Page 4 of Hades and Persephone: Crown of Souls

“Very few things are truly impossible, little goddess.”

Her eyes shutter closed before opening again. Then they narrow on me.

She tests,God, I’ve always been attracted by the idea of Hades—but something about Ares, God of War, really turns me on. He’s so powerful and virile and…

Even though I know she is pushing me, testing me, jealousy burns inside me. “Careful, little goddess. You don’t want to make me jealous.”

Her mouth drops. She composes herself after some time enough to murmur, “You really can hear my thoughts?”

“Only the ones you direct to me.”

“You?”

“Your God.”

“You’re not my God.”

“I am your only God, Persephone.Youare my Goddess. My wife. My Mate.”

“You—you’re—” She shakes her head, slipping from between my hands. I let her scoot back on the bed, grateful when she doesn’t go far. She looks to the side, her eyes drinking in the room, my room, slowly. I watch her, fascinated and fearful of the emotions that play without even a curtain of shadow to conceal them. She is an open book, the pinnacle of honesty. Her eyes tip up to the ceiling, reflecting the falling glow of stars now lit in a crystal sky of electric purple. “I don’t know how this is possible. I don’t know how I am supposed to believe this.”

“In time, the truth will become clear.”

Her eyes slide slowly to me. Noc whines again. Under my shirt she wears, I watch the rise and fall of her breasts with one deep breath. She admits low, “I can’t tell if this is all in my head. If I’ve just slipped so deep into insanity, into some fantasy in my mind to never again wake from. To never escape from.”

“Do you wish to escape, Persephone?”

“I—” Her eyes drift once again to the ceiling, down the black walls of raw mountain, before being called by a gentle, warm breeze to the dark curtains touched with the faintest hue of violet that dance before a sprawling, carved obsidian balcony. They shift again to Noc, and back to the balcony. “I don’t know.”

I lower to sit on the bed, fighting my grin when her curious eyes snap back to me. Noc takes my movement as invitation to jump on the bed, scooting cautiously toward her.

I ask, “What would make you want to stay?”

She smirks. “Maybe I would want to stay if this was more than my overactive imagination. If it was, indeed, real.”

“The Underworld is a very real place, little goddess. It is filled with very real souls who have lived and lost and loved. Who continue to live and love within the safety of the cities of this realm.”

She blinks, then blanches. Her pitch rises with every word. “Am I—did I—am Idead?”

Her utter horror at the thought makes me grin.Humans, and their boxed idea of death.

“No, Persephone. You are very much alive and well.”

“Then how can I be here? If it’s true and this is really the Underworld, then only the dead may enter.”

“The dead and those possessing the immortal souls of Gods and Goddesses. Also, those whom I specifically invite into this realm.”

“And you invited me?”

She’s in denial of the immortal soul of the goddess that lives within her.

She won’t be for long.“Your soul has always been permitted entry into the Underworld.”

She shakes her head, as though trying to shake off the insanity of it all. It won’t work, we both know it, but it’s interesting to watch her try.

“So, I’m not dead, then?”

“No.”

---