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15
Kore
Hades' bedroom is the only room in the palace that has color. The room is made of the same obsidian walls as the rest of the palace, but draped in velvet fabrics that resemble the color of blood. Ornate silver frames wrap around hundreds of mirrors—in various shapes and sizes—that sit opposite a bed dominating the center of the room. A massive, pewter mantlepiece shines from the fire burning within it. Orange light dances across renditions of Cerberus chasing souls toward a pewter rendering of Hades. The artist did not study her well enough—the pewter goddess appears frigid, cruel as the flames throw shadows around her delicate features. Firelight turns her monstrous, and Kore hates the man who forged his queen. If he meets the fool who dared to depict Hades as a beast, Kore will throw him into Tartarus. It is a crime that deserves a horrific punishment. Who made Hades look at herself in such a manner? Why aren’t his entrails drying in the sun, before his open eyes?
Her chilly palm startles Kore out of glaring at the hearth, and he turns to find her watching him with amusement.
“What?” Kore feels naked, and has yet to remove a stitch of clothing.
“I know, I look like a fearsome woman. A callous woman.” She glances toward the decorative piece, grinning as she leans into Kore’s side. “I like that they all see me as a loathsome entity. It keeps the fools away.”
“I don’t like it,” Kore says. A frown tips down the corners of his mouth, matching the expression of the pewter queen. “They should see you as you are, not as they want you to be.”
“Those who rule over the dead are not loved by any, Kore,” Hades tells him. There is no hint of wistful longing, as if Hades has reached acceptance regarding the station forced upon her. All of Olympus knows Hades was not given a choice about the Underworld. Though she is the eldest of Kronos' children, she is the least respected. Femininity is a plague according to many men, and women are not fit to rule over beauty or life. The only place for a queen was where she could not shine—in a land where she would not eclipse her brothers. As Kore looks upon Hades, as he feels rage for her brothers building within his chest, he understands why Demeter hates men. Men have threatened everything she worked for, and all she ever wanted was a daughter to leave her legacy.
“You should rule over everything,” Kore tells her, his anger letting slip those words.
Hades chuckles, smiling up at him as if his wrath amuses her. Each nymph and lesser goddess he took to bed could not handle the rage within Kore. He tempered it, held it close like a devastating secret, and worked hard to keep that feeling from bleeding onto others. Kore didn’t want to be Demeter. He didn’t want to be his younger self—brutal, repugnant, and hateful. For the third century of his life, he’s tempering his destructive desires. Biting his tongue so often—if he were mortal there would be a scar in the shape of his teeth.
Even now, with Hades, Kore tries to draw those emotions back. “I’m sorry. I spoke out of turn.”
Hades watches him from beneath the veil of her dark lashes, a sultry expression that morphs her face into that of a wanton creature—alluring in ways no nymph or lesser goddess managed. They were all beautiful—some more so than Hades—but beauty is not enough, as Kore discovered. Beauty is vapid and fleeting. Whatever Hades gives him feels less fragile.
The light in her smoky eyes shifts, morphing with some decision Kore that doesn’t know her well enough to translate.
Her hands work open the buttons of her dark dress, revealing skin with each thump of Kore’s rapid heartbeat. “In this room—and only this room—I will allow you the one thing all men who’ve bedded me desired.”
Rage courses through him again, pulsing behind his ears and turning his vision red while he imagines another’s hands on the skin she exposes.
“In this room, you can be the king. Rule over me with that wrath you wish to exorcise.”
A dam breaks within him, and Kore presses closer, stopping her hands with a touch. “I won’t hurt you,” he whispers.
Hades' response is a sultry smile, followed by husky words. “I know,” she says, her words soft as the beat of a butterfly’s wing. “But if you’re too gentle, I’ll know you’re holding back.”
Kore realizes Hades sees his darkness—simmering and well-concealed beneath a facade—and she seems determined to crack the mask Kore hides behind.
“So be it,” Kore says, the last of his own resistance melting away.
He rolls his neck, and when it pops with a sharp crack he feels the difference—in himself and in the vibe between them.
“On your knees,” he commands, his voice steady though his heart still beats rapidly beneath his chest. “I want to know how a queen begs.” Kore shivers, leaning into a side of himself he’s never explored—too scared of his own wrath to try exerting dominance over a lover, especially a lover he didn’t care about.
A slight smile curls up the corners of Hades' mouth—an imperceptible shift that he would miss if he wasn’t studying her for clues.She likes that then.
Hades kneels with a graceful movement, motions that Kore determines to wreck. He wants to turn her into an untamed mess. Kore wants to see her shaking—crying out from overstimulation as he brings her to release. He’s never wanted to watch a woman come undone. It’s always been about him, but in this room, with Hades, everything is different. Though she gave him permission to play king, his purpose is to please his queen. There’s no greater responsibility and Kore isn’t about to let Hades down.
“Tell me what you enjoy,” Kore commands, but if Hades is listening closely Kore knows she will hear the words as a plea.
“Everything,” her reply is a challenge. In those words he hears,Figure it out yourself.
Kore’s smile spreads; he feels it morphing across his face—turning his expression ravenous.
16
Hades
Kore drops into a crouch before her. His expression of lust could rival Eros', and need pulses between Hades' thighs. The sensation intensifies as Kore works to open her dress, exposing Hades' nude flesh to the chilly room. Her nipples don’t pebble from the temperature; they peak beneath Kore’s hungry gaze, as if beckoning him to come taste. He disappoints her by not listening to the silent request. Yet she remains still, stoic as she can manage with need coursing through her veins. Hades wants Kore to learn her body for himself. Perhaps that desire is some misguided pride, but Hades needs Kore to conquer her with his own strategy. It shouldn’t be her place to train him when he came here as consort and when he rules in this room as her king. A king should learn his subjects, he should read silences, and she will teach him about ruling here where it is safe. Teaching benefits her, too; if he’s as good in bed as he is pretty.
