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Persephone’s eyes felt like sandpaper when she opened them. For a moment, she thought she was home in her bed, but quickly remembered she had almost drowned in a river in the Underworld. Hades had brought her to his palace, and she now lay in his bed.
She sat up quickly, closing her eyes against her dizziness. When it passed, she opened them again and found Hades sitting in a chair watching her. In one hand he held a glass of whisky, apparently his drink of choice. He had shed his suit jacket and wore a black shirt with the sleeves rol
led up and the buttons halfway undone. She couldn’t place his expression, but she felt that he was upset.
Hades took a sip of the whisky, and the fire behind him cracked in the silence that stretched between them. In that quiet, she was hyper-aware of the way her body was reacting to him. He wasn’t even doing anything, but in these close quarters, she could smell him, and it ignited a fire in the pit of her stomach.
She found herself wishing he would speak—say something so I can be mad at you again, she thought. It wasn’t long before he obliged.
“How long have I been here?” she asked.
“Hours,” he replied.
Her eyes widened. “What time is it?”
He shrugged. “Late.”
“I have to go,” she said, but didn’t move.
“You have come all this way. Allow me to offer you a tour of my world.”
Hades stood and his presence seemed to fill the room. He downed the last of his whiskey, and then walked to where she sat on the bed. He grasped the covers and drew them away. As she slept, the robe he had given her loosened, exposing a sheath of white skin between her breasts. She held it closed, her cheeks flushed.
Hades pretended not to notice and held out his hand. She took it, expecting him to step away as she got to her feet, but he remained close, and kept a hold of her fingers. When she finally looked up, he was watching her.
“Are you well?” His voice was deep and rumbled through her.
She nodded. “Better.”
Then he drew his finger along her cheek, leaving a trail of heat. “Trust that I am devastated that you were hurt in my realm.”
She swallowed and managed to say, “I am okay.”
He kept looking at her, and then his gentle eyes hardened. “It will never happen again. Come.”
He led her onto the balcony outside his room—and the view was breathtaking. The colors of the Underworld were muted, and though not as bright as those above, still beautiful. The sky was grey and provided a backdrop for the black mountains, which melded with a forest of deep green trees. To the right, the trees thinned, and she could see the Styx’s black water snaking through the tall grass.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“It is beautiful,” she answered, and she thought he looked pleased. “You created all of this?”
He nodded only once. “The Underworld evolves just as the world above.”
Her fingers were still laced with his, and he tugged, leading her off the balcony, down a set of stairs that emptied into one of the most beautiful gardens she had ever seen. Lavender wisteria created a canopy over a dark stone path, and clusters of purple and red flowers grew wildly on either side of the trail.
The garden awed her and angered her.
She turned on Hades, pulling her hand from his. “You bastard!”
“Names, Persephone,” he warned.
“Don’t you dare. This—this is beautiful!”
It made her heart ache and was something she longed to create. She stared longer, finding new flowers—roses in an inky blue, peonies in pink, willows and trees with dark purple leaves.
“It is,” he agreed.
