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I stiffen. Aradia swings her glassy eyes to mine in recognition. It was the night she followed me to Psyche’s casket, the first night in a century where Psyche’s lifeless goddess moved.
As she reaches for me, I climb into the bed and embrace my little mortal, shifting her so I am at her back, my arms tethering her. She needs my comfort, my warmth, mylovemore than ever.
“I told you I discovered Psyche’s soul trail.” Hades gestures to us, knitting his brows as a stray group of butterflies flutters around the girl.
My hands idly roam along her body. This craving shouldn’t awe me. It’s not as if a mortal taking over my every thought and beat of my heart is new. Except, Aradia is not the byproduct of my arrow. And knowing she nearly perished from my former wife sickens me to my core, strangling my rebirthed heart.
“What I did not share yet, my old friend, is how Psyche’s trail ultimately led back to the mortal in your arms.”
Aradia stills. I tighten my grip on her, suspicion prowling my spine. “What are you blathering on about, Hades? She does not have Psyche’s soul signature. Look at her! She cannot even see the butterflies.”
“What butterflies?” she whispers, turning to me. I stop her mouth with a firm kiss, overwhelming her until she’s panting in my arms, her tremors fading. She mutters something about ‘not fair’.
“And yet, they are drawn to her.” Hades cautiously approaches the bed. “You are right, Eros, she does not bear Psyche’s signature because Aradia’s heart is strong enough tohostthe Goddess of Souls. But it did not come without a price.” His unblinking eyes regard her—not with any emotion or he’d have met with my fist. “I cannot know at what time of Aradia’slife when Psyche’s soul entered her. Perhaps it was at birth. Perhaps it was later. Regardless, the Goddess must have sought a host for decades. And Aradia was her choice.”
“Is that…” she licks her lips, a welling of hurt invading her voice, “…is that why I can see auras and communicate with ghosts?”
After Hades’ factual nod, Aradia whimpers and buries her face in her hands. My body hardens as she grieves because she’d always believed those parts of her, the parts no one else could understand, were hers to own. She’s falling apart.
Capturing Aradia’s chin, I shake my head in firm denial. My cock throbs against her backside as if driving the point home that she still owns those parts.
She entered my Purgatory. She played with me. Taunted me. Pranked me. Tempted me. Touched my heart in ways I never could have fathomed. All sense of rationality nearly escapes my will as I gaze down at her, wanting nothing more than to throw her down on this bed, get inside her, take her hot and raging to remind her that she won the heart of the God of Love.
“The consequence I spoke of…” Hades goes on, removing one black glove as he comes closer, prompting my muscles to tense. “When Psyche’s soul entered into Aradia’s, the mortal’s shattered.”
Fuck. My Butterfly doubles over, curling her knees into her chest and trying to fold in on herself. Gods-dammit, Hades! I remember Aradia’s words from the night she shared her trauma…
“I guess I was broken or something since I just made her worse.”
I narrow my eyes upon the bastard with a warning, my blood growing hotter.
“By rights, nothing of Aradia should exist,” he points out.
Aradia lifts her head, her eyes locking with his. While his are deep and contemplative, features softened, she’s found her spite. Her blood heats, riling from his audacity at claiming she should not exist. That’s my girl.
“But the shattered pieces of your soul, Aradia, are too strong, too great to fade. Too full of life to do anything but survive with the Goddess of Souls living inside of you. If you had never entered Purgatory, you likely would have carried Psyche to your death.”
A shadow darkens my being, chilling my blood as I consider his words. But first, I ball my hand into a fist. “Prove to me she holds Psyche’s soul.”
Denial rears sharply within me. Isn’t it enough that Aradia is here? That she fell in love with my Purgatory? Or that she awoke Psyche’s Goddess flesh? Or that she broke the stone curse upon my heart? She could be no one but the host of Psyche’s soul.
“If you will permit me, young mortal…” Hades gestures to Aradia, lifting his hand.
At first, she licks her lips, pausing. Tension strains the air between us. She swallows hard as if pushing past whatever force is strangling her throat. Finally, she nods.
A simple skirt of his fingertips across her cheek—the God of the Dead is the only one, save for Psyche and Thanatos, who may summon a soul.
Not a moment goes by before Aradia rises, turns, and smiles. The gold divinity swelling in her eyes and her opening her hands to welcome more butterflies do not simply testify to the Goddess now facing me. It’s how she smiles at me. Fuck, Aradia holds two main energies in her smile—she is either impish and knowing, playful, or she is wanton and lustful, flirting at every turn.
This is Psyche’s smile. One of adoration, worship, and eternal gratitude for the God of Love who saved her from a fate of doom.
Guilt thickens inside me, forming an icy grip. Why, I can’t fathom. Psyche knew I would never be monogamous, but taking another lover—a mortal one—is a betrayal to her memory. Then again, is it such a betrayal when I was undoubtedly drawn to Psyche’s soul living inside Aradia?
“Eros, my Eros, my lover in the night,” she says, her vocal cords having lowered to a smoky yet sweet tone that is all Psyche’s. I can almost imagine her goddess flesh of milky white skin, her cascade of golden hair, her pronounced curves and small plump breasts, tall and slender limbs. Aradia is so different with her petite body, but full curves with fuller breasts—a little package housing a ferocious soul.
The two halves of my nature go to war. One side wishes to take a few moments to fuck my wife, the Goddess in her mortal flesh. The other reminds me I would still be fucking Aradia’s body, not simply my wife’s soul. Psyche’s delirious tears of bliss after a century apart, the intensity of her desire burrowing deep to my fucking alchemy, her blood lusting for mine…
The second our gazes collide, my guilt vanishes, and I thrust my finger to the door. “Get out, Hades. Do not leave. Just get out.”
