For the Love of Hades (Loves of Olympus 2)

“Rain. Rain would be the best choice.” Athena glared at Poseidon. “So we must come up with another plan.”

“A storm, perhaps,” Aphrodite turned to Poseidon, entreating. “A storm would ensure success. And leave the mortals unharmed.”

Zeus glanced at Poseidon, his expression holding little hope. “What say you? Will you help?”

Poseidon nodded quickly. “Of course.”

But unlike the rest of the Olympians, Hades was distracted by Poseidon. There was a look about him, a tenderness that surprised Hades. More surprising was that Poseidon looked upon Aphrodite so. He forced himself to join the others, but not before he saw Poseidon stroke Aphrodite’s rounding stomach… Not before he saw her blush and shy away from Poseidon’s touch.

What attachment had formed between them? And what would happen upon its end? He knew, without a doubt, that such an affair would end. His brother had no capacity for devotion, no comprehension of loyalty. And poor Aphrodite, so desperate to find love herself, would find herself soon alone. He glanced back, watching the Goddess arrange the gathers of her voluminous robes over her stomach.

Her condition was well hidden, covered as she was.

But in time, he suspected a babe would join Olympus. And then, with or without Poseidon, the Goddess of Love would no longer be alone.

“Hades,” Apollo beckoned to him. “Ares’ plan is promising.”

It eased the pain, knowing they would help him confront this new foe. In truth, he almost pitied Erysichthon and his army of souls. They’d no notion of what would be waiting for them when they chose to attack.

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“Persephone?” Her mother’s voice?

She blinked. Where was she? Why were there so many faces staring at her?

Her eyes settled, focused. She was floating… No, someone held her. She turned, looking at a chest.

Her eyes traveled up.

Her voice wavered. “Hermes?”

“She needs rest, Demeter. I can only imagine the conditions she’s become accustomed to…” a woman spoke, her regal face lined with concern.

Persephone laid her head back and closed her eyes, the strong beating of Hermes’ heart filling her ears.

“Yes, rest,” she heard her mother’s voice. “Follow me, Hermes. We’ve chambers here… Until this matter with Erysichthon is done.”

Persephone did not open her eyes when she heard him; indeed, she turned into Hermes to stifle her cry of pain.

“I need no payment,” Hades voice was cold.

“Shh,” Hermes’ voice was in her ear. He carried her, the voices from the Council Chamber fading behind her. A door shut, she heard it, and could hear him no more.

She sobbed, clinging to Hermes’ chiton with trembling hands.

“Shh,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear. “I am sorry, Persephone. Let your mother comfort you.”

She shook her head, searching for her control.

“In here,” Demeter was speaking. “Oh, child, cry if you will. I will cry with you.”

Hermes set her on the bed, covered in thick white furs and woven blankets of the softest fabric. She stared at the bed, then the room, through bleary eyes. It was so bright, so white… Her eyes felt heavy and swollen. She sniffed.

“I shall leave you,” Hermes murmured.

She met his eyes. “Thank you.”

“Yes, Hermes, thank you.” Demeter hugged him, escorting him to the door and whispering. “I beseech you. Find out what might tempt Hades. He’s too quick to dismiss his needs. I will hound him relentlessly on this, you may tell him as much.”