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Hades dips her head in silent thanks as she sweeps past Hecate on the way out of the records room.
Hades stands alone in the stillness of her palace. The invisible guards don’t stand in their usual stations. Her subjects are resting, a well-deserved reprieve after they marched behind her to bring Kore home. Rare is her solitude, but she craves companionship and closes her eyes. The Underworld is a living entity that’s connected to Hades. Should she choose, she can reach out through that connection to find any crevice or creature. A pebble trembling at the lowest level of the Underworld cannot escape her if Hades searches for that pebble.
Now she searches for Kore.
Come, Hades.
It seems he’s searching for her too.
46
Kores
He stands at the window of Hades' bedroom—their room—watching as Charon leads thousands of vessels to gather waiting souls.
Thanatos and the Keres haven’t been to the Underworld since Thanatos led Kronos back to Tartarus. They’re gathering mortals, collecting the dead at an astronomical rate.
Kore wonders how many of those mortal deaths relate to his suppression of Demeter—the lives lost in a war he doesn’t regret as much as he should. Casualties always happen in wars, and mortals are lesser than pawns on a chessboard. Lives lost because Kore imprisoned the Goddess of Harvest are another matter.
Those worries plague him as the bedroom door swings open, revealing Hades.
“You’re here,” he says, turning away from the window. Kore allows the worry to drift to the back of his mind; guilt melts away in the presence of his beloved. “How long has it been since we last stood here?”
“Eternity,” Hades replies, voice desperate.
He’s not sure which of them moves first, all Kore knows is they collide in the center of the room. Lips devouring, teeth digging into sensitive skin, while tongues seek to map forgotten territories. Kissing Hades fills Kore with relief. Tasting her reminds Kore that Hades wasn’t a dream.
“I missed you,” he whispers, lips catching over hers when they break apart. His lungs, greedy for her scent, take in deep, shaky breaths. Kore’s cock is so hard in his jeans it borders on painful.
“I missed you,” Hades echoes.
“How much?” Kore asks. His fingers weave through the cool, black strands of her hair. He grips Hades, holding her tight as he draws her in for another devouring kiss.
She’s not shy with her tongue, reaching into Kore and retracing him in a sensual conquering. Her hands press against his chest, Hades' body crowding him back, toward the bed.
Kore falls against the mattress, a willing surrender. Gaze ravenous, Kore tracks Hades' pale fingers as she opens the front of her linen shift. There were breasts before Hades', but Kore can’t recall them as he stares up at his queen. The pale, nearly colorless shade of her nipples and the full curve of her breasts remind him of the nude statues great sculptors rendered from marble. He wonders if their hands touched Hades in sleep, if she replaced the usual muses in their bed, and they walked away learned of her perfection. He’d smite them all. He’d find them in their various fields and undo their souls from eternity. Jealously and rage flee Kore as Hades climbs over his lap. She takes one of his hands, still scarred from his most recent battle, and places it against the swell of her chest. His palm cups the weight and his hips buck upward, desperate like a boy in youth.
“Patience,” Hades smiles. Her fingers work open his pants, releasing his cock from the confines of its prison. Kore tears the remnants of her dress away, revealing the rest of Hades to his gaze as she spreads her knees wider.
Positioning herself over him, Kore watches and holds his breath. As Hades stretches around his hardness, Kore’s held breath punches out of his lungs.
Kore nearly comes; the feel of her body a memory realized.
“You can come, my love,” Hades murmurs. Her lips drag over his skin, lazy open-mouthed kisses claiming the swell of his cheek, the line of his jaw, the dip in the hollow of his throat.
Her fingers, ever cold but comforting, press between his. An intimate gesture Kore never allowed with another. Innocent, but affirming in this room charged with their desperate union.
“Move with me,” Hades commands. She rocks her hips, enough to stimulate her but not bring her off.
Kore’s free hand moves to her ass, gripping the roundness as he uses the balls of his feet to thrust up, into Hades' willing body.
“Yes,” she breathes out. “Like that, my love. Fill me.”
Kore watches the way her dark lashes fan across her pale cheeks, as Hades closes her eyes. Her lower lip pinched between her teeth causes him to groan.
Why should you have a daughter? Demeter’s words, in his mind, cause Kore to jerk in surprise. Hades opens her eyes, a questioning expression drawing down her dark eyebrows.
“Kore?”
