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24
KING OF TORTURE
Persephone started toward Pelops, bile sloughing down her body as she stood. Her head spun, the world swimming beneath her feet as she shot up too quickly.
“What are you doing to him?” She ground out as she struggling to remain on her feet.
“Me? Nothing,” Hades said in a mock tone of hurt at her accusation, a hand to his chest, “yet.” He winked again and Pelops’ mouth opened in a silent scream, the veins in his neck throbbing, his eyes bulging from his head as he thrashed in agony.
Hades dropped his casual demeanor as Persephone looked at him, fighting to tear her eyes from Pelops as he struggled above them. He lifted his hand, his fingers clutched around thekolossosPersephone had buried beneath that stream, still wet and dripping enough to form a puddle at his feet.
Closing his fist around the doll, Persephone watched in horror as it burst into shredded chips of wood through his clutched fingers. When he opened them again nothing but a thin, wet layer of mud remained in his hand.
Then the mud was gone, his palm dry and clean as he looked at her murderously; his eyes narrowing to thin black slits as he angled his head up, looking down his nose at her.
Straightening her back, Persephone let her hands slack at her sides in feigned casualness, and said, “I do not—”
“You tried to curse me.” His hard voice cut her off. “I am not unimpressed,” he smirked, “just furious.” Hi face dropped and he took a slow step toward her, cocking his head to the side as he looked her up and down. “You are the first to ever try. Even my brothers—even your mother, knows better than to attempt something so futile. Cursing me,” he laughed, her jaw clenching at the sound. “I am a chthonic god, Persephone. I am the one who does the cursing. Without me, without my presence here in the Underworld, there would be no curses.” He spat at the ground at her feet, she was so frozen in fear she barely noticed the droplets that landed on her toes, as he crept forward. “What were you thinking?”
“I—”
His sharp glare cut her off. “You were not thinking. If you were, then you are even more naive than I thought.”
She pressed her lips together, wanting to retort, but knowing he was correct. She was naive. Ignorant, really. Demeter told her it would not work, and she tried anyway, thinking herself powerful enough to skirt past her husband.
“I sh—”
“Gods cannot curse other gods,” he said, cutting her off again. “I thought that was obvious, seeing as mortals wield curses to get passed the gods. Since they use them instead of us, knowing the odds of our agreeing to their terms is slim. And gods certainly cannot curse the King of the Dead.” He caressed her face with one hand, letting his fingers slowly graze down the side of her face and neck to rest on her shoulder.
At the touch of his skin their wedding night flashed through her mind, an echoing feeling of need thrumming up her thighs. His eyes dropped to her chest, visible through the wet fabric, and he continued, not look up at her eyes, “If you ever try that again, I will chain you to the mountain my palace is carved into,” he kissed her shoulder in the same spot as when she had left days ago, “for eternity.”
She cried out as his lips drew away from her skin, drowning out the end of threat. Her shoulder sizzled where his mouth had been, small blisters popping up when he had burned her. They did not heal as quickly as they should, and Persephone let that fuel her anger at Hades. She looked back at him, forcing her face into the most threatening fury she could manage, but he was smiling calmly at her.
The ire coating her tongue and throat melted away into a deep dread at the calm look on his face.
“Let’s try this again, Persephone.” His voice was thick as her name dripped from his lips, and his eyes roamed her body, pronounced and clear through the cloth now sticking to her, showing him all her curves and soft edges. “How was Pelops?”
Persephone swallowed, uncomfortable under his unrelenting gaze. “He was fine.”
“So, you did see him?”
“Yes,” she said through her teeth.
“After I forbade it?” He said, too calm and still.
“You did not,” Persephone said. “You said he would not—could not remember everything. Not that I could not try to help him remember.”
“That much was implied.”
“I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.”
“Oh?” Hades backed away a step, arms behind his back. “That is depressing, since he was days, if not minutes, away from leaving you,” Persephone’s heart dropped, her mouth drying at his words, “for my brother.”
“What?” The world swayed around her, and she braced her feet further apart to steady herself. “He what?” She shook her head in disbelief. “How—how could he—”
She was falling, the ground rising up to meet her and kiss her cheek, when Hades was suddenly there, arms wrapped around her abdomen just before she hit the ground. Again.
“Which brother?” She managed to choke out. If it was Zeus she was going to vomit again, all over herself and Hades until she died right here, in his arms, from the pain blaring inside of her chest.
