My Lord Hades Read online

  Rayes set the finished crown on her head. “Well it’s time to go.”

  “Yes, time for us to take our leave.” Julas rose and headed toward the forest with Rayes in tow. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Persephone hid her disappointment. Demeter once told Persephone if her curiosity was

  pricked, she was like a wolf with a bone. She never understood the analogy, but she knew her heart. She wanted to learn about the world and men, about magic, and about her past. She had so many questions that would never be answered.

  The door to the villa closed and Persephone placed the finished flower crown upon her head, and looked up with a smile. Hestia’s lavender dress fluttered in the breeze as she walked the distance from the villa. “Those are lovely, my darling.” She rested her hand on Persephone’s shoulder and smiled. “It’s time for last meal.”

  Persephone rose, brushing the leaves and flowers from her pink dress. “The Nymphs tell me the war is over.”

  “Yes. Zeus was victorious. Your mother can tell you more when she returns.”

  Her mother would tell her nothing; she never did.

  Persephone sighed and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, suddenly self-conscious.

  There it was again, the sensation of being watched.

  “Are you ready to go in, Persephone?”

  She shook her head, looking toward the forest. “I need to do one thing first.”

  Hestia patted her cheek. “All right, dear, be quick. The meal is ready.”

  She watched her aunt stroll into the villa then looked over her shoulder, scanning the forest below. She felt eyes upon her, watching her every move, and she knew it was Hades.

  Glancing back at the villa, realizing that her aunt would protest if she knew Persephone was going to see the stranger in the forest, she felt the first thrills of adventure. Seeing nothing in the windows, she lifted the hem of her pale pink gown, and sprinted down the hill toward the trees.

  Briefly, she wondered if she was imagining things, but she knew her suspicions were true. Hades was waiting for her.

  Chapter 5

  THANATOS KNEW he wasn’t invited to the impromptu meeting of the Olympian gods, but

  it didn’t stop him from striding into Mount Olympus. Or breaking the ward denying anyone not invited from entering the meeting hall. Or shoving the large doors open so they smashed against the marble walls of the hall with a resounding crack. Or laugh as ten startled gods jumped and guiltily looked at him.

  He stepped over the threshold, looked at each of the gods in turn, and greeted them with a slight nod. “Zeus, Poseidon, Apollo, Artemis, Hera, Athena, Aphrodite, Hephaestus, Ares, and Deme—”

  “You were not invited!” Poseidon growled, rising from his chair.

  Thanatos grinned at the self-important god. “I know. I figured it was a slight oversight on Zeus’ part. So I invited myself.”

  “Get out!”

  The grin melted from his jovial face. “Do you think you can make me, Poseidon?”

  “Poseidon! Sit down.” Zeus’ firm voice was filled with warning for his older brother.

  Thanatos was actually surprised by the sudden command in the wimpy, horny god. Zeus was

  a careful one, cunning and stupid at the same time. As for the others, Thanatos had no illusions about their regard for his kind. They feared and hated the daemons who were more powerful because they were the living embodiment of the thing they governed.

  Thanatos didn’t rule over death; he was death. And he hated them as much as they hated him, but they were better than the Titans, so he would tolerate them for now.

  As for the matter he knew they discussed, it was important to him, so he would stay. He

  threw himself into an empty chair, swinging his legs over the arm, and interlacing his fingers behind his head. “I would listen to your brother, Poseidon. I imagine it would become very difficult for you if I took that immortal life from you.”

  Someone gasped.

  “Can he do that?” one of the women whispered.

  Closing his eyes and yawning, he settled into the chair. “Yes,” he answered. “You can

  continue now. I’ll interrupt when I’m ready.”

  He waved his hand. The doors banged close. Thanatos set stronger wards. It would be very

  bad for the Olympians if a certain god entered before the matter was settled. He knew there would be enough trouble before the week was done.

  “Yes…well…we were discussing the…the proper punishment for the Titans and their

  allies… Then there was…the matter of our allies and what to do to reward them…Then there

  was the battle strategy for tomorrow…”

  Silence.

  Thanatos pretended to doze, wondering how long the gods would play this game. The quiet

  stretched and stretched until he thought they would never speak again. Of course they would never leave the room until he released them. So he hoped someone spoke soon since he had other business to attend to for Rhea.

  “Zeusy dear, I think Thanatos wants to know how you plan to get out of your deal with

  Hades?”

  Thanatos turned his head to look at the blond, ditz of a woman. Aphrodite, goddess of love and whore to the gods. His opinion of her rose several degrees. She was smarter than she

  appeared in that ridiculously provocative dress.

  “I think we should put him back in Tartarus!” Poseidon glared at his brother. “You should’ve listened to me and kept him there!”

  “I agree with Poseidon,” Hera said.

  Her son Ares agreed with her, as did Artemis and Demeter.

  “I disagree,” Hephaestus rumbled, looking mighty uncomfortable.

  Thanatos thought it might have more to do with the presences of so many who disliked his

  deformities than the topic of discussion. Whatever the reason, it was none of his concern.

  Athena rose, giving Zeus and Poseidon a disapproving look. “You swore by the River Styx,

  Father. You have no choice. He succeeded in his task. You must give him his own Kingdom.”

  “I agree with Hephaestus and Athena for once. Why cause problems when granting Hades his

  reward would solve everything?” Aphrodite smiled and glanced at Poseidon with those bedroom eyes. Thanatos wondered if she had slept with the god yet, or if he continued to spurn her advances. “Unless you fancy a kingdom of your own, Poseidon?”

  Definitely more cunning than he’d given her credit for. Thanatos figured Zeus already knew his brother’s aspirations and Hephaestus only speculated. When Poseidon didn’t protest, they all knew truth. It was now five in favor of imprisonment and four in favor of giving Hades a

  kingdom. Zeus had yet to cast his vote.

  He waited patiently for the King of the Gods to decide, knowing that his vote could cast the precarious world into chaos or save it from chaos. Thanatos remembered the last time Hades had been swindled. The destruction had been devastating, and he didn’t want to see it again. He also didn’t want to see Hades imprisoned.

  He was fond of the boy he remembered. The boy had followed him around like a lost puppy,

  imitating everything Thanatos did. He also respected the man Hades had become. Despite Eris’

  best efforts to twist the mind of her son, Hades was a daemon-god of honor and fairness.

  He knew the moment Zeus decided upon a course of action. He leaned forward as if drawing

  the others into his confidence. “I think imprisonment would serve all best-”

  Thanatos laughed, and swung his legs to the floor and stood. All eyes focused on him. “How did you plan to capture him, Zeus? I don’t think the Titans trick would work a second time. And your combined strength couldn’t cast him from Mount Olympus. Using Leuce’s shade would

  only anger him more.” It was time to propose another option. “Since there are only two

  kingdoms to be claimed, then I see only one option.”
r />   “And?” Zeus asked. “What would you suggest?”

  “We all know you have claimed the Heavens and Poseidon fancies himself King of the Seas.

  And since most of you seem willing enough to fight for his claim, I suggest you resurrect a kingdom and give it to him to rule.”

  Poseidon grinned and Zeus reluctantly nodded.

  Aphrodite laughed. “And you think he’ll be happy with some paltry kingdom?”

  Definitely smarter than she was given credit for, he’d have to watch her. “If given the right incentive, he will.”

  “And what kingdom shall I recreate?”

  “The Underworld?”

  The shock in the room was palpable. Hera was the first to recover. “What excuse would you suggest Zeus use to enforce that decision?” she snapped.

  Thanatos narrowed his eyes at the uptight bitch. He hadn’t expected them to be happy about the idea, but hadn’t thought he’d have to fight them all. He’d offered a obvious solution to their problem. Did he have to think of everything?

  “Hades ate of the food of the Underworld. Ancient law condemned all those who ate of the

  food of the dead to remain in the world of the dead. There were no exceptions.”

  Demeter started, but before she could protest, Zeus said, “Done.”

  Thanatos tried to hide the grin. Yes, he’d condemned all the gods in the Underworld to

  remain there. But he’d also accomplished the task Rhea had sent him here to perform and the Underworld could only benefit from Hades’ rule. Now if he could only facilitate the return of their Queen, but that was a battle for another day. One that was not his to fight.

  The gods continued talking for awhile, but it was obvious they had finished their meeting so Thanatos released the warding on the door with a smile, watching Demeter, Hera, Ares, and Aphrodite rise from their seats and race for the door. It was good to know he could instill the same fear in these arrogant gods as he could mortals.

  Prepared to leave, Thanatos noticed Hephaestus in the far corner glaring at him, and

  sauntered over to the crippled god. Weaving a subtle spell around them so they couldn’t be overheard, Thanatos faced the Smith. “Hephaestus, I want to commission a set of crowns from you. One for Hades, and one for his Queen, when he decides to marry.”

  The god glared at him. “Do you think that wise? You condemned the man to rule over his

  prison.”

  Thanatos liked the belligerent god immensely. He spoke his mind and didn’t fear the

  repercussions. He was a god Thanatos respected.

  “Hades is a practical daemon. He’ll come to understand the wisdom of the choice made for

  him.”

  Hephaestus’ eyes narrowed. “That’s wrong.”

  “We can’t all have your honor, smith. Will you make the crowns for him?”

  He nodded. “What would you have them look like?”

  “Something simple. Use your artistic abilities and judgment. I trust you. Farewell, wise

  smith.” He flashed out of the room.

  Chapter 6

  HADES CURSED himself a fool.

  He swore not to return to this place and yet here he was again. Of course it wasn’t entirely his fault. He'd been in his room at Mount Olympus, dreaming of Persephone, and then a nymph

  threw herself upon him. He flashed out of his room so fast he didn’t bring a stitch of clothing with him. And where did he think to go?

  To Persephone’s valley.

  He’d created clothes for himself and sat in the forest watching her, his eyes devoured her like a starving man offered a rare delicacy. He should’ve left well enough alone, but despite his best intentions, the sight of her kindled his need, awakening the sexual beast inside him.

  Barely a day went by that he wasn’t here; watching her at her tasks, learning about her,

  adoring the whimsical things she did, wanting her. Every thought of her drew him back to the forest.

  By the gods, he must be the deftest daemon-god alive. He was a Phlegethon, pinning for a

  goddess he was more than capable of killing in a moment of lust, and all he could think of was what she would look like naked and in his bed.

  His mother would laugh to know her son was smitten innocent Persephone, a goddess who

  could touch him in ways no woman had ever done.

  Had his mother been standing beside him listening to his confession, she would have laughed in his face and then told him to take Persephone, bed her, and forget her. But he wasn’t his mother. Regardless of being Eris’ hell spawn, he refused to be like her.

  He shook his head. He was a fool to think he had a chance with Persephone. Their lives were so different. She was all shimmering light, radiant warmth, and the joyful wonder of

  inexperience. All aspects foreign to his base and questionable nature.

  The insight only served to make him aware of how different they were. They came from

  different worlds. His was violent and bloody; hers was happy and peaceful. He was born in a time when the strong survived and the weak perished. She was born in a time when the weak ruled and the strong protected them. He was no stranger to war, savage in battle and merciful in death, where there was little guilt in killing. To her war was a distant concept she had never see.

  He had to fight for that which he wanted, to kill those who stood in the way of his own survival.

  He was born to a world where it was right to fight and be savage against equally barbaric enemies.

  He could no more fit into her world than she could fit in his. They were poorly matched. But even knowing all this, he couldn’t stop watching her as she sat atop the hill with her nymph friends, one of which could’ve been the nymph in his room and two others who looked vaguely familiar.

  He wanted to go to Persephone and ease the loneliness he knew she felt even among the

  company of her friends, her mother, and her garden. Instead he closed his eyes, relaxed for the first time since he was a babe of three-years, and dozed.

  “I thought you weren’t coming back.”

  Hades jerked, his body reacting to the threat before he could fully stop it. Grabbing the hand reaching out to him, he pulled her off balance. She pitched forward into his lap and he caught her against him.

  She felt so good.She shifted against him, looking up at him from her place in his lap without fear or awkwardness at the strangeness of his action or her position. She was actually smiling, mirth dancing in her eyes.

  “Note to self, don’t wake the sleeping warrior.”

  “Sorry, I had a visitor this morning—”

  “Tarma. She said something about seeing your man part?”

  His face heated with embarrassment. “She woke me from sleep and I left without my

  clothes.”

  “Was it so bad to have a nymph in your bed?”

  He coughed. What kind of woman was this! She didn’t know what a man was. But she talked

  of sexual things as if…as if they were everyday things, like flowers and food. She was too innocent to realize that sitting on the lap of a Phlegethon daemon-god was no safer than

  discussing a man’s nether regions.

  “I didn’t invite her there and I prefer to choose my own bed partners.”

  She reached out to grip his forearm and he didn’t try to stop her. He wanted to prove her touch had no power over him. Her hand rested on his arm and his skin prickled under the

  strength of her power.

  Liquid heat flowed through him in a single hot wave that brought instant desire to his loins.

  He shifted slightly and stilled as his disobedient man part leapt with the friction, his thickening arousal pinned between their bodies. He swallowed hard and stared down at her.

  Her true power, like his, was buried behind a weaker aura of magic. He stared into those

  liquid eyes and knew he could deny her nothing. Her magic was a balm to his soul, unlike

  a
nything he’d ever encountered. It tasted pleasant, sweet, and innocent, with the gentlest hint of sensuality and passion. It didn’t attack, but thrummed through the blood beating below the surface of her honeyed skin. His own magic rose to meet hers, swirling around them, enveloping them in a warm cocoon of magic.

  She slid off his lap and knelt beside him so they could face each other. “May I touch your face?”

  His body reacted to the soft touch of her hands skimming up his scarred arms, over his

  shoulders, fingering the jagged edges of his hair, and finally resting on his face. She looked so serious as her fingers combed through his short beard. She touched the cleft in his chin, and then her own chin. She ran her fingers over his cheeks, pausing at the twin scars starting at his jaw and curving up his left cheek to his cheekbone. He waited for the disgust and the questions that would follow, or the avoidance of it.

  In his youth his mother had often teased him that with his pretty face he’d be mistaken for a woman, but when his face was cut from cheekbone to chin by a harpy and roughly stitched back together, she’d mocked him his skills as a warrior and a looker.

  She traced the scars, brushing a lock of hair from his face. She leaned closer, her lush body pressed intimately against his, and his body flushed with instant heat. He was lost and didn’t care. He wanted her to touch him. He craved it.

  She giggled, dragging him from the invigorating taste of her magic. “What’s so amusing?”

  “The hair on your head is soft, but the hair on your face…the, um, the beard, ‘tis wiry.” She brushed her fingers over the hair on his lower jaw. “I don’t have that. See.”

  He didn’t resist as she brought his hand to her face, resting his fingers against her cheek. Yes, she was soft. Soft as silk. She was stunning too. Her high cheekbones flushed with color, her full lips curved into a smile for him.

  He tentatively reached out, his mind caressing hers, and ran into an unnatural barrier. He delved deeper, stunned by what he found. She was cut off from the power of her birthright, unaware of the magic flowing between them. Who would dare to tamper with the natural order of things?

  He sought the cause of her blocked power or some hint as to who placed them there. Maybe