Hades x Persephone

Persephone appeared in Hades bedchamber—their bedchamber, she corrected herself. She spent all day interviewing people who had claims against the Divine and wanted to tell their story. Most were unfounded complaints that the gods had not answered their prayers, but there was one Persephone was still ruminating on and it actually shed a positive light on Apollo. The story had come from a woman named Perimele, daughter of Alcestis and Admetus. She spun a tale of how the God of the Sun had advocated on behalf of her parents twice—once when Admentus was going to die and then when Alcestis died. She was not sure of the details—the bargains Apollo had to strike in exchange for returning them to life, but he had saved the two mortals and they had lived a long life. 

“Without Apollo, I wouldn’t be here,” she had explained. It was a story Persephone had never heard before, and as she pulled off her heels, she wondered why Apollo had not spoken of his deed before. 

Persephone stretched and headed into the bathroom. Most days, she preferred to soak in the Hades’ private baths, but tonight, she needed to wash her hair, something she tried to avoid for as long as possible. Her hair was thick and long and when it was wet, it was heavy. Still, it had been about six days since her last wash, and she could only use so much dry shampoo before her scalp started to look like it was covered in snow. 

She started the shower and let the water warm while she poured a glass of wine. When steam began to fog the air, she stripped down and stepped beneath the spray. The water was hot and felt good against her skin. Any kind of bath was a ritual to Persephone, like she was washing the burdens of the day away. She took her time, massaging her scalp and her skin, and as the soap slid down her body, and swirled away down the drain, she felt Hades’ magic surround her. She inhaled his scent, letting the smell of spice and whiskey fill her lungs. Before she could exhale, Hades appeared in the shower with her. He was huge and naked and his cock erect. 

She wanted to say something, but words were frozen in her throat as he turned her around, spread her legs, and sheathed himself inside her. There was no teasing or touching. The only warning was his swollen sex, and now it was inside her. She gave a guttural cry that caught painfully in her throat as she was suddenly full of him—and it was pleasure. 

She arched her back, her palms, breasts, and face pressed into the cold tile as Hades pumped into her. His fingers dug into her hips, and after a moment, he drew her hair around his hand, and pulled her toward him, attempting to make her straighten and she felt him sharply in the bottom of her stomach. She moaned and Hades’ captured the sound, tongue thrust into her mouth. 

She had never felt him quite like this before and she knew that something wound him tight and he had come to seek release just as she had—only in different ways. Her thoughts about his day were lost when he released her hair and his arm circled her waist, his pace quickened, and their bodies slammed together. They came just as Persephone’s legs gave out. 

Hades lifted her into his arms and carried her out of the shower. He held her gaze as he walked, but they didn’t speak. She was dripping wet, and so was he, but he didn’t seem to care as he lowered her onto his bed and left to shut off the shower.

When he returned, she hadn’t moved, exhausted from their coupling. She wasn’t sure why this particular session had taken so much of her energy, but she was left feeling shaky—shattered, in the best way possible. 

Hades crawled toward her and as he covered her body with his, she touched his face, fingers grazing his cheek.  

“Are you okay?” she asked.  

His answer was a kiss—gentle and sweet, nothing like the way he’d kissed her before. He pulled away and spoke quietly.  

“Better now.” 

“Won’t you tell me?”  

“Later,” he promised, kissing her again, and she let him. For a while, she felt boneless, still not recovered from earlier, but the longer his lips explored, moving from her mouth to her jaw, down her neck and between her breasts, a familiar hunger curled in the bottom of her stomach and crawled up her throat, and soon her fingers were threading through his wet hair, but Hades took them in his own, kissed her palms, and moved out of reach, spreading her legs, his tongue flicking her clit. She groaned and stretched, reaching over her head so that her hands were pressed against the headboard as he took his time, parting her flesh and tasting her, his mouth closing over her clit. 

Persephone’s breath escaped as a moan, and she arched her back. He stayed like that, the pressure consistent, the pleasure, stunning. She moved her foot, brushing Hades’ cock. She wanted to hold it in her hands, please him as he had pleased her.  

A familiar tension built inside her—it stole her breath and her thoughts and all she could focus on was the sensation of coming apart—and when she did, it was with Hades’ name on her lips—words he captured as his mouth closed over hers again before he guided his sex to her opening and thrust. Persephone drew her legs up and open, her lips leaving his as she gasped, full of him. Hades moved, but he made slow and deliberate strokes, maintaining a close distance as he hovered over her, resting on his forearms.  

“I missed you,” Hades said, his eyes as black as an abyss as he stared down at her. “I missed you,” she whispered.  

They hadn’t been apart but for the duration of a workday—eight hours, and yet Persephone found that he was all she could think about—memories from previous nights accosted her at random moments, or she found herself wondering what he was doing—what part of his world was he engaged with that she had yet to discover? She knew that whatever he had experienced today—whatever had him pushing her into the tile wall and fucking her from behind—was something she wasn’t aware of yet, and that’s why it was taking him so long to tell her. 

But she could be patient, especially while he was inside her. 

She watched his face for as long as she could, until he could no longer maintain his controlled movements. He drew himself up from his elbows to his hands and threw his head back, the veins in his neck bulging as he pumped into her harder. Their heavy breaths filled the air and turned to moans as they came and when Hades withdrew a warm spray of come glistened on her thighs.  

Hades rolled off and stood, bringing her with him as he carried her to the shower. They took turns washing one another, and dried off, returning to bed once Hades had manifested dry sheets, though it was still early in the evening. Persephone rested her head against Hades’ bare shoulder, her body pressed against his side. She thought she would ask about his day, but she found that as Hades traced lazy circles against her skin with the tips of his fingers, her eyes grew heavy with sleep.  

“How was your day?” she mumbled.  

She felt Hades lips touch her hair as he answered. “I’ll tell you later.”  

“Okay,” she whispered as darkness consumed her.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“You,” he said. “Always you.”

They kissed again, and Persephone eased Hades’ jacket off. Their hands clashed as they both worked the buttons of his shirt free. Soon, he was naked, too, and together they knelt to the floor. While on their knees before each other, Hades hand slipped between her thighs. He teased her opening, fingers dipping into her warm, wet flesh. Another arm wrapped around her waist, and he welded their bodies together as he moved deeper inside her—using one finger, then two. He loved the feel of her, the way her breath quickened, her cries of pleasure. It wasn’t long before he guided her to her back, spread her legs as wide as they would go, and licked her, sucked her, teased her. Her hands tangled in his hair, and she pressed into him, hips moving and when she came, she arched her back, her hands dug into his scalp, and he drank her, tongue lashing to catch every bit of her sweetness and when he was finished, he climbed up her body and slid into her. Settled between her legs, he did not move immediately. He stared into her eyes, clear to her soul, seeing his life with her, their future, not just as king and queen, but as lovers.

He brushed her hair from her face. It stuck to the perspiration that glistened across her forehead before kissing her lips.

“You are beautiful,” he said and came up onto his toes, going deeper.

She sighed and let out a breath. “So are you,” she replied.

He chuckled, and pulled out, the head of his cock barely inside her. “I think you are mindless with pleasure, darling.”

She pulled her lips between her teeth and then answered. “Yes,” she gave a shuttering breath as he pushed into her again. “But I have always thought you were beautiful—more beautiful than any man I have ever seen.” He moved as they continued this easy conversation and Hades had the thought as he stared into her glittering eyes that there was something different about the way they had come together this time—something deeper and darker and even more intimate. “I will never forget how I felt when I first saw you,” she said.

“Tell me,” he urged.

Despite the warmth of the fire nearby and the sweat beading across their skin, she shivered. “I felt your eyes on me, like hands touching my whole body. I had never felt so enflamed. I had never felt so afraid.”

“Why afraid?” he asked, he bent closer to her lips and she shifted, her legs spreading farther apart to accommodate his movements, which had grown in tempo. “Because…” she started, and then paused. “Because I knew I could love you and I wasn’t supposed to.”

Hades lips closed over hers, and it felt like his chest had opened up and all of his thoughts and feelings were pouring into her. His paced quickened, and they were quiet after that—even their moans and sighs were quiet—until they reached their climax, coming in waves and collapsing in a heap of limbs and breaths and sweat.

Hades rolled onto his back, and Persephone pressed into him, her head on his chest. “Your mother hates me,” Hades said. “If she knew you were here, she would punish you.”

Persephone rolled onto him and sat up, straddling his body. His eyes ignited as her wet and swollen center cupped his hardening flesh. “Only if she finds out,” she replied.

“Will I always be your secret?” Hades asked, doing his best to make it sound as if he were teasing, but there was a true challenge to his question because her answer would tell him about how she thought of their future. Except, she did not answer.

“I do not wish to talk about my mother,” she said, her fingers threading with this, hips rolling against his own and Hades didn’t press—he didn’t want to lose this moment—the way she guided his hands over his head and leaned over him, the way her breasts bounced as she impaled herself on his cock, the way she rode him until she was too tired to move and he had to take over, rising into a sitting position so he could grip her body to his and continue creating that delicious friction that sent him over the edge, until his mind was blissfully blank, his concerns for their forever, forgotten.

Lexa sits in a cozy chair opposite me. She rests one arm on a fluffy pillow, her leg is bent beneath her. She looks comfortable and happy; her long black hair is pulled into a knot at the top of her head, and she is wearing a pair of black, skinny overalls with a white shirt.  

INTERVIEWER: “Thank you so much for joining me today, Lexa.”  

LEXA: Smiles. “Oh, it’s my pleasure.”

INTERVIEWER: “I wanted to start our interview with some questions about where you grew up and your family. Can you tell us about your childhood?”  

LEXA: “Of course. I’m from Ionia, born and raised. My parents are professors. My mother, Eliska, is a painter and she teaches at the Ionia School of Art. My father, Adam, is a philosopher and teaches at the Ionia School of Philosophy. They always encouraged my creativity.”

INTERVIEWER: “What did they think when you began practicing witchcraft?”

LEXA: “My mother is a witch, so it was a natural avenue to explore. My mother fed my love for the Goddess Hecate.”  

INTERVIEWER: “What do you love most about Lady Hecate?”  

LEXA: “Her energy. She’s powerful and beautiful, she is fearless and thoughtful, she is unapologetic and dark. She is everything I hope to be.”  

INTERVIEWER: “And what does your father think of you and your mother’s witchcraft?”

LEXA: Laughs. “My father is absolutely in love with my mother. He likes to tell people she put him under a spell and made him fall madly in love with her. Of course, the only spell was my mother’s beauty and kindness. He supports everything she does. He supports everything I do, too.”  

INTERVIEWER: “Are you more like your mother or father?” 

LEXA: “I hope I am like both of my parents. They are very kind, and they view the world in such a beautiful way. I’d like to always see the world the way they do.” 

INTERVIEWER: “Everything you say sounds so… dreamy.”

LEXA: “I view the world dreamily, I think.” Laughs. 

INTERVIEWER: “What did you major in when you came to New Athens University?” 

LEXA: “Classical Studies with a minor in art.” 

INTERVIEWER: “And what is Classical Studies?” 

LEXA: “It is the study of our ancient history. I love the gods, but it really does go deeper than their celebrity. I am interested in their personalities and their decisions, why they took sides throughout history. Oh, I also declared a minor in art… that was mostly for fun.”  

INTERVIEWER: “And at what point did you meet Persephone?” 

LEXA: “I was kind of a creep. I saw her sitting outside the library one day. She was sort of impossible to miss. She just seemed to glow, but more than that… I don’t know… I just felt like she looked at the world the way my parents did so I approached her and asked if I could sit beside her. She said yes. I asked what she had been looking at because she’d seemed very intent upon something. She said she’d been admiring the white poplar trees. Don’t tell her, but that was the moment I shipped her and Hades.”  

INTERVIEWER: “Did you have any inkling that Persephone was a goddess?” 

LEXA: “Not... a real goddess, but I always felt like she was a goddess anyway, if that makes sense. She was always so desperate to make change and to help people.” 

INTERVIEWER: “What’s your favorite thing about your relationship with her?”

LEXA: Smiles. “I love every moment with her. Her friendship is… peace.” 

INTERVIEWER: “Speaking of Persephone, I suppose we must ask about Hades. What was your first impression of the God of the Dead.”   

LEXA: Giggles. “Well, he’s ridiculously handsome… tall… powerful. You can feel his power. It is electric. It is actually a little scary, but I also felt like he was very protective and caring and with his knowledge of the world, a good lesson for Persephone.” 

INTERVIEWER: “Lesson?” 

LEXA: Laughs. “Yes! Persephone had been so sheltered before she came to University. I mean, I had met sheltered people before, but no one like her. She’d never really had relationships before—romantic or not. After I found out she was a goddess, I realized that even the friends she’d had prior to us meeting were only there because they had to be. A relationship—a real one—would teach her a lot about communication and compromise and the fun things like sex. HAHA.” 

INTERVIEWER: “Speaking of sex… readers want to know… Have you ever witnessed something… between Hades and Persephone...” cough. “like what happened in the kitchen…” cough. 

LEXA: Throws her head back, giddy with laughter. “No, that was the ONLY time, thank the gods, but just because I didn’t walk in on them, doesn’t mean I didn’t hear it… through the walls… multiple times.” 

INTERVIEWER: “Okay, Lexa, last question: If you could marry one of the Divine, who would it be?”

LEXA: Smiles sheepishly. “I don’t want to speak it aloud.”  

INTERVIEWER: “Why not?” 

LEXA: “I guess I have this fear that if I say it… it will never happen. Like a wish you make before you break a wishbone.”  

INTERVIEWER: “Fair enough—tell us this—god or goddess?” 

LEXA: “God.” 

INTERVIEWER: “Upperworld or Underworld?” 

LEXA: Blushes. “Underworld.” 

INTERVIEWER: “And how long have you had a… crush on this god?” 

LEXA: “Longer than memory.”  

INTERVIEWER: “It has been a true pleasure, Lexa.”  

LEXA: “I feel the same. Thank you for having me.”  

Club Aphrodisia

“How can you be engaged to the hottest god in the world—aside from me, of course—and you still have nothing sexy to wear?” Hermes complained, shoving aside blouse after blouse and skirt after skirt. “Fucking Fates, Sephy. Your wardrobe screams I’m not interested in sex.”

“Do you really think Hades would approve if my wardrobe screamed otherwise?”

“At this point, Sephy, I’m just wondering how you managed to catch his attention. What did you wear the night you met? Tweed?”

He brandished the ugliest skirt he’d ever seen. It was various shades of beige.

Persephone reached for it. “That’s for work!”  

“And?” Hermes moved out of reach. “ I know you fuck at work, Sephy. You can’t tell me this wouldn’t chafe.”

“I’m not sure how you have sex, Hermes, but it typically involves removing clothes.”

“Yeah but who wants to remove this?”

“If you must know,” she said, finally snatching it away, “Lexa always let me borrow her clothes.” 

“Well that explains a lot,” he said, pulling another skirt from her collection. This one had florals.

“Is this… embroidery?”

Persephone glared at him. “I didn’t ask for a consultation on my wardrobe, Hermes. You’re supposed to help me find something to wear. Something Hades would approve of. I haven’t even asked him if I can go to Club Aphrodisia yet.”

Hermes could guess how Hades would take her request to go to a sex club with him–not well, even if it was for research. 

Maybe research was the wrong word, though he wouldn’t be surprised if Sephy came away with some new ideas to try with Hades. Maybe a better word was…observation? That sounded voyeuristic. Maybe Sephy would discover a new kink. It was probably better to just state exactly why they wanted to go to the club–because Helen was a bitch and likely a traitor.  

“Does Hades approve of these clothes?” Hermes asked. “They look like something he’d approve of.”

“One more comment on my wardrobe and you can’t come,” she said.

“You can’t do that,” said Hermes. “You need me to get into Aphrodisia.”

“I am Hades’s fiancée,” Persephone said. “I don’t need anyone to get me into anything.”

Hermes noticed Persephone cringe a little after she spoke.

“I can’t believe I just said that,” she said.

“Why? It’s true,” he said. “If I was engaged to Hades, I’d use that power all the time.”

“But I don’t want to have to use it,” said Persephone. “I want to obtain things on my own merit.”

“Persephone,” said Hermes. “You need to start seeing your status as a tool. Use it enough and pretty soon, you will obtain things on your own merit. Sometimes it’s a matter of working the system.”

He turned back to observe her closet, hands on his hips.

“Please tell me you have lingerie,” he said.

Persephone was quiet and Hermes turned to look at her over his shoulder. “No?”

“I tried that once, Hermes. You know how long it lasted? Seconds.” 

“That’s the point!” he said.

Persephone gave him both a confused and annoyed look. These conversations often left her flustered which gave him a level of satisfaction that only encouraged him to continue teasing her.

“Don’t you ever seduce Hades?”

“You realize I can just walk into a room, and he is seduced?” she said. 

“Just because Hades is a horny motherfucker doesn’t mean you shouldn’t put in effort. Geez, Sephy. Do I have to teach you everything?”

“No,” she said. “In fact, I wish you’d just help.”

“I am helping!” he argued. “I’m telling you your wardrobe is not appropriate for a hot goddess.”

“Whatever,” Persephone said. 

He could feel her rolling her eyes and grinned as he moved into the very back of the closet where he managed to find one dress that might be suitable for tonight. He turned to Persephone who stood at the entrance, arms folded over her chest, watching him with a look of irritation. 

“You’re a hopeless case,” said Hermes, holding up a short, black dress. “This would work.”

“It’s held together with pearls,” she said.

“So?” he asked.

“You do realize I’m not going to this club to have sex. I’m going to figure out what Helen has been up to.”

“And if you don’t look the part, you won’t be investigating anything. You should wear this. Hades won’t like it, but you’ll blend in.” He tried shoving the dress into her arms but she turned her back to him when she heard Hades’s voice. 

“What’s going on?”

A shiver shook Hermes’s spine at the sound. Not because he was afraid. That’s just what his voice did. It reached places inside you, especially when he was grumpy. Hermes suspected that Hades thought he sounded intimidating, and he guessed that was true but fuck it was hot. 

“Are you okay?” Persephone asked, but it was clear he was pissed. “What happened with Zeus?” 

“Nothing,” he snapped, his gaze zeroing in on Hermes, accusatory. “What’s happening here?”

Why do I always get blamed? Hermes thought as Persephone stumbled over her words. 

“I… um… Hermes was…”

“Sephy has to go to a sex club,” he said, feeling that it was best to just get this over with. Rip the bandage off as the mortals liked to say. 

“That’s not what’s happening,” Persephone said quickly. 

Hermes tried not to laugh. He could practically hear her heart racing as she tried to get ahead of this conversation. 

“Well, not yet,” he added, snickering. “She has to ask you first.”

They both glared at him and spoke at the same time. “Hermes, shut up.” 

Hermes’s mouth opened and then slammed shut as he glared back at the two. 

“Fine,” he sniffed. “I’ll be in the closet.”

He turned around and wandered to the back again, though he could still hear the two talking. 

“After Helen was asked to leave, Sybil, Leuce, and Zofie went through her things. We found a date, time, and an address for Club Aphrodisia. We think she might be attending a meeting of some kind associated with Triad.”

“And you want to go?”

“We all do. Zofie, Sybil, Leuce, Hermes,” she said. “This is personal, Hades.”

“It might be personal, but that does not mean you can be stupid,” he said.

“Oof. What an idiot,” Hermes said, cringing at Hades’s words. How was it possible that some of the hottest things ever said came from that mouth and yet, he also managed to say some of the dumbest. 

He was definitely all beauty and no brains. 

There was a pause and he knew the two were glaring at him, but it wasn’t like they could expect privacy. They were in a fucking closet. 

“We may have a chance to learn what they are planning,” Persephone said. “Do you not want to prevent another attack?”

“Of course,” Hades said. “But that does not mean I want you there. Hermes can go.”

“Hermes can go,” he mocked under his breath. “It’s always Hermes, deliver this message or Hermes, run this errand. It’s never thank you for all your work, Hermes. Being the messenger of the gods must be so difficult. You deserve a reward. Let me bathe you, feed you grapes, and give you a massage. Wouldn’t that be nice?” 

Like always, no one was paying attention to him. 

He focused on what was in front of him and cringed. 

Gods. How many flats does one person really need and in the worst colors…is that beige? 

“Good thing her sex life has variety,” he muttered. 

Though he was starting to question that by the lack of lingerie and sex toys she owned. He was going to have to take matters into his own hands. 

While Hades and Persephone bickered behind him, he teleported, finding himself in a closet full of various shades of pinks, teals, and white. There were sheer robes lined with feathers and shimmering fabrics. 

Hermes rubbed his palms together, giggling and then smoothed his hands over the silken fabrics before choosing one–a light blue dress with a corset top and fit and flare skirt. The straps were beaded, as was the bodice. He held it up to his body and then turned toward the mirror, only to see Aphrodite glaring at him. 

He gave a high-pitched yelp when he saw her. 

“What are you doing?” she asked. She was dressed in pink, a robe draping her curvaceous frame. There was a time when he’d wanted to fuck Aprhodite. He’d even vyed for her hand in marriage. 

In his defense, everyone was doing it. 

“What does it look like?” he asked. 

She raised a brow. “I could tell you what it looks like, but I think you’d be better off explaining yourself.”         

“Sephy’s going to a sex club. She needs an outfit,” he paused and then added, “Duh.” 

Aphrodite’s brows rose even higher. “A sex club…is…Hades going, too?”

“I don’t know, they’re discussing it now. Anyway, she needs something sexy,” he said and returned his attention to her closet. “Are you going to help or not?”

“No,” she said. “Because she isn’t going. Hades would never say yes.”

“He might,” Hermes said. “It isn't like she will be alone. I’m going, too.”

“Even more reason to say no,” she said. 

“Hey! I’m safe,” he said, turning to face her again. 

“Until you get distracted by a pretty boy or big dick.”

“It doesn’t have to be big,” he said. “It’s about skill not size.”

Aphrodite raised a brow, her eyes lowering. “Exhibit A.”

“Mine’s not small, Aphrodite,” Hermes snapped. “If you must know, we’re not going for sex. We’re going to investigate.”

“Investigate what?”

“Helen’s apparently working with Theseus and there’s some kind of meeting happening tonight at Club Aphrodisia. Guess Sephy wants to figure out just how involved Helen’s got and I can’t blame her. That bitch got close. There is no telling what sort of information she’s fed to Impious and in turn, Triad.”   

Aphrodite stiffened. “Triad will be there?”

He shrugged. “That’s what we think,” he said. “But we won’t know until we get there and we won’t get there unless you help me find a dress for Sephy.” 

Aphrodite thought for a second more and then pushed past Hermes. She wandered to the back of her closet, reaching to the very depths to withdraw something silky and black. 

Hermes snatched it from her. “Perfect!”

“You didn’t even look at it,” she protested. 

“I don’t need to,” he said. “It’s black. Hades will love it.” 

Aphrodite opened her mouth to respond but Hermes left, returning to Persephone’s closet. Once there, he held the dress up. It had a deep v neckline and slits that would show off her thighs. It was simple, but better than anything he’d found so far, plus, it had more fabric than the other option which he retrieved from the floor where he’d left it.

He slipped it on, partly because he wanted to fuck with Hades, but also if the God of the Dead saw this dress, he wouldn’t bat an eye at Aphrodite’s choice. 

“This is more than just a wish to help, Hades,” Persephone was saying as he made his way to the front of the closet. “You have to let me stand for something.”

There was a pause and then Hades spoke, “Hermes is going?”

“He has already agreed to swear an oath to protect me,” she answered. “If that would make you feel better.”

Hermes held his breath at Persephone mentioning the oath. It was evident to him she did not understand the gravity of such a thing. An oath was binding. The words, once spoken, could not be undone. If Hermes failed to protect her as promised, he would owe Hades his blood–however the god chose to take it and as much as he liked a little bondage and dominance, there was nothing hot about receiving it at the end of a broken bond. 

Good thing he wasn’t going to break the bond. 

“I think the other dress, Sephy,” Hermes said, stepping out of the closet, smoothing his hands over the fabric before letting his hands rest on his hips. “This one’s a little too… fuck me, if you get my meaning.”

He felt Hades glare and Persephone groaned his name. 

Hermes considered commenting on Sephy’s moan but he thought against it as Hades took a step toward him. 

“You agreed to swear an oath?”

He held Hades’s dark gaze, unwavering. “I did.” 

“Swear it,” Hades said. Hermes might joke a lot, but there were also things he took very seriously. His word was one of them. “Swear you will protect her at all costs, even if it means an end to your own life.”

“Hades–” Persephone started to protest, but Hermes spoke over her.  

“I swear it,” he said. 

“You know the consequences if you fail?”

Hermes nodded. He didn’t even need time to consider the consequences before he’d agreed. He might have a lot of acquaintances but… Hades and Persephone… they were his only friends and he would do anything for them. 

After a few tense seconds, Hades dropped his gaze to the dress Hermes was wearing. 

“Black is not your color.”

Hermes' gaze trailed the length of Hades’s tailored black suit. It wasn’t that his tastes were bad. If anyone could pull off an all black wardrobe, it was the God of the Dead. It was that he wore the same thing every day with the exception of the one time he managed to get him into gray sweatpants and fuck, that was a treat. 

“Since when did you become the fashion police?”

The corner of Hades’s lips twitched as he replied, “I had a… decent teacher.”

“Descent–” he sputtered. How many times has my fashion expertise gotten you laid? He wanted to ask, but they were interrupted by a knock at the door. 

“Come in,” Persephone said quickly. 

Ilias entered the room, looking very confused. 

“Sorry to interrupt… whatever this is,” he said. “Hades, you’re needed.”

Hades hesitated only a moment before turning toward Persephone. 

“I love you,” he said and then basically fucked her mouth. 

Hermes’s mouth began to water and he swallowed hard. 

Fuck me, he thought, staring down at his growing erection which was now pressing against the black fabric of Aphrodite’s gown. 

Down, boy, he willed, but his dick didn’t listen—of course it didn’t. Meanwhile, the two lovebirds stared longingly into each other’s eyes. They act like they don’t fuck every day, multiple times a day. 

He sighed. 

I want that kind of love. 

Maybe. 

Actually, it sounds like work. I hate work. 

Hades cast him a dark look and then left with Ilias. 

Persephone turned her attention to him, her eyes falling to where his hands rested–over the bulge of his cock. 

“Really, Hermes?” she asked. 

“Don’t kink shame me,” he said. “I can’t help that I like to watch.”

Persephone gave an exasperated sigh and then quickly refocused. “So, is that what you’re wearing to the club?”

He looked down. “Absolutely not. I’ll change on the way. Get ready, Sephy. If my dick disturbs you, you’re about to see a lot more!”

Persephone groaned as he reached for his magic and whisked them away. 

***

“That’s what you’re wearing tonight?” Persephone asked. 

Hermes looked down at the outfit he’d chosen–a white shirt, gray jacket, and dark jeans. 

“What’s wrong with my outfit?” he asked. 

“You look like an accountant,” she said.

Leuce and Zofie exchanged a look before the water nymph asked, “What’s an accountant?”

“Someone who really likes finances,” said Sybil.

“I thought the point was to blend in,” Persephone continued. “You look like you’re prepared to do taxes.”

“I’ll do your taxes,” he said in a suggestive voice, waggling his brows. 

“First, that isn’t a pickup line. Second, Hades will kill you, Hermes.” 

The God shifted back into his seat, crossing his arms. “It’s not about the outfit, Sephy. It’s about what’s under it.” 

“Then why did you spend so long insisting I swear something sexy?”

“Because the rules for women are different.”

“That’s stupid,” said Sybil. 

“I didn’t make them,” Hermes said. 

“Yes, but you reinforce them,” said Persephone. 

“You can’t walk into a sex club looking like…”

“An accountant?” Sybil supplied. 

Hermes hesitated for a moment. “I see what you mean, but in my defense, we are on a mission. All the women will be dressed like… most of you.”

He couldn’t say the same for Zofie who, even in a corset and pants, still managed to look like she could break him in half with one hand. 

He kind of liked the thought.

“All of this will be worth it if we catch Helen here and learn what she is doing with Triad.”

Hermes had to admit that while Triad had always been a thorn in the side of every Olympian, their actions had escalated into something far more threatening and it was all because of Theseus. The son of Poseidon was growing bolder and bolder, their previous antics only jabbed, the new ones drew blood.

Hermes didn’t think he’d ever forget the way Harmonia had looked after she’d been rescued from Concordia Park—not her bruises or mutilated horns. 

Things were different now.

He wondered what might have happened had Zeus taken Triad more seriously from the start, but the God of the Skies had not cared when the hate group was targeting and hurting other mortals. It was a cleanse, survival of the fittest, he’s said.

At one time, Hermes might have agreed, but ancient times were different. Then, the afterlife was far more mysterious and Hades, far less attentive, which made his realm a wilder place. Mortals lived to die, which meant worship was integral to their daily lives no matter the cruelty of the gods.

Now mortals lived to live and to many, that meant freeing themselves from the will of the Gods. Despite the steady swell of Triad’s popularity, Hermes had not considered them a true threat—but that was before Harmonia.

That one attack proved they could get close enough to hurt a god and he wondered who would die next. 

He was brought from his dire thoughts when Antoni came to a stop. Hermes hopped out of the limo, unprepared for the cold, though he should have expected it. Fucking Demeter he thought, though it did instantly kill the boner he’d been sporting since leaving the Underworld. 

He turned to help Sybil, Leuce, and Persephone out of the car despite Antoni exiting the driver’s seat to do the same. Zofie was the last to emerge, but when she saw Hermes extended hand, she slapped it away. 

“Ouch,” Hermes whined, holding his hand close to his chest. He should have let Antoni have her. “You could just say no thank you.”

“Why would I thank you?” Zofie asked. 

“Because that’s the polite thing to do when someone offers to help, Zofie,” said Hermes.  

“But I did not ask for your help,” she said.

“I was being nice!”

“Is it nice to help when it is unwanted?” she asked. “Or is it…what do you say? Annoying.” 

Hermes glared. “I don’t like you.”

“Can you two finish this argument later?” asked Persephone. “It’s freezing.”

“Enjoy your evening,” Antoni said.

“I’ll call when we’re ready,” Persephone promised. Antoni offered a single bow and then returned to the driver’s seat.

“I don’t see a sex club,” said Leuce, glancing down the street which was lined with a mix of unassuming shops. The one they happened to be standing in front of was a restaurant. Next to it, a bar. Both businesses were actually owned by Club Aphrodisia and they offered a more discreet way of entering the club but Hermes preferred the direct entrance.

“It’s around the back,” he said, leading them down an alleyway to an unmarked door where two men stood. Hermes was familiar with both men. One was Nikolaos and the other was Konstantin. They’d been bouncers here for a long time but they’d never participated in club activities—no matter how often Hermes had asked…begged…whatever.

“Good evening, Lord Hermes,” Nikolaos said. “You have an entourage tonight I see.”

Konstantin nodded in acknowledgement but quickly averted his eyes, though the mortal had never held his gaze for very long. Hermes wasn’t sure why. The only thing he could think was that he found Hermes insanely attractive and was therefore, too nervous. 

“All friends,” Hermes said as the two checked everyone’s identification.

“Of course,” said Nikolaos, reaching to open the large metal door where they were met by Sebastian. He was the manager of the club. He liked to be called Master, though there was nothing exactly domineering about the balding, round-faced mortal. 

“Ah, Master Hermes,” he said with a warm smile. “Welcome.” 

“Sebastian,” Hermes nodded. 

The mortal’s eyes shifted to Persephone, Sybil, Leuce, and Zofie. 

“You’ve brought guests,” he said. His brows rose high. “Women.” 

“Yes,” Hermes said. “These are my friends. You have heard of the Lady Persephone. She is soon to marry Hades.” 

Sebastian’s brows rose even higher. If they could, they would have left his face entirely. 

“Of course,” he answered, his voice trembling nervously. “How could I be so blind to your beauty? I did not know that Lord Hades shared.” 

Even Hermes cringed at the interest in his voice.

“He doesn’t,” Persephone said sharply.

Hermes choked on a laugh, drawing Sebastian’s attention.  “And these are her friends—Sybil, Leuce, and Zofie.” 

“We are truly honored,” Sebastian replied. “I hope you find your time here pleasurable. Follow me.” 

The Master turned and led them upstairs to Hermes’s suite. Persephone elbowed him in the side. Hermes glared at her and was about to ask why everyone seemed to have an affinity for hitting him in the ribs when she spoke. 

“Never been here before, huh?” she asked, brow raised.

“Only a couple times,” he said.

“Only twice and you are so well known?” 

He offered her a sly grin. “What can I say? My skills are legendary.” 

She rolled her eyes like she didn’t believe him and elbowed him harder than the last time. 

“Ouch!” Fucking elbows. “What? I have had lots of practice!” 

She shook her head but he could see the slight smile on her face as she looked away. 

They came to his suite which was aptly named craving and entered. While Hermes was well known here, it had actually been a while since he’d been to this particular club. Hades had kept him busy running around the whole of New Greece burning balls and warehouses to the ground which left little time for sex.

It was a good thing he found the former pleasurable.

Hermes turned his attention to Persephone, who had wandered to the balcony. She would probably argue that she wasn’t interested in what was happening on the floor below—which was just a lot of fucking—but her expression said otherwise. 

She was intrigued. 

“So what do you think?” Hermes asked as he came to stand beside her.

“It’s… different,” she answered like she couldn’t find the right words. 

“Not as seedy as you thought?”

“No. It’s actually kind of tame.” 

“See anything you’d like to try?” he asked, lifting his brows. 

Persephone cast him an annoyed glance. 

“I mean with Hades,” he added quickly. 

Persephone ignored him, scanning the floor. 

“Where do you think this meeting is taking place?” she asked, quickly focusing on the task at hand.

“I suppose it depends on the kind of meeting she’s having,” he said.

It was possible Helen was just meeting a member Triad here for a single sexual encounter and nothing more.

“Some things never change,” said Leuce as she, Sybil, and Zofie joined them at the balcony, observing the mass orgy below. It was true that Greek society had always looked favorably on sex, conducing such gatherings during symposiums where attendees drank wine, joked, and fucked.

“Quick, cover your eyes, Zofie,” Leuce said.

“Why?” she asked. “I am familiar with sex.” 

Hermes was only surprised because it was Zofie. Despite being an Amazon, she did not act like she had any interest in sex but perhaps her interest just did not extend to men.

“What?” Zofie asked, defensively. “I may not know modern society, but sex is not modern.” 

“You’ve had sex?” Leuce asked. 

“Of course,” Zofie said, exasperated. 

“But… we played Never Have I Ever,” Leuce said. “And you didn’t drink! Not once!” 

Zofie was quiet before she admitted, “I think I misunderstood the game.” 

The women laughed and for a while they spoke among themselves and watched the floor for any sign of Helen and while she never appeared, Hermes did start to notice people disappearing. It would have been normal if they were going upstairs where there were several suits, both public and private. Instead, they seemed to be going down.

“Where do you think they’re going?” Sybil asked. 

“I don’t know,” Persephone answered. 

“Shall we investigate?” Hermes asked. 

“Someone needs to stay and watch for Helen,” Persephone said. “Sybil, Leuce—will you watch for her and text when she arrives?” 

“Of course,” Sybil said. 

“Zofie, I need you to stay here with them.” 

“My orders are to protect you, my lady.” 

“Actually, I swore an oath to protect her tonight,” said Hermes. “You will forgive me for not trusting anyone else to do so.”

The Amazon glared at Hermes and started to protest when Persephone interrupted. 

“Zofie, this is important. I am ordering you to protect my friends. If Helen is here with Triad and she recognizes any of us, we’re in trouble.” 

Hermes didn’t think Zofie was breathing. 

“Very well, my lady,” she said, her gaze like a dagger to his heart.

When Persephone wasn’t looking, he stuck his tongue out at the Amazon before skipping out of her reach to retrieve a couple of cloth masks. They were a common adornment on the floor of any sex club and would gratefully provide them with some anonymity. Hermes secured his first and then handed one to Persephone who slid it into place before they left the suit. 

He paused in the hallway and turned to her. 

“Do as I do,” he instructed and took her arm as they walked onto the floor. He did not wish to draw attention, so they were going to have to take their time and appear interested in the various activities and performances. Not that Hermes wasn’t interested, but now was not the time to entertain his dick even if it was the right place. 

They emerged from the dark to a threesome—two women and a man. The ladies faced each other, one riding the man’s face, the other his cock. Now and then they reached for each other’s breasts or shifted close to kiss. Another couple made out on a velvet couch, touching through clothes they had yet to shed. Not everyone had sex, though. Some watched from the bar while others played pool, pausing now and then to gaze out at the floor or watched porn as it streamed on screens throughout the club.

It was casual, comfortable, safe—which made this location an even stranger option for Triad’s treasonous meetings.

They passed a round bed where a man sat between the legs of a woman, gazing at them with lustful eyes.

“Would you like to join?” he asked.

Hades felt Persephone stiffen.

“We’re more than happy to watch,” said Hermes quickly.

His eyes gleamed, pleased with the suggestion and went down on the woman whose body arched beneath his mouth.

Hermes had no preferences when it came to sexual partners. He liked everyone and everything. Generally, he felt there was something beautiful about watching someone come, especially if he was the giver of that shattering pleasure.

They lingered before the two, watching but not watching—glancing from side to side as people in masks wandered from the bar or the shadow of a sitting area into the darkness and did not return.

It was Persephone who moved first and soon they found themselves in a long hallway full of flickering, low light. Ahead, Hermes could see a man standing in a suit. He was meant to blend in with his surroundings, wearing all black and a full-face mask.“My lady,” he said as Persephone approached.

Hermes released Persephone’s arm and allowed her to walk ahead. The man offered his hand and helped her down the steps. Hermes nodded as he passed the attendant but kept his gaze on Persephone as she entered the crowded room ahead. It was set up like a theater with tiered seats, but most people were gathered on the floor, crowding close to the stage.

It was the stage that drew Hermes’s attention because there, laying restrained and bleeding upon a black slab was a goddess. It was Tyche, sweet and wise, revered across New Greece, honored and worshiped for her influence on prosperity in all areas of life. 

A sudden cold paralyzed his chest and he was overwhelmed by a weakness in his limbs. Of all the gods, she was among the least threatening, having little interest in vengeance–and yet she was the one this group of vigilantes had chosen to torture. 

His shock ebbed and turned to anger as the crowd continued to heckle her and suddenly, he grew far more anxious. When he and Persephone had first discussed this visit to Aphrodisia, he had expected to crash a meeting, not an execution. 

“That is Tyche,” Hermes said as he came to stand beside Persephone, feeling far more protective and worried than before.

Persephone startled, but recovered quickly. 

“Tyche, the Goddess of Fortune and Prosperity?” she asked, her voice was low.

“The only one,” he said, wondering how she had ended up here.

“What are we going to do?” Persephone asked. 

“We wait,” said Hermes as much as he did not wish to, as much as he wanted to save her now. “We do not know who or what is on their side.” 

If he was alone, he might have handled the situation differently but he had to think about Persephone. Plus, there was more to be learned tonight—like who was responsible for this atrocity. 

More and more mortals filtered into the room. The space grew louder and warmer and the more people crowded Hermes, the more he wanted to call up his magic and cast a protective net around him and Persephone, but he knew if he did, he would catch the attention of the divine and he did not wish to do that just yet, even though their taunts of Tyche were growing worse and worse by the second. 

Hermes drew nearer to Persephone, tightening his hold. He felt like he was surrounded by explosives and at any moment, they might detonate. 

That feeling only grew worse when the crowd began to applaud and cheer when a demigod walked on stage.

“That is Okeanos,” Hermes said, recognizing his parentage immediately, mostly because of the arrogant expression on the fuckers face. 

“Who is Okeanos?” Persephone asked.

“He is a son of Zeus,” Hermes said. “He has a twin, Sandros. They are not usually far from each other.”

He scanned the stage, expecting to see his other half but for now, there was only Okeanos, who scowled at Tyche as he paced around her still and bloody form before he stopped abruptly, took one of her horns in hand, and broke it off with a sickening snap.

The sound was followed by a roar of cheers. 

Hermes held Persephone harder, though he wasn’t sure if it was to keep her from reacting or himself. Inside, he quaked with fury but there was also fear. They were in the middle of a hostile room of mortals who had managed to kidnap a goddess and he was the only thing standing between them and Persephone. 

Okeanos broke Tyche’s second horn just as easily as the first and he held them over his head as he walked the stage. The cheers grew so loud, all Hermes could hear was a ringing in his ears. 

Finally, the crowd quieted as Okranos tossed the horns aside and spoke. 

“The Olympians make a mockery of power!” he exclaimed. “They parade around, celebrities more obsessed with their image and their wealth and hurting mortals than granting your desperate prayers.” 

As the son of Zeus spoke, he pointed to the crowd, riling them up more and more. 

“It is a tale older than time. Gods outlive their usefulness to the world and must be replaced by new ones, those who understand it and see its potential. We are those gods. It is time to take back our world.” 

This fucker really was a son of Zeus and just as stupid.

Hermes’s gaze shifted when he noticed movement from Tyche. The goddess’s fingers were twitching and her head shifted from side to side. 

Okeanos noticed, too, and approached, still spewing his hate. 

“We will have a rebirth! A new world where your prayers are answered, where the gods intercede only when asked, where they heal and do not hurt, but the price is dire.” 

Hermes’s heart beat harder in his chest as the demigod picked up a blade near Tyche’s head. So This was an execution. 

Okeanos lifted the blade, posing a final question to the crowd. 

“Are you willing to pay?” he asked. 

And then Hermes heard Persephone.

“No!” she screamed and her magic burst to life, freezing everything and everyone except Okeanos. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! 

The demigod’s gaze zeroed in on Perseohone and so did his power as he summoned lighting and sent a bolt straight for her. 

Hermes moved to push Persephone just as she lunged out of the way. He caught the bolt in his hand and the magic melted into his own as he aimed to send that and more barreling back at the demigod–but suddenly, Aphrodite appeared, dressed exactly as she had been earlier. 

She extended her hand and Okeanos’s entire body arced as his heart burst from his chest, flying into Aphrodite’s hand. 

“Fucking Fates, Aphrodite!” Hermes exclaimed. 

But the goddess did not seem to notice him or the fact that the mortals were now mobile once again. 

“Gods!” someone yelled. “There are gods among us!” 

“Hermes!” Persephone cried. “Get Tyche!” 

He hesitated for only a moment, weighing the possibility of helping Tyche to safety and returning in time to retrieve Persephone, but when he looked toward the stage, mortals were already descending upon her, intent on finishing what Okeanos had started. 

He glanced back at Persephone, who was near Aphrodite—the goddess of love was more than capable of protecting herself and Persephone and it wasn’t like Sephy was helpless…

Except you swore a fucking oath. 

Fuck me. Fuck me so fucking hard and not in a good way, Hermes said aloud before teleporting to the stage. 

His presence near Tyche only seemed to encourage the mortals as they scrambled for him. Hermes summoned his blade and gathered his magic, racing around the stage in a blinding ray of light, plunging his sword into mortal after mortal. He reveled in the feel of their blood as it sprayed against his skin, rage boiling over as Tyche lay dying behind him while Persephone stood surrounded by murderous mortals in front of him. 

But he could feel Persephone’s magic gathering in a powerful wave and just as it exploded, he raced to Tyche’s side and took her away to the very top of Mount Olympus where no one save the gods could reach her. Once there, he knelt to the ground and called for Apollo. 

His brother appeared quickly and so did Hestia, Goddess of Hearth and Home. She was clad in white robes and pushed back her hood, golden eyes wide as she knelt beside Tyche. 

“What happened?” she asked, her voice frantic with worry.

Tyche was a close friend of Hestia’s—so were many gods. 

Apollo met Hermes’s gaze. “Just like Harmonia,” he said. 

Hermes nodded once. “I must go,” he said. “Stay with her. I will return!” 

He left for the theater beneath the club, intent on carrying Persephone away from the rioting crowd but when he arrived, he found that she was on her knees surrounded by broken bodies. Blood dripped from her mouth in a steady stream to the floor and she looked as if she had been torn to shreds. 

A horrible numbness ricocheted throughout his body as he tried to understand what had happened. 

Two seconds, he thought. I was gone for two seconds. 

“Perseph–” he started toward her but then Hades appeared, his back to Hermes. He wanted to speak, to say something—but there were no words, nothing that would make this better. Nothing would make this okay. 

He had sworn an oath, and he was witnessing that oath crumble into nothing. 

His word, it was now meaningless. 

He watched Hades gather Persephone into his arms and vanish. Alone, the god turned in a circle observing the dead, many looked as if they had been disemboweled, their inside splayed across the floor. 

This was a battle lost by both sides.

Suddenly, Hermes heard a faint cough. His eyes narrowed in the direction of the sound and as he made his way closer, his gold sandals stuck to the drying blood. 

He found the source of the sound—a man with dark curly hair. Hermes pushed him onto his back, recognizing him as Jaison, Lexa’s former lover. He did not know the mortal well beyond that, but it wasn’t difficult to understand why he was among the dead here now—he had chosen a side in the aftermath of Lexa’s death. 

A death Sephy had tried to prevent and made the ultimate sacrifice for—and yet this is how he repaid her. 

“Please,” he said, though the words were garbled from the amount of blood in his mouth. 

“Do not beg me for life, mortal,” said Hermes. “You forfeit yours the moment you challenge my friend.”

Jaison’s eyes were all black. There was no chance he would survive without divine intervention, but Hermes was not that god. 

He summoned his golden sword and plunged the blade into the mortal’s heart. He did not breathe again. 

***

Hermes knew he would have to face Hades. It would be better if he went to the God of the Dead rather than wait to be found. It wasn’t even that he wished to avoid punishment. He knew he deserved it. It was that he was ashamed to face Hades, ashamed to face Persephone. Yes he had sworn an oath, but these were also his friends—the two people who had helped him feel less alone and he had failed them.

He left the club and teleported to Olympus where he went in search of Tyche, finding her in the Healing House with Apollo and Hestia. 

He knew immediately that he was too late, that Tyche was already dead, because her body was shrouded in black. 

Another person he had failed. 

Apollo stood while Hestia sat beside her, hands folded over Tyche’s. Quiet tears streamed down her face. Hermes placed a hand on her shoulder. 

After a few quiet moments, the goddess spoke.

“How did this happen?” she asked. 

“I am not entirely sure,” said Hermes. 

“Her horns are missing,” said Apollo. “Just like Harmonia.”

“A demigod broke them,” said Hermes. “Aphrodite killed him.”

“A demigod?” Hestia asked, looking at Apollo and then at Hermes. “Whose son?”

“Okeanos,” said Hermes. “Zeus’s son, but there are others. They lead Triad and they have recruited many misguided mortals.”

“Then we must tell Zeus,” she said. “He will want to know that his children are killing gods.” 

“You think he does not know?” asked Apollo. There was a biting edge to his voice. 

“It is possible,” said Hermes. “He only looks down upon the world when he’s eager for a new fuck.” 

Despite that, Hermes agreed with Apollo. It was not likely Zeus would care much about what his numerous sons and daughters were doing, even as they conspired against him. It wouldn’t be the first time, and no one had ever succeeded. Tyche’s death was tragic, certainly, but Zeus was not in the habit of defending minor gods and yet Hermes knew it was only a matter of time before they targeted an Olympian.

“You should summon Hecate,” Hermes said to Hestia. “She will want to perform funeral rites.” 

Hermes started to leave, but Apollo stopped him. 

“Where are you going?” 

“I have to make sure Sephy’s okay,” he said. 

At the mention of Persephone, Apollo paled. 

“Was she hurt?” he asked, letting his arms fall to his sides. 

“Yes,” he said. “And it’s all my fault.” 

***

Even before Hermes arrived at the Island of Lampri, he could feel Hades magic. It was like a storm, raging around him. The God of the Dead was angry but he was also afraid–and the fear made him dangerous. 

The feeling only grew worse when he appeared before the God of the Dead, his magic now a physical weight, anchoring him in place. 

It was really the first time Hermes understood what it must be like to come to the gates of the Underworld, to bear witness to this god whose presence filled rooms and smothered light. 

He was fearsome but probably worse than that, he was hurt–and Hermes was responsible for that. 

Fuck.

At this moment, he hated himself. 

Hermes noticed Hades’s fists tighten and before the god could approach, he spoke. 

“Before you begin, you should know that Tyche is dead.”

Hecate gasped. It was the first time Hermes had looked at her since he arrived and she was clearly shocked. She dropped her hand from her mouth, brows furrowed with concern. 

“How?” she asked.

“We do not know,” Hermes said. “I… took her to Apollo.”

It was a mistake to say those words aloud because in those seconds he’d been gone, something had happened to Persephone. 

“You left her,” Hades accused, taking a step toward him. 

“Persephone ordered me,” Hermes said and he knew her–Persephone would have never wanted him to leave Tyche. 

“I ordered you to protect her,” Hades continued, his voice shaking as it rose. His magic summoned sharp spires from the tips of his fingers. “You swore an oath.”

“I know,” Hermes whispered, letting eyes fall to the floor. He could no longer hold Hades’s gaze which was full of hatred. It made his eyes water. “I failed.”

Hades forced Hermes to meet his gaze again, wincing through blurry vision as the sharp tip of his thumb settled just below his eye. 

“I failed,” Hades said. 

Hades did not need to say anything more. Hermes knew exactly what he was saying. Hades had failed because he’d trusted him. 

A cold trail of blood raced down his cheek and pressure built behind his eyes. He wanted to close them, to beat down this pain. Nothing was worse than this–not even what Hades did next. 

“I will never forget this night and neither will you,” he said. Then he stabbed his thumb into Hermes cheek. 

He thought he had prepared himself for the pain. He had been injured countless times by countless weapons, but there was something supernatural about this wound. It felt like his skull was being split in two and simultaneously incinerated. 

A horrible sound escaped his mouth, though Hermes did not think he even deserved to express his pain. This was a just punishment for his broken oath. 

Hades continued to drag the spike down his face to his lips when he stopped abruptly and shoved him away. Hermes shook as he stumbled back. Large drops of his blood splashed as they hit the ground. He held Hades’s gaze, even as he covered his wound, feeling the swollen and severed skin beneath his hand. 

“Do not worry,” said Hades. “That will be the last oath you ever have to make.”

He hadn’t needed the reminder. It was the worst part of all of this—that Hades would never trust him again. He swallowed hard and, knowing he was on the verge of breaking, vanished before the god could see his tears fall.

“Smash them, do not whip them! They are potatoes, not a torture victim, Hades!” Persephone could hear the heavily-accent voice of Milan in the dining room. She raised a  curious brow as she pushed the door opened to the kitchen where she found Hades and Milan  standing at the kitchen island. Milan lingered on Hades’ right, aged face contorted into a  frustrated scowl as Hades stood over a bowl, potato masher in hand, looking just as irked. He had  shed his suit jacket, rolled up the sleeves of his button up, and wore a white apron.  “I am doing the best I can given your instruction, Milan,” Hades snapped.  “What are you implying?”

“You said to mash them, I’m mashing them!” 

“I said smash! There is a difference!” 

Hades threw the potato masher—one minute, it was in his hand, the next, it had come to a  spot at Persephone’s feet. 

“There is no difference between smash and mash!” he growled, turning on the head cook.  “Smash is rough, mash is smooth!” Milan exclaimed, throwing up his hands.  Persephone had never seen any of Hades’ staff become frustrated with him before, save Hecate, and she hardly counted as help. She bent to pick up the masher Hades had thrown.  “If you say smash one more time—” Hades warned, his eyes furiously alight. “Smash! Smash! Smash!” Milan stomped his foot for emphasis and Persephone almost burst into laughter, but Hades lifted his hand, and she felt his magic stir. She took that moment to  make her presence known by clearing her throat. The two froze, whipping their heads around.  “What’s going on here?”

Hades dropped his hand, and the two turned fully toward her, hands behind their backs.  They reminded her of children who had been caught stealing cookies straight from the pan.  “Nothing,” they said in unison. 

“Really?” Persephone asked, holding up the potato masher she had snatched from the  floor. “Because it looks like you're taking cooking lessons, Hades.” 

The two just stared, and then she narrowed her eyes. 

“And being incredibly rude to Milan.”

The cook glanced at Hades, bushy brows narrowing in contempt, and then bowed to  Persephone. “Thank you, my lady.”

“He is the expert. You should really listen—after all, you were the one who asked for  cooking lessons.”

“I did not ask,” Hades paused, frustrated. “I thought you were practicing.” “I’m on my way now,” she said, approaching the kitchen island. 

“Then why are you here?”

She raised a brow at Hades' question, and she had to admit, it surprised her a little. He had  never been unhappy to see her. She had come to kiss him goodbye before heading off to see  Hecate, and now she hated that she regretted her decision. 

“Saving Milan, apparently,” she snapped. 

At her tone, Hades expression changed—going from frustration to a flicker of hurt.  “And for that, I am grateful,” Milan said, placing his hand over his heart, as he inclined  his head. Hades scowled. 

She smiled at him before placing the potato masher on the counter. She met Hades’ gaze.

“I came to kiss you goodbye,” she said. “But I think I’d rather avoid your mouth for  today. It hasn’t been very kind.”

Hades' lips twitched. “Oh, but darling, I’m certain you prefer when it is wicked.” Persephone was not amused—how could he be so arrogant in the face of her anger?  Milan coughed, and Hades turned toward him. “A moment?”

“Of course,” Milan said, though he glared at Hades as he spoke. Then he turned to  Persephone and bowed again. “My Lady.”

He exited the kitchen, leaving them alone—the island between them. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, and he sounded sincere. It was progress given Hades did not always offer an apology, or acknowledge when he was wrong. 

“You should apologize to Milan.”

“Right now, I am apologizing to you.”

She stared. He knew what she wanted—an explanation. Slowly, Hades was becoming  accustomed to explaining himself. He took a breath and lowered his eyes to the counter. “I… was trying to surprise you,” he admitted, voice low, as if he feared the Fates  themselves might hear what he had to say. 

Persephone’s brows rose. “Surprise me?”

“With dinner.”

Something really warm unfurled in her chest. 

“I’m not… good… at not being good at things,” he kept going. “And I… really wanted this  to be good.”

“Hades,” Persephone whispered his name and it drew his gaze. “Why did you want to  surprise me?”

His brows drew together, as if he didn’t understand why she would ask such a question as  he said, “Because… I love you.”

She smiled. “And that’s why, no matter what, the dinner will be perfect.”

Hades stared, and after a moment, his eyes darkened. She recognized that look—it was  predatory, and the air grew thick with desire. Persephone took that as her cue to leave—she  had promised Hecate they would practice, and she couldn’t count the number of times she’d been  late because of Hades.

As she backed away toward the door, the God of the Dead came around the island.  “Where are you going?” he asked, gliding toward her.

“I have lessons,” she said. “Hecate is expecting me.”

“She will understand if you are late,” Hades said, helpfully. 

“But, as I understand it, you have a dinner to prepare,” she replied.

“Do I? The surprise is ruined now.”

“It is hardly ruined,” Persephone scoffed. “I am excited, my expectations are high, and  I am eager to taste your…” She couldn’t help it. Her eyes dipped down his body, eyeing the  growing bulge of his trousers. “Masterpiece.”

Just as she finished, her back hit the door. Hades arms cage her, braced against the frame.  His lips slanted over hers, but did not touch as he whispered, “Are you now?” “Yes,” she breathed. 

“Then I will take pleasure from watching you indulge,” he promised. 

There was a brief moment of silence as they stood together, wavering between parting  ways and coming together. If he closed the distance, pressed his lips to hers, Persephone knew  she would yield. He could take her anywhere in this kitchen—feast upon her body as much and as long as he wanted. She would let him sate her and when he could no longer move, she would  devour him. 

“Persephone?” Her name was a rough growl. 

“Yes?”

“If you don’t leave for lessons now, I’m going to fuck you.”

She swallowed hard. “Is that supposed to scare me away?”

“No.

A second more past, and just as Hades went to reach for her, Persephone pushed through the door, laughing as she went. 

Hades let out a growl. “Persephone…”

A thrill shivered through her at the sound of her name on his lips. She would hear it again  later, after dinner, as he sheathed himself inside her. 

“I’ll see you at dinner,” she said. “Save room for dessert.”

Carnival—or Apokries, as it was still known in a few New Greek cities—was tonight, and Persephone did not know what to wear. She had been thinking about the weeks-long celebration over the past few days as it was impossible to walk down any street in New Athens without seeing colorful banners and ribbons that drew attention to parades, dances, and concerts, all of which encouraged attending the upcoming festivities in costumes that maintained anonymity because Carnival was about freedom.

As much as Carnival encouraged inhibition, it also celebrated Dionysus, God of Wine and Fertility, who inspired fun and frenzy. It would be a night of chaos, and Persephone was not yet sure how Hades would feel about her joining the insanity—especially the Grand Parade, one of the most popular events of Carnival. 

“What about… a sexy lion?” Hermes suggested, peeking out from inside her closet wearing a set of furry ears. He’d wandered in there five minutes ago shouting out costume ideas. She had shut down each one. They were in the queen’s suite, which Persephone used only to prepare for special events. Hecate sat on the edge of the pristinely made bed. The white bedding stood out brightly against her dark robes.

Persephone raised a brow at Hermes’s ears. “Where did you get those?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Listen—bodysuit, fishnets, heels…”

He stepped out of the closet dressed exactly as he had described.

“Rawr,” he said, batting his hand at her.

Persephone laughed. “I think you have found the perfect costume for you.”

Hermes turned to look in the mirror. “I do look good, don’t I?”

“You could go as a witch,” Hecate suggested, arms crossed. “Though, I abhor those pointed hats.”

“Why?” Persephone asked, curious.

Hecate explained that witches once wore bonnets as a symbol of their status in the community, but over time, mortals corrupted witchcraft and the bonnets became a symbol of persecution. The hat itself evolved and was now pointed and wide-brimmed. 

“It only takes a single lie to decimate an entire culture,” she added, and those words made Persephone shiver.

“Perhaps I’ll go as a cat,” she said.

“Oh, yes,” Hecate said, clapping her hands. “My favorite!”

Hecate set about conjuring a mask and a set of ears that would help her remain anonymous. She would need the extra magic in public considering people would likely easily identify her—and it would aid in convincing Hades to let her accompany Hermes for tonight’s festivities.

As if the Goddess of Witchcraft heard her thoughts, she asked, “You have told Hades you are going out tonight, haven’t you?”

“I have already allotted time,” Persephone said.

“Allotted… time?” Hecate paused in her work and looked up, arching a brow.

“To convince him,” she explained.

Hermes snorted. “She means sex. She will convince him with sex.”

Hecate pursed her lips. Persephone knew that look.

“What?”

She shrugged. “I just worry your plan may have the opposite effect.”

“What do you mean?”

“Hades and Dionysus… they don’t exactly see eye to eye.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like I’ll actually see Dionysus, and even if I do, isn’t that what your magic is for?”

“Magic will not quell suspicion, Persephone,” Hecate said. “The gods are curious about you. Especially those who are not fond of Hades.”

Persephone frowned as disappointment settled low in her stomach. She had been looking forward to spending the night with Hermes, Leuce, Sybil, and Harmonia. Though, she should have expected something like this. Hades had history with all the gods and of the numerous ones in existence, they were most often not allies. What was his history with the God of Wine?

Once Persephone was dressed, she teleported to Hades’s office in Nevernight, finding him sitting behind his pristine desk. It looked almost liquid beneath the lights, like the black water of the Styx. She approached, and Hades looked up, his hand stalling over the papers he was signing as his eyes dipped, taking in her attire.

She wore a black silk dress and a matching robe. Both were short and the strapped heels she’d chosen made her legs look long and toned.

“My darling,” Hades greeted, his eyes burning with a dark light.

“What are you working on?” she asked.

Hades set the pen down and pushed the stack to the side.

“Nothing is as important as you,” he said.

She smiled and came around the desk.

“Are you well?” he asked, and his hands landed on her hips, his legs widened to accommodate her body between his.

“I am,” she said, twining her arms around his neck.

Hades’s hands slipped up the silken fabric to settle on her waist, and there was a fire in his eyes as he spoke.

“Why are you dressed as if you belong in my bed?”

Persephone frowned.

“I’m a cat.”

Hades’s lips quirked. “Really?”

“Yes,” Persephone said indignantly and took a step away, placing her ears upon her head. “Let’s not act like I wear clothes to bed.”

Hades offered a wolfish grin and pulled her back to him. This time he drew her close, knees straddling his body, his arousal settled against her center and her breath caught in her chest.

“You could wear this,” he said, his fingers trailed along her shoulder, beneath the collar of her robe until it hung off her shoulder. “I would delight in disrobing you.”

“Perhaps I’ll let you,” she said, her eyes falling to his lips.

Hades’s brows rose. “Perhaps?”

“Yes,” she said. “If you earn it.”

“Hmm.” Hades’s voice vibrated against her chest and she shivered. “And how do you wish for me to work for this privilege?”

His fingers trailed up her thigh and her body heated, making it almost impossible to concentrate on her request.

“It requires no work at all,” she said, breathless.

“Oh?”

“Only permission.”

“Permission?”

“To attend the Grand Parade.”

Hades’s hand froze on her thigh. “The Grand Parade,” he echoed, and swallowed. In the silence that followed, Persephone wondered just how much his mind had spiraled. He was probably considering every possible risk. After a moment, he spoke.

“The square will be crowded. What if someone recognizes you?”

“Hecate charmed my mask,” she explained. “I will be safe.”

Hades continued to frown.

“And I won’t be alone,” she added quickly. “Hermes is going. So is Leuce and Sybil and Harmonia.”

Hades’s mouth hardened, and she knew she’d done nothing to make him more comfortable with the situation.

“If you don’t trust them with my safety, trust me,” she said.

“I trust you, but you underestimate just how obsessive people can be.” He drew a strand of hair behind her ear. “Is it not enough to celebrate in the Underworld?”

“Of course, I love celebrating with the souls,” she said—she’d planned on attending their festivities after the parade. “But Leuce, Sybil, and Harmonia cannot join.”

Hades looked just as defeated as Persephone felt.

“You cannot exist in public as you once did, Persephone, even with magic.”

She knew that was true, but she had hoped that Hecate’s magic would provide an element of normalcy for her, even if it was only for a few hours.

“I know,” she said. “It’s all right. I’ll let Hermes know.”

She started to slip off Hades’s lap when his grip tightened, and he sighed gruffly.

“Go,” he said. “But stay close to Sybil and Harmonia.”

“You do not trust Hermes?”

“Not during Carnival,” he said.

She raised a brow and studied him, feeling conflicted. She did not wish to cause him stress, but she knew she was.“Are you well?”

He watched her and then asked, “Have I earned the right to undress you tonight?”

“You can undress me now.” Her voice went low, a whisper as she drew near to his lips.

He smirked and sat straighter, his cock grinding into her heat, and she gripped him harder. 

“Oh no, darling. I prefer to let the anticipation build.” As he spoke, his lips trailed her jaw and neck.

“What restraint,” Persephone managed.

“It is not restraint,” he said, his hands tightening around her, pressing into her skin, grinding them together. “It is calculated.”

His hand slipped between her thighs, the end of his finger teasing her heat. A stream of air hissed between his teeth.

“Tonight, when I fuck you, I want you dripping.”

“So,” Hermes said, nudging Persephone’s arm with his elbow. “Did you stuff the taco? Slime the banana? Bury the bone?”

“Hermes,” Persephone warned, rolling her eyes. He loved mortal euphemisms because he thought they were hilarious, and sometimes they were, except right now.

“What? I’m just curious if you mounted the—”

“No, Hermes, I didn’t.”

The god folded his arms over his chest. “Obviously. Someone’s testy.” Then he frowned. “He’s not mad, is he?”

“Not mad,” she said.

Definitely not happy.

“Persephone!”

It took her a moment, but her gaze finally landed on Sybil who was shoving her way through the crowd toward her. When she reached her, they embraced, and as they parted, Persephone took in Sybil’s costume. She wore a white shirt, black corset, and a red skirt.

“Are you… a fortune teller?”

Sybil grinned. “It’s funny, isn’t it?”

She took her skirt in her hands and twirled it. It was ironic considering Sybil was an oracle. Persephone’s gaze shifted to Leuce who was dressed as a mummy in a short bandage-style dress, and Harmonia who was dressed as a fawn—her face dusted with freckles and her head crowned with horns. She flinched inwardly, wondering how the Goddess of Harmony felt seeing herself this way, considering she had lost her horns during an assault by members of Triad. 

Persephone hugged each of them, happy to see them outside of work and formal events. Tonight was about existing without worry and easing burdens. Tonight was about fun. 

Suddenly, there was a loud pop and the streets were flooded with confetti which gleamed beneath the streetlamps, and cheers erupted.

“The parade has started!” Sybil said. 

She grabbed Persephone’s hand and pulled her through the crowd as colored smoke billowed and fire flashed. The others followed until they stood on the street where colorful floats rolled along, and streams of people twirled and danced in extravagant costumes, embellished with jewels, feathers, and flowers. A cacophony of music rose and mixed—drums and flutes and trumpets. It vibrated the ground and rumbled through Persephone’s body. 

It was chaos. 

Persephone glanced at Leuce who stood behind her. “Is this how you remember Carnival?”

Leuce had lived in ancient times. She’d only recently returned to the modern world after reverting to her nymph form, having spent the last few hundred years as a tree. 

She smirked. “Surprisingly, it was just as frenzied.”

Frenzy. 

That was the word used to describe any event associated with Dionysus. Even his wines were rumored to inspire the same madness if a mortal consumed too much. The parade was perhaps the best example of his influence—a celebration of uninhibited people who shed clothing as they danced and sang. 

At first, Persephone assumed it was the wine that allowed for such furor, but she had no wine and it wasn’t long before her head began to feel light and heady and a flush warmed her cheeks. 

She stretched, twisting her body. 

“You all right there, Sephy?” Hermes asked. 

“Yes,” she replied breathlessly. “I want to dance.”

Hermes arched a brow. She was not the only one feeling the effects of whatever was inducing her to move her body—beside her Leuce, Sybil, and Harmonia giggled and began to dance, twirling in circles before dragging each other into the thick of the crowd, following along with the parade. 

“Come dance with me, Hermes!” she said and took his hand, dragging him with her. 

“Oh, no, Sephy. You’re not—”

She released his hand and the mob of people swallowed her.

“Sephy!” Hermes said her name in a half whisper, half yell, and though part of her brain knew she needed to stay within sight of the god and her friends, she was too caught up in the madness. 

She danced, her body not moving with anything but the sway of the crowd, and as she continued, perspiration formed on her brow and her silk clothes became damp. Her feet hurt and her lungs began to burn, and still she did not stop—no one stopped. 

They continued dancing until they came to the streets of the pleasure district, familiar to Persephone only because she had traveled along these cobble roads in search of Apollo. Despite recognizing that she had gone too far, that she was now separated from her friends, she could not keep her feet from moving, her body from undulating, her head from spinning—until they came to a large square. At the center was a golden pillar carved with erotic scenes, and at the base was a matching throne and there, sitting bare-chested, legs spread wide, was Dionysus. 

He looked menacing and striking, his dark skin shining with oil and gold glitter. His hair was braided and long, clasped with gold. He wore gold jewelry too—a ring in his nose and caps on his ears, rings on his fingers, cuffs on his arms and wrists. As the square filled with people, he grinned, and offered a single command.

“Worship.”

A carnal hunger took root in every mortal present. It was unsettling to watch—a strange madness that had bodies and mouths colliding and grinding, possessed by a desire that took root through magic, and Persephone did not like it.

Frantically, she searched for an exit as people began to unmask and undress—to expose their skin to the night sky and take bodies into their own, but before she could make her escape, a hand grasped her hair and yanked her head back. A mouth closed over hers, and Persephone dragged her nails down the stranger’s face just as a deafening crack halted the revelry, breaking Dionysus’s spell. Hades’s magic blanketed the courtyard. 

Persephone pushed the man who had accosted her, and he stumbled back before he vanished. Just a few steps from where he had stood was Hades. He rose like a mountain, unyielding, casting a shadow over everything before him—and she ran to him. He folded her into his arms before tilting her face toward his.

“Are you well?”

There was an unsettling energy emanating from his skin and darkening his eyes. She nodded, hoping to quell the violence she knew he wished to unleash.

“What an entrance,” Dionysus commented. His voice was deep and resonant, and it told Persephone that the God of Wine disliked Hades just as much. He had not moved from his throne, but he looked far more menacing. “Did you have to be so dramatic?”

Hades scowled and held Persephone closer. 

“I do not share, Dionysus,” Hades hissed. 

Dionysus looked on in disgust. 

“Toxic,” he said. “The way you possess her.”

“It is not possession,” Persephone said. “And who are you to speak of toxicity? Your magic forces people to fuck.”

“Force implies unwillingness,” he said. “Every mortal here came for this. It is no fault of mine that you did not.”

“Magic takes away choice, Dionysus,” Hades said. 

“Does it? Your lover remained unaffected by my magic because she did not consent.”

“And yet it did not protect her.”

“Is that not what you are for?” he countered. “And if you wish to speak on choice, was it choice that trapped your lover in a contract?”

The question caught Persephone off guard, and she felt heat rise to her cheeks. Beside her, Hades stiffened. 

“Sephy!” Hermes exploded into the square, followed closely by Sybil, Harmonia, and Leuce. They were covered in glitter and streamers and looked just as frazzled as she had felt during the parade. “There you are—oh.” He faltered when he saw the standoff between the gods and the onlookers who stood frozen in various states of undress. 

Hades glared, but before he had a chance to speak, Persephone did. 

“I would like to go home,” she said and curled her fingers into Hades’s jacket. 

He stared down at her, brushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “As you wish.”

Then they vanished. 

“The man who kissed me, where did you send him?” Persephone asked as they appeared in their chamber in the Underworld.

Hades’s jaw tightened and Persephone sighed. She didn’t even need an answer.  

“Release him, Hades.”

He opened his mouth but she did not let him protest. 

“He was consumed by magic.”

“He was consumed by lust,” he said. 

“Hades.” She spoke his name like a short, impatient command, and for a moment, he did not back down, almost seeming to grow larger, more determined to remain rooted in his anger. But after a few moments, he looked away, jaw ticking.

“Fine.” 

She placed her hand upon his face, and when he finally looked at her, she smiled. 

“Thank you,” she said and rose onto the tips of her toes to press a kiss to his lips, but as she pulled away, he still stared down at her, frowning.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. 

“I worry for you,” he said, the tip of his finger brushing along her cheek. “That is all.”

“I’m all right,” she said, adamant. She realized that tonight could have been much worse, but for whatever reason, this particular event had not triggered her, and for that, she was thankful.

“Are you well?” she asked, though she knew he wasn’t—and he did not pretend to be. 

“I will be,” he said. 

She swallowed hard. “Perhaps some time in Asphodel will help?”

They were expected, and Persephone would not disappoint. 

“We do not have to stay long,” she said. 

“Do not let my mood prevent you from having fun,” he said. “This is your first Carnival in the Underworld.” 

She had to admit, she was looking forward to the distraction—and safety—of celebrating with the souls. She loved the liveliness of Asphodel, and when they appeared at the center of the sanctuary of the dead, they were greeted by a round of cheers as they immersed themselves in a wave of costumed souls. The older ones kept their distance, smiling and bowing, but the children ran to crowd them, dressed in an array of costumes from a spider to a jack-o-lantern and even a mini Cerberus. 

From there, the evening spiraled into a round of games with the children, a feast and drinks, and ended with dancing around a bonfire at the center of Asphodel. Persephone danced with the souls while Hades and Hecate watched from afar, and when she grew too warm and tired, she came to a stop and watched the fire burn. 

She felt Hades approach and press a kiss to her bare shoulder before slipping the sleeve of her robe in place.

Persephone bent her head back and found Hades staring down.

“Tired?” he asked.

She nodded. 

He bent and pressed his lips to her forehead. 

“Shall we retire?”

Again, she nodded.

They found themselves in the baths where they watched each other disrobe, and somehow, to Persephone, it felt far more intimate than if they had undressed one another. 

When they were naked, Persephone turned and led the way into the pool, but she stopped on the lowest step and turned to face Hades. He paused, too, and her gaze dropped, roving over the strong and contoured muscles of his shoulders and abs, landing on his erection. 

She took one step up to close the distance between them before she reached for his cock, fisting the base as she took him into her mouth.

Hades exhaled and Persephone met his gaze as she worked the crown with her lips and tongue. He groaned and gathered her long hair into one hand. 

“Take me deep, darling.”

She drew him to the back of her throat—and he filled her there. The pressure built and her eyes watered, and she felt warm with pleasure but also heady from offering him the same feeling. When he pulled out, she was breathless. 

Hades drew her to her feet, his hand was still tangled in her hair, and he pulled her head back to kiss and their tongues clashed. Once again she was left gasping for breath when he released her. 

Without a word, he sat and guided her down onto his length. Persephone moaned at the sweet invasion, her hands pressed flat against his chest as she fully seated herself. Before he moved, Hades pressed her close, one hand coming to rest on her back and the other gripping her neck. He kissed her forehead before leaning back so he could thrust into her, sending threads of pleasure straight to her head. 

Her hands slipped up around his neck and she held on as his momentum captured her breath and warmed her body until perspiration formed on her skin. She began to move with him, increasing the pressure and pleasure until her legs shook with release, and Hades followed soon after. 

They rested a moment before Hades rose and walked them into the water. He did not leave her body, remaining rigid inside her. 

“Better?” she whispered.

“You make everything brighter,” he replied. 

She watched him for a moment and then touched his mouth. 

“And yet you frown,” she said. 

He stared at her and then spoke. The words were slow, as if each one hurt him in some way. “Do you feel that way? As if I trapped you?”

He was talking about what Dionysus had said—the suggestion that Hades had taken away her choice when he had snared her into a contract. 

He must have spent the whole evening agonizing over those words, she thought. 

“You do not like Dionysus?” she asked. 

His brows furrowed. “No.”

“Then you should not let what he says bother you.”

Hades’s lips pressed thin. “You did not answer my question.”

“I did feel trapped in the contract,” she admitted. “But I would not change what I learned—including how to love you.”

He shook his head, slow, the corners of his mouth lifting. 

“What?” she whispered.

“Nothing,” he said and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Nothing. I just love you too.”

Notes:

I wanted to write a Halloween short story for Hades and Persephone but had a bit of a problem—Halloween isn’t really celebrated in Greece, so, instead, I decided to write about Apokries or Carnival (this is almost like Mardi Gras for Americans). Apokries is a three-week celebration that takes place before Lent at the end of February into March. 

Apokries is celebrated differently depending on which region in Greece you are from, but most dress up for the events and there are parades and dances and drinking. Using Apokries also gave me the chance to introduce Dionysus, since the festival once celebrated the God of Wine—now it seems to have transitioned into a Christian celebration. 

Hades sits opposite me. He is dressed in a tailored, black suit. He is perfect—not a hair out of place. Impressive for someone with long, luscious locks. He also appears to be incredibly annoyed to be here.  

INTERVIEWER: “Thank you so much for joining me today, Lord Hades.”  

HADES: sits with his arms crossed, glaring. “Thank Persephone. She...persuaded me.”  

INTERVIEWER: “Of course. She’s so kind.” 

HADES: “Am I not kind?” 

INTERVIEWER: stares. 

HADES: stares. 

INTERVIEWER: clears throat. “We’ll start with some background questions if that’s okay with you.”  

HADES: glares. 

INTERVIEWER: “How many siblings do you have?” 

HADES: glares. 

INTERVIEWER: Um… starts to feel slightly afraid for her life. “Is… do… you not want to answer that question?” 

HADES: pauses for a long time before stating. “I do not need to answer it—you know how many siblings I have.” 

INTERVIEWER: Feels blood draining from her face. She could argue that there are readers who do NOT know, but decides that breathing a little longer is the best choice. “Okay.”  fumbles with her list of questions. “Um, of your siblings, which one are you closest with?” 

HADES: “I dislike them all.” 

INTERVIEWER: “If you had to choose one?” 

HADES: “Hecate.” 

INTERVIEWER: “Hecate isn’t your sister.” 

HADES: glares. 

INTERVIEWER: mumbles: there is a lot of glaring today. “Okay. N-nevermind. Moving on.”

INTERVIEWER: “How is your relationship with your parents?” 

HADES: “My father is constantly tortured in Tartarus.”  

INTERVIEWER: “And… your mother?” 

HADES: “Zeus keeps her.”  

INTERVIEWER: eyes widen. “What does that mean?” 

HADES: shrugs.

INTERVIEWER: Weird “What about your childhood?” 

HADES: Jaw visibly tightens. “I had no childhood.” 

INTERVIEWER: “Because…?” 

HADES: “I was swallowed. By my father.” 

INTERVIEWER: “And how was that?” 

HADES: raises a brow 

INTERVIEWER: Thinks: Is that… amusement I see? 

HADES: “Dark.”  

INTERVIEWER: “Alright, well, moving on. Tell us the story of how you became God of the Underworld.” 

HADES: “There is no story.”  

INTERVIEWER: “There is a story.” I cannot believe I am arguing with the God of the Dead. “They say you drew lots.”  

HADES: “That is a rumor.”  

INTERVIEWER: “Don’t you wish to set the record straight.”  

HADES: “No.” 

INTERVIEWER: glares. “I’m telling Persephone.” 

HADES: narrows eyes. “Are you threatening me?”

INTERVIEWER: “I am doing what Persephone told me to do. She said if you gave any trouble to let her know. Would you want me to go against the word of your future queen?”

HADES: glares. “I chose to rule the Underworld.” 

INTERVIEWER: “Why?” 

HADES: grits teeth. “Because. I was born into war. I saw death every day. Ruling the Underworld would be no different, but at least being their king, I could… have control.” 

INTERVIEWER: mouth open. “That’s… kind of you.” 

HADES: “It wasn’t.” 

INTERVIEWER: clears throat. “Let’s move on. What do you feel is your greatest achievement?” 

HADES: “My… authority.” 

INTERVIEWER: “R-really?” 

HADES: stares. 

INTERVIEWER: “What is the worst thing that has ever happened to you?” 

HADES: “You mean other than being swallowed by my father and born into a ten-year war?” 

INTERVIEWER: “Okay, fair. Tell us about your hobbies.”  

HADES: pulls out a flask. “Drinking.”  

INTERVIEWER: “Is that… a hobby?” 

HADES: “It is my hobby.” 

INTERVIEWER: “Right. Of course, it is.” mutters: alcoholic. “What made you decide Persephone was ‘the one.’ You’ve said that the Fates wove her into your future, but you would have chosen her anyway, how can you be sure?” 

HADES: “I am sure.”  

INTERVIEWER: blinks. “But… how?” 

HADES: takes a swig from his flask. “Let me be clear.” 

INTERVIEWER: mutters. “That would be a first.” 

HADES: raises brow. “I make no decisions based on my gut. No decision that isn’t derived from logic, from evidence, from statistics, but I knew when I saw Persephone that we were balance.”  

INTERVIEWER: rolls eyes internally, thinking: that is such a Hades thing to say. “Why are you obsessed with balance?” 

HADES: shrugs. “Humans and gods are flawed—to attempt to create a utopia would be folly. To forego law would be chaos.”  

INTERVIEWER: “Would the other gods agree? That they are flawed?” 

HADES: “They would agree that I am flawed.”  

INTERVIEWER: “Okay, almost done.” 

HADES: mutters. “Thank gods.”  

INTERVIEWER: glares. “We’re going to play a game of this or that.”  

HADES: glares. 

INTERVIEWER: “Hermes or Apollo?” 

HADES: “That depends.” 

INTERVIEWER: “You have to choose one.” 

HADES: stares. 

INTERVIEWER: sighs. “Whatever, let’s just get this over with, Coffee or Tea?” 

HADES: drinks from flask. “Whiskey.” 

INTERVIEWER: “You are missing the point.” 

HADES: “Or you’re choosing the wrong questions.”  

INTERVIEWER: glares. “Cats or Dogs.”  

HADES: “Dogs.”

INTERVIEWER: “Finally. Freedom or hope?” 

HADES: “Hope.” 

INTERVIEWER: “Why?” 

HADES: “You are missing the point of this game.” 

INTERVIEWER: glares and looks down at her questions. “Well, that was my last question so—” 

HADES: Vanishes. 

INTERVIEWER: “Jerk.”

God of Travelers, Thieves, Merchants, Orators, and Heraldry*

*(He insisted on listing all his titles.)

Hermes sits with his legs crossed, dressed in a light pink t-shirt and pink satin jacket. The ensemble is balanced by a pair of black skinny jeans and white sneakers. He is unbelievably handsome, with golden curls, a beautiful smile, and dimples.

HERMES: “How do I look?” He straightens his collar and jacket.

INTERVIEWER: “Uh, great. You look great.”

HERMES: “Okay, but which side is my best side?” He turns his head slightly to the right and dips his chin, a stray, golden curl falls into his honey-colored eyes. “Or this?” He moves slightly to the left.

INTERVIEWER: “Hermes… you do know this isn’t a… filmed interview?”

HERMES: “Just… answer the question!”

INTERVIEWER: “Um… the right?”

HERMES: Hermes eyes flash, turning brassy. “That was a trick question—you’re supposed to say both. Now I have to turn you into a tortoise.”

INTERVIEWER: Suppresses the urge to ask why he would choose a tortoise. “But… if you turn me into a tortoise, there’s no interview.”

HERMES: Hermes purses his lips as if weighing his options. Finally, his shoulders fall and he slumps in his chair. “Fine.”

INTERVIEWER: Clears throat. “Thank you so much for joining us today, Hermes.”

HERMES: Still pouting, as if he regrets deciding against turning the interviewer into a tortoise, “I guess.”

INTERVIEWER: “Anyway. Would you say your primary role is Messenger of the Gods?”

HERMES: “Well, I wouldn’t say it’s my primary job.”

INTERVIEWER: “Is that because the gods use email and cell phones now?”

HERMES: Glares.

INTERVIEWER: “I mean,” clears throat. “What would you say is your primary job?”

HERMES: Sniffs, lifting his chin. “Well, if you must know, I’ve become quite the confidant in recent weeks.”

INTERVIEWER: “Oh?”

HERMES: “It seems like every time I turn around some god is in need of my listening ear.”

INTERVIEWER: “So, you are the… God of Listening now?”

HERMES: “I’d much prefer God of Hearkening. It compliments my other titles.”

INTERVIEWER: “Of course. Um, who are you… hearkening to?”

HERMES: “Oh, everyone.” Giggles. “I mean, just last week, Persephone confided in me that she had the best sex of her life with Hades. She doesn’t talk about that with just anyone.”

INTERVIEWER: writes Persephone, best sex of life. “Can you tell me more?”

HERMES: “Oh girl. Let me tell you. Apparently, she was showering and who happens to show up? Hades. Just poof! He teleports and sticks his dick in her, shoves her against the tile wall and has his way with her.” shakes head. “And I said. Sephy, that’s fucking hot. I mean. Isn’t that fucking hot?”

INTERVIEWER: raises brows. “That’s pretty fucking hot and… uh, why did she decide to confide in you about this… particular… sex episode?”

HERMES: “Oh, she didn’t decide. She had no choice.”

INTERVIEWER: “I thought you said she confided in you about the best sex of her life?”

HERMES: “She did.”

INTERVIEWER: “Hermes, you do know what confide means, right? Someone chooses to divulge information because they want to?”

HERMES: “I KNOW WHAT CONFIDE MEANS.” He tosses his hair. The curl remains in his eye. “We were playing truth or dare. She said truth, so I said, tell me about the best sex of your life and she confided in me about it.”

INTERVIEWER: blinks. “Next question. What would you say is your biggest accomplishment to date?”

HERMES: “All of them.”

INTERVIEWER: “Like… what?”

HERMES: “You don’t know my accomplishments?”

INTERVIEWER: Tries not to look as irritated as she feels because she doesn’t want to be a tortoise. “Just… give me an example of your… favorite accomplishment. Please.”

HERMES: Presses finger to his chin. “Hmm. Well, I stole Apollo’s cattle.”

INTERVIEWER: “You consider that an accomplishment?”

HERMES: Glares “I was a baby. Did you steal cattle as a baby? I think not.”

INTERVIEWER: “Fair. Let’s see… oh, what’s the best thing about your life?”

HERMES: “Being me.”

INTERVIEWER: “And the worst thing?”

HERMES: Looks pointedly at interviewer. “People who don’t appreciate me.”

INTERVIEWER: “What’s the most important thing in your life?”

HERMES: “My friends.”

INTERVIEWER: “And who would you say is your best friend?”

HERMES: “Oh, that’s easy. Sephy.”

INTERVIEWER: “Do you ever… I don’t know… fear losing someone close to you?”

HERMES: looking very fierce, eyes almost aglow and his jaw tightens. “Yes.”

INTERVIEWER: feeling very uncomfortable. “And, uh… who do you fear losing?”

HERMES: “Why are you asking? Are you threatening Sephy? Because if anything happens to her, Hades has said he will burn the world and I’ll help him torch it.”

INTERVIEWER: “I’m not threatening Persephone. I promise.”

HERMES: Hermes eyes stop glowing and he smiles. “Oh, well then, good. What did you ask? What do I fear losing? I guess my sense of self, mostly. You know, with so many titles, it can be hard to find balance.”

INTERVIEWER: has never wanted to facepalm so hard in her life. “Right. Okay. Let’s just move on to our rapid-fire round.” skips a few questions and shuffles papers, clears throat. “Hermes, what is your favorite day of the week?”

HERMES: “Weekend.”

INTERVIEWER: “Hermes, ‘Weekend’ is not a day of the week.”

HERMES: “Yes, it is.”

INTERVIEWER: Stares.

HERMES: “I thought you said this was a rapid-fire round. I’ve done rapid fire rounds before and there is nothing rapid about this.”

INTERVIEWER: Gets the feeling Hermes is NOT talking about the same kind of rapid-fire rounds. “Cake or pie?”

HERMES: “Pie, duh.”

INTERVIEWER: “Favorite drink?”

HERMES: “Sex on the Beach. J/K… I just like having sex on the beach.”

INTERVIEWER: Stares, blinks a few times, and then returns gaze to the questions. “Uh… Love or Money?”

HERMES: “Money—I can buy love, honey.”

INTERVIEWER: “Piercings or tattoos?”

HERMES: Growls sensually. “Both.”

INTERVIEWER: “What is your favorite color?”

HERMES: “Pink.”

INTERVIEWER: “What do you start your day off with? Coffee or Tea?” 

HERMES: “Alcohol. Who drinks coffee or tea for breakfast?”

INTERVIEWER: Don’t say it… don’t say it… “The world, Hermes. The whole world drinks coffee or tea for breakfast. If you drink alcohol, you’re most definitely an alcoholic.”

HERMES: grinning. “Pot, meet kettle.”

INTERVIEWER: “That’s not…” shakes head. “Nevermind. If you went out with Sephy and lost her, who would you fear telling more? Demeter or Hades?”

HERMES: “Hades. He would cut off my balls and feed them to me. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind balls… but I’d rather not eat my own.”

INTERVIEWER: “And I’m done.”

HERMES: “But wait—are you sure? This was fun.”

INTERVIEWER: Gets up from chair. “Yep. Yes, Hermes. I’m done.”

HERMES: “I can answer more questions.”

INTERVIEWER: “That’s okay. I’ve got everything I need.”

HERMES: “Maybe we can do a part two? ”

INTERVIEWER: “We’ll call you. Don’t call us!”

HERMES: Sits back in his chair, smiling. “I think that went well.”