Page 10 of His in the Dark

HADES

W ith Minox at my side, nearly a shadow of myself, we stride down the hall. Torches burn on the walls, casting flickering patterns of light and shadow on the rough stone floor beneath our feet.

Ages of paths have carved themselves into the worn floor. I’ve travelled this path in all of the times, the hardships and wars, the depths of betrayal and the rise of power. It is my home and my sanctuary and yet I feel that it is not enough. That it is a path I’ve not yet travelled.

We walk in relative silence. The clicking of our footsteps echoes in the quiet of the Underworld. It is late, and my realm has settled around me. An uncomfortability stirs in the depths of me, churning with anticipation of what’s to come with my Persephone.

Her resistance was anticipated and yet the frustration is far more prevalent. To lie beside her and not enjoy her scent, her warmth, her touch… it is torture and it is futile. If only she would realize this I would not have to suffer and neither would she. My patience does not exist when it comes to her. Her arrival has affected far more than just my selfish thoughts.

It is the quiet that’s different. These halls have not been peaceful as of late. The calm that pervades the hallway now is almost eerie in its contrast. Even the flutter of the flames in the sconces whip loudly through the air.

I’ve become too attuned to every sound Persephone makes. All the noises that would have faded out of my notice are prominent. Her screams were an unwelcome disturbance to others though. Others far too close to the God of Thunder.

“The witch was able to cast the spell?”

Minox inclines his head. “Yes, my Lord. No one will hear her screams any longer.”

I give him a terse nod, unsettled from his tone. I’ve avoided my room all day to focus on the tasks at hand and be present for the questing souls, but that doesn’t mean I have avoided Persephone’s screams. At times, I think I can hear them even when it is impossible. Her sheer determination is a match for my own will, but she will bend to mine. She must.

“Can you hear them now?” I question him as she cries out profanity from the distance above us. Attempting spells of wrath that are useless. She must know this and yet her rage has not subsided. I fear it only grows with a simmer of hatred that was not there the day before.

“No, my Lord,” he answers and there’s a tone he takes as he stares straight ahead avoiding my gaze that I don’t care for.

It is no one’s business how I have acquired my Queen.

It’s not uncommon for souls to be shocked and grief-stricken when they arrive in the Underworld, but Persephone is not like them. She burns with hatred and there are whispers of the feminine screams from my chambers.

The sensation of caring about a spell working to its intended effect—that is perhaps more unsettling than all the rest. Still, it’s an unholy mix in my gut.

They may not be able to hear her, but I can. I both revel in the fact that she’s here now, and loathe that she screams in agony. I should know the sound of each breath she takes. I should know the force of each sob that tears from her throat. I should know the rhythm of her heartbeat at every second.

Nothing should be kept hidden from me. Nothing will be kept hidden from me. This is my realm, and she is mine to do with as I please.

Regardless of the whispers and the fear and judgement from those under my control.

I should stop feeling so much about it, or it will consume me.

“Have you learned anything more?” I question Minox. He’s been watching Persephone while I’ve taken to the courts to calm the disturbance. I may not stay in the room to assure her security all day, but I haven’t let her pass the time unobserved.

“She is lonely, my Lord. She cannot seem to stop crying.” He pauses, as if to carefully consider his next words. “Perhaps…companionship?” Minox offers.

I haven't been able to allow it... I do not trust what I wish to do to her. There’s a desire and a temptation that I barely control in her presence. I cannot offer Persephone more companionship than I have already given, or I will shut the door to the bedroom and never emerge again. It is not often I fear for what I may do, but the consequences are severe and the Fates have warned me.

“Or delicacies of another nature?” he suggests in my silence.

As if I have not considered as much already. As if I have not been holding myself back from gifting her delicacies in every flavor possible. Pleasures of the tongue, yes, but also the body. The pleasure of submission. The pleasure of?—

We come to an abrupt stop outside my bedroom door.

A scream tears through the closed door, ringing in my ears.

Minox’s face remains carefully calm. “This is where the spell was cast. No one outside this line will be able to hear her.”

“Good.” The single word is uttered beneath my breath lowly as my hands flex and my muscles tense. She wants war, my beautiful vengeful queen. I’ll be damned if her defiance doesn’t turn me on more than before.

“If you need anything, my Lord?—”

“I know where to find you.” I finish the sentence for him more angered by the disruption of my thoughts than anything. I pine for her. I’ve never desired such sinful addiction as I do now.

“Hades!” She screams my name as if a curse. I fucking love it.

Minox inclines his head again and glides away, disappearing into the shadows before he has left the light of the sconces.

It can't be unnoticed that his footsteps, without mine, are much quieter than the noise we made when we were together. It must have been me who was so loud.

Was I trying to warn her? Was I trying to inspire that titillating flush of fear down the front of her chest?

Did I want her to hear me coming? Did I want her to tremble, and blush, and try to think of some way to escape, any way to escape, before returning to the knowledge that such a thing isn’t possible?

Did I want her body to respond to me, slick between her legs, the damp, pink flesh aching to be touched? Did I want her to get wet, thinking of me, and did I want her resolve to weaken just a little more? My cock hardens at every thought. I ache for her in every way.

Have I fantasized, at least once, about how it will sound when she begs for me?

Of course I have. Before she was even in my grasp I memorized the soft gasp of surprise from her sleep where I stalked her.

Quietly, I enter the room as calmly as possible and close the door behind me. The soft click is all that can be heard over her heavy breathing. Anger simmers in the room, the magic and tension palpable. Persephone has not seated herself at the table, nor stayed in bed. Sometimes, I think of her waiting for me to return, her head held high and her power flowing all around her.

It crackles in the room as she stares at me, her wide eyes red rimmed and her pale skin dull from the chill. The darkness in her eyes has never been so threatening. As if she’s nearly a different Goddess entirely. If only for a moment. Her eyes narrow and she looks away.

She sits at the center of the dark rug midway between the windows and the table. From here, I cannot see much but the top of her head, and the tangle of her hair.

Persephone screams again. It’s more of a complaint than a full-blooded scream. Her voice cracking.

I cross the room to her, ignoring the inappropriately fast beat of my heart. Persephone does not turn her head to watch me. She does not even look me in the eye again although I wonder if the depths of darkness was only a flash… only a sign of what could be.

Thump, thump, my heart races as I get closer and closer to my queen. Heat gathers around every nerve ending.

I stand in front of her, still, for perhaps a minute, then tap my foot on the edge of the rug.

This is all that makes her lift her eyes. The hazel glistens with unshed tears. No longer the pitch black power that met me before.

Persephone says nothing.

I murmur, resisting the urge to lift her chin and force her eyes to meet mine so I may study them. “You wake the dead, my queen.”

She keeps her face tilted toward mine, so there is no ignoring the state of her, which cannot be described by any other word than pitiful. Persephone’s skin is pale. Her eyes are red and swollen. Her cheeks are blotchy from the irritation of her dried tears. Her lips, soaked in the salt, are dry and bitten. And yet, under a thin coat of sadness is rage. I love the rage. I love the sadness. I love the power that echoes beneath them both even more.

“Have you not eaten?” I question, noting she has withered. I cannot imagine she has, looking like this. Persephone shakes her head, confirming my suspicions.

Irritation sweeps its way through me. How can she expect to fight, without caring for her needs? I remind myself that she is not used to the ways of war. A young Goddess compared to I. An innocent in so many ways and although it tempts me, it infuriates me just the same.

That cannot continue, just as the rest of my realm could not continue to hear her scream. With the poison Persephone’s been given…

She must eat and nourish her body and spirit. If she is to stand beside me, she must be well.

With haste, I stride to the table in the corner. A bottle of wine and two glasses appear in the centre as if sensing my attention. With a wave of my hand, the wine appears in the glasses. Spilling from nothing. It’s a delicacy and delight, and the effects of such offerings will ease her tense body. Warm her to my intentions perhaps.

I note that Persephone appears to not watch me. I will never admit how much I loathe not being able to feel her eyes on my back. I grit my teeth and push those feelings to the distance.

As I lift the glasses, the wine sloshes into the bottom of the glass goblets and settles. I take a sip of the first, enjoying the taste for a moment. Then I carry the glass over to Persephone’s place and crouch down in front of her, offering the wine. All she needs to do is lean forward, and I will tip the glass and let the wine spill into her mouth. Goosebumps slip down her shoulder as I stare at her bare skin revealed by the thin straps of her cream silk gown.

Persephone stares at the glass of wine, then looks back into my eyes. I watch her throat as she swallows in defiance.

“Wine for the Gods.” I move the glass a fraction of an inch closer to her. The rough pad of my thumb slips against the delicate and thin glass.

Persephone glances at it again, then shakes her head. “I’ve shattered the glass a hundred times now,” she admits. “I do not care for sustenance.”

“Come, now.” I pull the glass away. My gaze travels along every inch of her skin and I cannot be bothered to have anger within me. Another emotion entirely entraps me. A deep spell of sorts, one of want and pride and weakness. I would bow to such a Goddess. I can feel her power buried so deep down. Come to me my Queen. From the depths of my soul I both beg for the taste of what she is and I remind myself to enjoy each moment that leads me to the first kiss of her power.

“My Queen,” I merely whisper. “You must drink.”

Her eyes flicker after it. I can tell she's struggling not to keep her eyes pinned on it. That’s what I want. I want that fire in her back at the surface. I crave those eyes to be dark and hungry.

If Persephone won’t accept the wine when it’s so easily offered, perhaps she’ll come after it with a challenge. A smirk pulls my lips up.

I offer the glass again, but when she doesn't take it, I move it out of her reach, watching her face for any sign that she’s truly beginning to break.

The next time I offer the glass, Persephone slaps it out of my hand.

I’m delighted—the speed of the slap, the daring act —but I don’t let it show. My heart pumps furiously with heated blood and my cock presses against the fabric of the trousers beneath my cloak.

She is not prepared for my speed, or my reaction. My hand wrapped around her throat. The feel of her blood pumping beneath my touch is everything. Fire to my blood. I keep my grip close enough to her chin that she cannot lower her head. Persephone’s eyes are wider now, and her breathing shallow. Her eyes narrowed with the same hatred as before. They darken and flash with such determined defiance. I can feel every heavy pound of her heartbeat. Persephone swallows. Yet her body remains still. Tense and still.

“You are going to eat,” I tell her, my voice soft as I lower my head to hers. My lips so close to hers. “Because your soul will never leave. You have no choice but to be mine.”

Thump. Thump. Our hearts compete for the symphony that is silence.

Persephone narrows her eyes. Her lips part. She wets her bottom lip with her tongue, every little movement seemingly erotic. I could kiss her until she was panting and begging with need. I could slip my fingers in her mouth and tell her to suck. She may bite me and I would fucking love it.

I continue before she can say a word. “There is no way out of the Underworld.” Persephone’s expression falters. “No one is going to save you but yourself…by choosing to fight.”

She blinks, the fear in her eyes turns to a deeper shock, and then denial.

“How can you fight with your powers so weak and your body even weaker?” I have her with that statement. Persephone confirms that this was her question with a tiny, involuntary flinch.

I offer her something no one else did. How could they, when they were so unaware of how she’s been suffering. “I will teach you magic. I will give you everything…including your powers back.”

The corners of her lips turn down, and her eyes soften.

“I know you’ve suffered loss lately… have you not?”

She stays silent at my question, merely observing me.

“I can make them come back.”

“You can’t?—”

“I can save you from your fate if you give in.” Thump. Thump. The air turns tense between us, a flash of heat and a knowingness that this moment was meant to be.

Persephone swallows again, the movement delicate under my hand. Ever so delicate. I will think of this when I’ve left her again. I will think of that gentle movement, and how her bare throat calls for me to squeeze.

If only she knew what pleasures can be had from submission. If only she would let herself understand.

She watches my face so carefully, like she used to do when I came to her in dreams.

“There are things I can teach you, that you could use for your own survival. For your own reign.”

Her chin comes up a little. The barest of bits. Our faces are so close that I could take her mouth without the slightest effort. At this range, with my hand around her throat, I can read the truth in Persephone’s heartbeat and even the set of her lips.

I want nothing more than to bury myself within her. The pleasure builds within me.

The tension between us is thick and strong, like the currents that pull the spirits to the Underworld. They are connected to the earth and to the Gods from the moment they are born, and they never see the threads that bind them to the beginning and the end of their lives.

Her neck is hot in my grasp. I cannot take my attention from her pulse. My mouth waters with the nearly uncontrollable urge to feel her skin beneath my lips and teeth. Persephone is like a storm about to break. She has no idea how beautiful she would be in her submission, and her power. It is only a matter of time until she bends to my will.

She must be able to feel that . It is the pull of the thin golden strings. I’ve tied the two of us so closely together. She cannot escape it.

I want her cold body, warming under my touch. Blood throbs in my cock, but I ignore it, choosing instead to breathe her in. To study her as closely as she is studying me.

The will in her eyes is mesmerizing. I stay very still. Persephone could accept me in this moment. She wants the power I can offer her, and the knowledge. If she would only let those desires guide her.

I hold my breath in anticipation. It's so close. The moment is within reach.

If she would only give in to it. If she would only give in to me?—

But then Persephone's chin comes down. She does not pull her neck out of my hand. She does, however, change the angle—it’s a subtle resistance.

"No," she says, and lowers her eyes. That’s not a subtle resistance in the least.

Disappointment chills my heated needs.

Perhaps she does know what she’s doing to me. Perhaps even her tears and her hunger are purposeful and calculated. That sends a frisson through my body. It’s not doubt. More a recognition of how powerful Persephone could be if she would give me a fraction of her trust. I wouldn’t need much to awaken what I’m sure lies within her.

I wouldn’t need much at all. Only a sliver of an opening. In all honesty, I had thought Persephone would break quickly. I want to know how long she can resist—the curiosity grows every minute—but I want to be finished with the facade that she’s not going to give in at all.

She will.

She has no other choice.

I shouldn’t give her another chance to change her mind. I shouldn’t find myself willing to bend at all. This game we’re playing won’t be won more easily if she sees me as someone weak myself.

I cannot be weak. It is not the God I am. And I certainly won’t be weak with her.

“No?” I question, in spite of the strongest instincts telling me to remain silent. To give her nothing that would make her think?—

Persephone lifts her eyes to mine. For a moment, it’s there—that fire, that light.

But just as quickly, it fades back into bleak darkness.

“No,” she says, and refuses to say anything more.