figure, protecting her from the cattiness and advances of the other gods on Olympus. She’d also given Persephone whatever love and tenderness she was capable of. No, Demeter had her faults, no doubt, but Persephone would have probably withered away long ago without her.

  “Adopted,” he purred. “Well now, bit. That’s music to my ears.” A finger stroked along her cheek, awakening all sorts of nerve endings.

  What was wrong with her? Usually she was quite immune to the unearthly beauty of immortals. When she’d first come to Olympus, she’d realized quickly that she was the equivalent of the new girl at school, which meant that every god wanted to fuck her, while every goddess wanted to rip her hair out by the roots and set her on fire. Demeter, who had already taken her under her wing, conferred with Zeus, and before she could say “Apollo, you ignorant slut,” she’d been spirited out of Olympus back to Earth.

  End result: except for some fumbled flirting and sex with mortals, and again in the beginning of her foray into the world of the gods, it had been a long, dry, isolated spell for her. And it wasn’t like any of those spoiled, pampered Olympians had even a hint of the raw sex appeal of Hades.

  Hades, Lord of the Underworld, you fool. Slap a virtual chastity belt on, and pull yourself together. Bad boys were bad for a reason, and she had zero experience in dealing with them. It wouldn’t do to start with the ultimate bad boy. She shouldn’t be here, didn’t belong here. She belonged back home, in her safe and protected bubble, surrounded by meadows and rivers and babbling brooks. “Our lack of blood relation changes nothing.”

  He didn’t appear to be listening, so transfixed was he with tracing his finger over the bodice of the dress, following the lace trim. It scratched her skin, making her want to rip the dress off and throw herself at him. She wanted to tell herself it was the fact that she’d been without for so long, but she’d never had such an instantaneous response to anyone, ever, god or mortal.

  Fear trumped the arousal.

  Since she couldn’t fight with her fists, she would do what she’d always done and rely on her words. “Do you need me to write it out? My body might respond, but I’m not about to get horizontal with the Lord of the Underworld. Have sex with me if you want, but know that it would be rape.”

  She expected him to bear her back onto the ground and ravish her—and, no, her thighs had not clenched in invitation at that thought—or maybe even manhandle her into a cell somewhere. She didn’t truly believe anymore that he had brought her here, as his anger and demands to know her identity were extremely genuine. Since he thought she was the intruder, nobody would interfere with any punishment he extracted from her. She’d heard enough stories about Hades’s almost obsessive territoriality about his world. No one who entered left it. Or at least, no one left it unscathed.

  But he did none of those things. A chill descended over his face, turning those hot eyes to ice. His tone was similarly cold. “I don’t rape.”

  Don’t you dare feel bad. “Then send me back to my home.” Though pleading went against her nature, she swallowed her pride. “Please. I swear, I didn’t bring myself here. I really did just step out of my bath and into your…” She gestured to encompass the palace.

  He leaned back on his haunches and studied her closely. “You honestly didn’t know how to escape the bonds I put on you. Or how to conjure clothes.”

  Though he didn’t seem to be waiting for a response, she shook her head.

  “And you can’t send yourself back?”

  More pride swallowing. “If you can’t tell yet, I wouldn’t have the foggiest notion of how to transport myself anywhere in my own world, let alone across worlds.”

  He gave a short laugh, and she thought she heard him mutter to himself, “She has no idea.” Hades raised his voice. “Very well.”

  She scrambled to her feet, and he rose as well, more slowly. “What?” Had she misheard? That had been too easy.

  His eyes narrowed. “Did you think me so lacking in decency that I would imprison you when you didn’t knowingly invade my domain? No, wait. Don’t answer that. It’s clear what you think. Go home, Persephone, daughter of Demeter. Make sure you tell your mama and the other ass-lickers up on your mountain how awful and evil Uncle Hades was, ’kay?”

  Damn it. The pinch of guilt was stronger now, and she opened her mouth to recall her words. “I—”

  He cut her off, raising his hand in a short, sharp gesture. Unable to help her body’s response, she flinched.

  “If I wanted to hit you, I would have already,” he growled. “Now, begone, female.”

  Sad, she thought, as she prepared herself for that dizzying rush of energy, that the last image she would retain of him was such a frightening one, with his face tightened in fury.

  But her meadow didn’t suddenly rise up to embrace her, nor did she see the beautiful architecture and people of Olympus.

  His anger dissipated into confusion. “Why are you still here?”

  She shook her head, off balance from the slew of emotions running through her. “I don’t know.”

  He raised his hand again, but she remained in front of him. “What the fuck?” He tipped his head back and roared, “Cerberus!”

  “You rang, master?”

  Hades moved aside, and Persephone gasped. Behind him stood a dog. A dog with three heads instead of one. This was the famed Cerberus, the most fearsome companion to Hades. He was huge, his body easily coming to her chest and covered in sleek midnight-black fur. Only the center head matched the body. The one on the right was a pure white, while the one on the left was tawny yellow. Their eyes were identical, fierce and black, and they glowed with the same red fire as Hades’s gaze. Most pertinent to her state of mind, they all had really sharp, shiny teeth. The better to eat me with.

  Hades pointed to her. “Why is she here?”

  All three heads cocked. The middle head, whom she assumed was the mouthpiece of the group, spoke. “I am not sure, sire. I saw the ripple when this intruder breached our world. I assumed, since she entered your throne room, you summoned her.”

  “I bloody hell did not summon her. I didn’t summon her, and now I can’t send her back. Why the fuck is that?”

  “I am unsure, sire. Everything is functioning fine in the rest of the realm. Souls are still coming in. Try again.”

  They both looked at her, and she prepared for the mind-jarring, nauseating rush of energy she’d experienced when she’d been sucked down here after stepping out of her bath.

  Nope. Nada.

  A deep growl of anger resonated from Hades’s chest, turning gradually into a full-fledged roar, startling her. “Someone’s blocking me. Who the fuck would dare to interfere with my world?”

  Not her, she thought private
ly when he turned those endless eyes on her. Geez, when they called Hades territorial, they weren’t kidding. He was filled with rage at the idea of someone interfering with his dominion.

  “Cerberus, find her a room.” He turned on his heel and walked away, his broad back and tight buttocks flexing. Not that she noticed. Much.

  She frowned. Wait a minute. “Hey. What am I supposed to do now?”

  He glanced over his shoulder at her. “I can give you hundreds of suggestions, bit, but they’d all involve me deep inside of you in one way or another.”

  Sounds goo…bad. Very, very bad. “I’m serious.”

  “As am I. No? Fine, then, you can do what females do best…twiddle your thumbs while I handle the problem.”

  That arrogant horse’s ass. She watched him leave, wishing she had the courage to say it out loud, but she wasn’t about to pit herself against the Lord of the Underworld any more than she already had. She couldn’t help herself from sticking out her tongue at his cursed, sexy back though.

  Which she promptly pulled back in, shocked, when she felt the phantom brush of an invisible tongue against it. His laughter echoed down the hall back to her.

  Chapter Two

  Persephone didn’t know what she should gape at first, her once-in-a-lifetime chance to see the palace of the Lord of the Underworld or the three-headed dog leading her through the maze of stairs and hallways.

  “Do you like to throw balls?”

  She blinked at the tawny head, the first words the creature had spoken directly to her. “I beg your pardon?”

  It turned to her. The other two heads stared grimly ahead, though she thought she saw the white one roll its eyes.

  “Throwing? Not just balls. Sticks will do too. I do. Well, I like to catch stuff. I can’t throw much because I have no opposable thumbs, but I do so love to catch things that other people, that is, the master, will throw. Sometimes he throws fireballs, and then we get to catch them, though they make my breath smell after, the master says—”

  “Silence,” the middle head growled.