My Lord Hades

  Will their love withstand the storms of winter?

  In a world where Gods rule and Daemons are feared, Hades, the most notorious Phlegethon

  daemon-god to roam the ancient world, is released from his prison in Tartarus by the Olympian Zeus to aid in the war against the Titans.

  Past shrouded in darkness, Persephone, daughter of the earth goddess Demeter, heals from the ordeal that stole her memories and the magic that is an integral part of who she once was. When she meets a stranger in the woods, her life is forever changed.

  Betrayed by the Gods he once served, battle-weary Hades promised to never allow another god power over him, but he didn't plan on the intervention of the Fates intertwining his future with the stunning woman dancing in the moonlight, or the rise of his Phlegethon nature that demands he claim her as his own. Persephone has become the siren calling him, promising the completion of heart and soul, but only a fool accepts the gifts of a siren, or fight against the will of the Fates.

  MY LORD HADES

  Children of Khaos Series

  Stephannie Beman

  http://stephanniebeman.com

  Smashwords Edition

  Warning!

  This book contains graphic language, sexually explicit scenes, and violence. It is intended for the enjoyment of adult readers. Please keep out of the hands of children. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either used fictitiously or the product of the author’s imagination. Except for review purposes, no part of this book may be reproduced in whole or part, without written permission of the author.

  Cover by: Stephannie Beman

  Cover photo courtesy of dreamstime.com, Francesco Cura of Curaphotography

  Ruis Publishing

  My Lord Hades © 2010 Stephannie Beman

  Dedicated to my husband Don,

  My own personal cheerleader, for believing in me and loving me despite all my many writing moods.

  May our love be eternal.

  And to my best friend Ruth Ann Nordin,

  Whose invaluable writing wisdom and encouragement made this book possible.

  Thank you.

  Note to Readers

  Every effort has been made to cleanly edit the text. However, typos do happen. If you find any errors, please email stephanniebeman@aol.com so I can continue to provide better books.

  Chapter 1

  “HADES,” HER soft voice whispered across his senses, a sudden and sharp relief to the

  screams whirling around him. “I know you can hear me, Hades. Wake up.”

  He groaned, shifting his tired muscles. The effort to move taxed him, but the thought of

  seeing her again, even for a moment bolstered his failing strength.

  Jagged stones and shards of broken pottery sliced the soles of his tattered feet as he placed his weight upon them and straightened. The chains above his head rattled and the pressure on his suspended arms lessened. Needles tingled beneath the surface of his numb limbs.

  Peering through the greasy black strands of his long hair, he stared at the renewed torment that would be his. The pale cast upon her lovely features tore at his soul. She was dead, a mere shade of the woman he had known.

  She stood before him, stunning and child-like, highlighted by the faintest glow in the cold, windowless cell of his prison. Her black hair was a tangled mess and her skin marked by bruises and smudges of dirt. Her white dress hung in soiled tatters from her willowy frame, revealing the fullness of her rose-tipped breast, the curve of her hip, and the length of her thigh. It was a peek and tease that held no desire for him.

  But Coronus couldn’t have know that when he sent her in to Hades. Leuce was here to break his will, his soul. She was here to destroy him.

  “Go away, phantom,” he rasped.

  “Look at me, Hades,” she snapped. “See what your pride has done to me!”

  He winced, fighting the urge to play Coronus’ game. She might look like his Leuce, but it wasn’t Leuce. This was his enemy, his tormentor, his unwelcome king. This was Coronus and he had to be careful, because if Coronus realized how her presence affected him, she would be trapped in this cesspool of misery, her voice joining the masses inside his cell. He could survive anything they threw his way, but not that, not her.

  She stamped her foot. “Look at me, damn you!”

  He lifted his head. The coarse hair of his beard pulled against the half-healed scabs covering his chest. A triumphant smile twisted her innocent face. He knew if she stayed, he would grow to hate her with the same passion with which he loved her.

  “Why? You’re not her. You’re a shade, paltry replica of the real thing.”

  She glared at him, hands on her narrow hips, chin jutting out in that way he’d thought so adorable when she was a child, her black eyes blazing. She was as passionate in death as she’d been in life. “You killed me!”

  “Killer! Monster!” the voices shrieked in unison.

  Their accusations grounded him. The world condemned him. They reviled him. They hated

  him. They had made him the murderer, the assassin, and the killer. But he was also a warrior, a hunter, a hero, and a god. He was a Phlegethon daemon-god, a spirit of fiery passions given immortal form.

  He faced her, he faced Coronus. “The Titans killed Leuce. If you’re going to torture me,

  Coronus, stick with the voices of my victims. At least I killed them.”

  “Murderer!” the voices screamed in agreement.

  Her eyes narrowed, and she glided closer, her black hair whipping around her face as if she was standing in the middle of a maelstrom. “And you don’t think you’re responsible for my death?”

  “No.”

  “I’m a rotting corpse, Hades!”

  A blue tinge spread across her lovely bronzed skin. The faint blue turned white then grey. Her skin shrunk upon her bones and the stench of rot filled his nostrils. In seconds, her flesh showed the decay of decades.

  She reached for him in a strange parody of death’s embrace and he held his breath against the stench, waiting for to come to him. Globs of flesh dripped from her arms, plopping wetly against floor.

  “You killed me as surely as if you’d thrown me from the cliff yourself.”

  “I won’t take responsibility for Leuce’s death, Coronus.”

  Her arms closed around him. Her rancid breath fanned across his face. “They came for you

  and they found me. You should have warned me.”

  So that was how they found her? Waiting for him to return and give her the news of his

  victory. But there’d been no victory, only defeat and death.

  “This should have been you!” she snarled.

  “Leuce…” Her name held all the emotion and sorrow in his soul. It also betrayed them both.

  Triumph flared in the fiery depths of her eyes. Coronus had finally found the perfect weapon against Hades. Leuce would never know the peace she deserved. She would be bound to him

  forever, like the ghosts lashing at him. She would remain in this cesspool of despair, a pawn forced to play the game of her Titan overlord.

  He prayed to whatever gods listened to his kind, that the peace of death could be had for al
l the souls trapped with him. He prayed for vengeance against the Titans; not for himself, but for those who didn’t have to die. He prayed for the passionate, beautiful Leuce he knew in life, for the woman who didn’t deserve the fate she earned in death. He prayed for his freedom and the chance to make Coronus pay for every one of his mistakes. He would make the cruel god writhe in pain at his feet.

  The last of the decaying flesh and hunks of black hair sloughed from her bones, leaving a screaming skeleton in tattered rags. But the lack of vocal cords didn’t halt her voice.

  “I was never good enough for you! I could never be what you wanted! All I wanted was your love!” Her hands swept down her skeleton. “This is what I am because of you!”

  “You’re not Leuce!”

  “Murderer! Assassin!” the cacophony of voices hissed.

  She slapped him. The force disturbed his precarious perch and he scrambled to right his

  footing. The chains drew taunt, his joints wrenched in their sockets, his abused muscles screamed as he swung by his arms. Wounds, old and new, split open, spilling blood and pus onto the ground.

  She slapped him again and again. “You’re a selfish bastard! I loved you! I trusted you! And you betrayed me!”

  “Killer! Daemon!” the chanting voices continued their relentless assault.

  Leuce grabbed his chin, steadying him. He stared into the empty eye sockets, every word

  burned into his mind. “You’re a worthless god! An incompetent man!”

  “Murderer! Assassin!” the voices of his victims echoed their agreement.

  Squeezing his chin, her bony fingers dug into his flesh as she laughed. Her laugh, sharp and cutting, did more damage than the pottery slicing his feet to ribbons. “Pathetic fool!”

  It wasn’t her, he reminded himself. This wasn’t his Leuce. It was Coronus.

  The infinitesimal change in the stale air alerted him to the presence of others: an electric charge in the atmosphere and taste of sea mist. He breathed deep, savoring the scent. It gave him the hope of a reprieve.

  Hades glanced past Leuce’s bony shoulder, and his sharp eyes focused on the two gods

  shrouded in the gloomy dark of his prison. Not Titans.

  The web of magic in the room drew tight. The power snaking along his skin felt wrong. The subtle shift in the dense net jangled through the tendrils, shattering the strands, and releasing the compulsion upon them all.

  The voices ceased. Flesh reformed over Leuce’s bones as she turned on the two gods like an attacking long-tooth tiger. Her finger bones scraped bloody furrows down his cheeks.

  “Who are you?” she demanded.

  “A little dramatic,” the shorter of the two gods said, stepping into the cell. He waved his hand in a half circle, obvious disgust in his eyes as they rested on Leuce. “Be gone, phantoms. Return to your rest.”

  Hades clenched his teeth. His hands curling into fists. Leuce was worth more than all the gods combined. If he was free of the chains binding him to this prison, even in his weakened state, he could crush the self-important god with practiced ease. He gave the appearance of strength, but he was weak inside.

  Leuce sighed, a heavy sound filled with relief. She turned to Hades, her flesh completely reformed as she touched her lips briefly to his cheek. “I love you, too, brother.”

  She disappeared, leaving him alone with the two gods.

  The smaller god stepped forward into the dim glow of the flameless torchlight, a charismatic smile on his red bearded face. He stared hard at Hades. “Are you sure this is him?”

  The other hesitated a moment, a giant of a man with black hair and black eyes, before he

  moved to flank his leader. He would be a real challenge. “She said it was,” he rumbled deep within his chest.

  The redheaded god sniffed the air delicately and a grimaced. Hades hoped the gods choked on the stench of a thousand years of old blood, infection, and stale sweat.

  Smiling pleasantly, as if he wasn’t standing in a room of torture, but a grand hall, the redhead asked, “Are you the man that defied Coronus?”

  “We don’t have time for this, Zeus. That guard will be found.”

  “Rhea and Eris told us to find—”

  “I know what that deceptive bitch said! Warrior or no, we have to leave now.”

  “Eris sent you for me?” Hades interrupted.

  Zeus nodded. “Are you the one imprisoned for attacking Coronus in his own home?”

  “You can’t believe anything he says, brother. He would lie to get out of here.”

  Hades chuckled. The dark god was right. He would do anything to escape Tartarus. “Why did she send you?”

  The two brothers exchanged questioning glances. Hades processed the minute expressions

  and appearance of the two men. “You’re the sons of Coronus.” He licked his dry lips. They were his freedom! Only those who had the blood of Coronus could break the enchantment upon the chains and the room. “Release me, and I’ll fight for you. I’ll bring your enemies to their knees.”

  The dark one with the soulless eyes stepped forward. “You make hearty boasts for a dead

  man.”

  Hades smiled. It was a smile that suggested violence and unpleasantness. He knew its effect.

  He’d seen the horror or the uncertainty or the fear on the faces of others. These gods were no different.

  Focusing his gaze upon the red-haired man, Hades knew he could convince the god to free

  him. All he had to do was dangle the prize before the god’s eyes until he took the bait. And since the best way to convince a greedy man was to appear greedy himself, Hades demanded a reward.

  “I make no empty boast, but a promise. Free me, give me sovereignty over one of your kingdoms and a daughter to seal our alliance, and I’ll bring defeat upon your enemy by the end of the week.”

  Zeus grinned, laying a restraining hand upon his brother’s arm. “It’s a deal.”

  “Swear by the River Styx,” Hades said, leaning forward, uncaring of the pottery slicing his feed.

  “Zeus,” the dark god warned.

  Zeus shushed him. “I swear by the River Styx, if you defeat the Titans within the week, I will grant you a kingdom and one of my daughters to seal our alliance.”

  Zeus reached towards the chains, and Hades sighed with relief as power surged from his

  liberator’s fingers. The air warmed, burning into Hades flesh. The locks clicked and fell away.

  His legs, unused to the weight of his body, buckled.

  Hades fell upon the blood soaked stones and broken pottery, slicing his knees and hands. The first fiery ripples of pure, unadulterated power tingled along his skin. Oh, how he’d missed its seductive sweetness.

  “I’m not carrying him out of here.”

  “Shut up, Poseidon. I lost nothing by freeing him. If he can’t do as he says, he gets nothing but his freedom for as long as he can keep it!”

  Released from the floodgates, magic crashed over him like a roaring deluge of water. It

  coursed through his battered body. It stole the breath from his lungs. It surged through his veins.

  It permeated every cell in his emaciated body. And it seared away the last vestiges of Coronus’

  enchantment.

  He threw back his head, opening his arms to the power, to the centuries of magic denied him by Coronus, and screamed.

  The pain was worse than anything the Titans had ever devised. It was every second of his

  imprisonment compressed into one moment. It was the beatings, the knives slicing deep into his flesh, and the swords sheathed in his body. It was falling from the cliffs of Mount Othyrs and shattering every bone in his body. Crushing. Rendering. Splintering who was he was into

  millions of pieces.

  And then it ended, and the absence of pain was worse. He felt nothing. He sensed nothing.

  He cared for nothing.

  He staggered, teetering on the edge of the cliff, staring down into
the dark abyss of his own mind. It would be so easy to pitch himself into the peace of oblivion, to lose himself within his mind. He was spiraling into madness. It would have been so easy to just let go and allow nature take its course. But he’d been conditioned to fight, to survive at all costs.

  He needed a focus, a minor interruption. Because if he couldn’t bring his will to bear upon power coursing unchecked through his body, he would be lost. Control the power or go insane.

  He screamed his defiance.

  I am stronger!

  I am more powerful!

  I won’t let Coronus win!

  He jerked his hand across a pottery shard. White hot pain seared across his palm and bright red blood splashed upon the floor. He focused his all upon the sensations. But it wasn’t enough.

  Through blurred vision, he forced his hand to rise, and dug his fingers into the wounded

  flesh. Severe pain brought him back from the edge of insanity. His mind veered away from the metaphysical absence of feeling and grasped upon the physical pain, clutching it tight. He directed his attention to the tingling flesh and raw nerve endings that was his body, and used all his self-discipline and self-control to still the rampant magic.

  By sheer strength of will, he relaxed, seized the magic by the throat, and confronted the raging fire of extreme passion. Fury. Love. Hatred. Sorrow. Need. He promised them their

  chance at freedom and then thrust the intense emotions of a Phlegethon daemon denied his

  pleasures into the deepest place of his heart.

  He was the only master of his battered and wounded body!

  Enclosing the magic tightly in a cocoon of power, he opened his eyes and rose to his feet. He felt alive, complete, and healed for the first time in over a thousand years.

  He glanced at the two stunned gods and grinned. “Who do I serve?”

  Uncomfortable fear shone in Zeus’ eyes. He’d seen it in the eyes of others who had good

  reason to fear him. A healthy fear could only benefit Zeus for Hades was starting to suspect that neither god knew who they’d released.

  Zeus swallowed hard, raised his trembling hand, and attempted to smile. “I’m Zeus, King of the Olympians. This is my brother Poseidon. What exactly are you?”