For the Love of Hades (Loves of Olympus 2)

“My lord.” Her voice was too soft. Had he heard her?

He lifted his head from his hands, surprised by her presence. He recovered quickly, straightening rigidly. The haunted look she glimpsed was shuttered away and replaced by his careful mask of indifference. Oh how she longed to touch his face, to cup his cheek and hold him close to her. He had no need to withhold himself from her, no need to be careful with her.

“Persephone.”

She was not deterred by his coolness. Her steps were cautious, but she made her way to him. She would not stop now. Her voice was steadier. “Aphrodite?”

His eyes narrowed, briefly. “Aphrodite is gone.”

She drew in a slow breath. “I thought as much.” Finally, she stood before him. Surely he could sense her agitation? Surely he could hear her heart? Her tunic, the front of her peplos, seemed to quiver in time with its frantic beating.

He clutched the arms of his throne. The line of his jaw grew tight. Tension rolled from him, making her swallow. How to begin?

“I’ve not asked you for anything in my time here.” She paused. “Have I?”

He shook his head once, all the while his deep blue eyes boring into hers.

I must tell him I love him, tell him I need him, as my love… or my husband. But his gaze unnerved her. The words that poured from her lips were not what she planned, “Nor would I trouble you now, if my need were not so great.” Her voice was no steadier than her pulse. She was making no sense.

He swallowed, then asked harshly, “What is it?”

His tone almost made her wince, but she forced herself to meet his gaze – so he would know her intent. Her mind raced, searching for the words she needed, as she sank to her knees before him. His hands were taut, his fingers white as he clenched the arms of his throne. She reached up and

covered his hands with hers.

It felt better then. She felt better. She could go on.

Yet he no longer looked at her face. His eyes stared at her hands on his. His chest rose and fell. The muscle in his jaw bulged.

She drew in another deep breath. “Show me mercy. Show me the same mercy you’ve bestowed upon your mortal… the soldier Ariston.” Her hands clung to his.

He glanced at her, his hands gripping the throne harder.

“Have I been cruel? That you feel the need to beg for anything from me?” His voice was low. She shook her head, and he continued, “Then why do you kneel before me?” His words were a harsh whisper, testing her resolve.

“It is a selfish request, one that may turn you from solicitous to … sickened.” Words failed her. His hostility was quickly stealing her determination. She glanced at him, but his eyes were fixed upon her hands, wrapped about his. The slight crease settled on his brow. She stared at his brow, knowing she was failing miserably to explain the necessity of their union.

“Ask me,” he murmured, huskily.

“My lover… Release him.” Her eyes burned, the well of unshed tears surprising her. “Release the man who loves me, please.” There, she’d said it. But he tensed, his eyes closed.

What had she said?

When he looked at her, pain filled his deep blue eyes. Pain the depths of which she’d not expected. He did not conceal it from her. For one brief moment, he looked a broken man. And she could not bear such a sight. Her hands tightened about his, pulling them from the arm rails.

“Who is this man? What…what mortal… who is it?” He spoke, a rasping, anguished whisper.

She frowned. She’d made a mess of things. “No… no…”

Hades’ home shook, the very mountain it was carved into trembling. Thunder, louder than any she’d ever heard, set the very air vibrating. “What is happening?” Another tremor rattled the mountain, sending her reeling. He caught her, the strength of his arms easing her panic.

“A firestorm,” he spoke softly.

“A firestorm?” she asked. His hands held her shoulders, distracting her.

His hands slipped from her shoulders as the room stilled.

“Is it done?” She waited, wondering what would happen next.