‘What are you doing?’ Hades hisses.
‘Remember that reputation of yours?’
‘I’m familiar with it.’
‘It just gotsomuch better,’ I say before whimpering so loudly I can’t even hear the gods respond.
‘Where did you even learn this? When I met you, your name meant pure,’ Hades whispers, pulling me away from the door and into the room.
‘How many times must I tell you that the only company I’ve had for my entire life are nymphs?’ I ask, though, to be fair, I’m a little surprised at myself.
‘I’m surrounded by nymphs and I’ve never found the whole “nymphomania” thing to be true –’
‘It’s hardly something they’d talk about with you.’
I kick his shin and he grunts.
‘What was that for?’ he demands.
I shrug. ‘I have a reputation to maintain too.’
‘No, you don’t,’ he says.
‘Well, I do now.’
‘What if I’d said “ow” instead?’
‘Then I would have made fun of the almighty king of the Underworld for saying “ow”.’
‘Persephone.’
‘I would have made it work. They’re gods – they’ve definitely heard weirder things than “ow” during sex.’
‘And now what? We jump up and down on the bed?’ he asks.
‘Oh, good idea,’ I say. ‘Although let’s give it a bit – we don’t want them thinking you skip foreplay.’
Hades mutters something I don’t quite catch but I don’t think it’s complimentary.
I finally look at the room we’re standing in, and I’m surprised to find it full of colour and also, shockingly, flowers. My flowers.
Not that them being mine is a surprise. All flowers are mine.
But these are the blossoms I have grown in this realm, dried into frames and blooming in vases.
More scrolls line the walls, which seems excessive for a god with several libraries. The fabrics have been marbled with dyes to form rich patterns that soften the harsh stone walls. There are no canvases but he has painted the furniture, tiny details that I never would have noticed before I met him: swirls and ridges and patterns I’ve only seen in nature.
It’s like this room is the only part of the palace he has decorated to his tastes. No one else must venture here.
He’s no virgin, but I do wonder how long it’s been.
I pour Hades a drink while erratically moaning and at last he breaks into peals of laughter even as he shakes his head with despair. He finally joins in and we have to bury our faces into each other’s shoulders to stop our laughter being heard. Hades jumping up and down on the bed in his formal wedding robes is a moment I hope will never end. I don’t think I could be more entertained and then he starts shaking the headboard and I have to clap my hands to my mouth to stifle my laughter.
I manage to ignore the sobering fact that what we’re pretending would actually be happening if my father’s plans had come to fruition. I always thought sex was funny in an abstract way, terrifying if applied to reality. But this feels nothing more than giggling at the word ‘penis’ with the nymphs.
I glance at Hades. They think I’m having sex with him. Whatdo they imagine is happening? Do they think he’s running his hands across my body? Or …
I can’t. I genuinely can’t imagine it. It’s like a block falls in my mind. I want him – in a way that feels almost tangible, in a way I never imagined I could. All those stories about waiting for marriage and only sleeping with your husband – it never felt a hard thing to do. I don’t think I ever really understood desire. Until now.
