That Fatal Kiss (10 page)

Hades clenched his teeth, wishing the Lame God would make haste and leave him no time for self-recriminations. The longer he waited, the louder the voice grew, and memory chimed in, throwing up images and sensations of his first moments with his wife. The feel of Persephone’s quivering flesh warming his embrace when he claimed her, the sweet taste of her unsuspecting lips when he laid his kiss upon them…then the look of pain on her face after he’d knocked her to the floor. With an oath he stormed out of the room, heading for his stables so that he might run his nephew down to ground. This, in fact, he did; three steps beyond the portal he ran right into Hephaestus, who fell back with a resounding thud. Hades pulled him up roughly, saying, “Come, let us get it done.”

Hephaestus hobbled after him and ventured to ask, “W-w-where is Persephone?”

“Out, exploring the Underworld with Hecate, but she could return at any moment,” Hades replied, turning down the long corridor that led to the bedchamber and motioning to Hephaestus to keep his voice low. Reaching the bedchamber, he pulled Hephaestus in after him and shut the massive door, willing it to stay closed. The last thing he needed was for Persephone to happen upon them and become wise to the scheme. The King of the Dead eyed the sack Hephaestus bore and nodded toward the bed. “Go on, let’s see them.”

“I’ve w-worked very hard on the restraints, Uncle, you’ll not s-see another set the likes of these,” Hephaestus said, opening the sack and removing fine chains made of burnished gold, which shone in the dimly lit room.

Hades frowned. “They’re too luminous; she’ll surely see them and attempt escape before I’ve had a chance to place them upon her.”

“N-no, Uncle, n-not at all,” refuted Hephaestus, limping over to the bed with the chains, “only wait and see!” He arranged them on the bed and stepped aside, inviting Hades to take a closer look. Folding his arms across his chest, Hades stepped forward. The chains seemed to have disappeared.

“They’re still there, Uncle,” Hephaestus said, “and you’ll not have to do a thing to place them upon her. Merely wait until she gets into bed; the chains will automatically fasten themselves about her wrists and ankles and will not release her until you will it.” When Hades glanced at him skeptically Hephaestus said, “Watch, Uncle, how easily it will be accomplished.” He clambered up onto the bed and no sooner did he stretch himself out than a swift series of clicks sounded and the chains did just as he claimed. Hades leaned over for a better look when a furious pounding assailed his chamber door. “Who dares to intrude in my home?” Hades growled, making his way over to the door. “Who goes there?”

A smooth voice answered, “‘Tis Eros, son of Aphrodite. Will you admit me or must I woo you through the door?”

Successfully nonplussed, Hades willed the door to open, pulled Eros in, and closed it again. “Why are you here?” the Host of Many asked, his surprise outweighing his annoyance.

The handsome God of Love grinned, clasping his great-uncle’s hand and inclining his titian head toward the bed. “Tell me, Uncle, have your tastes taken a turn for presumably untried pastures?”

That part of Hades which could appreciate a jest, long unused, warred with the other part that longed to mate with his wife, and lost. Ignoring Hephaestus’ yelps, he demanded again, “What in the name of Conniving Cronus brings you here?”

“Ah…” Eros sighed, running a hand over his tired eyes. Hades noted that, though handsome indeed, the God of Love looked weary. “A female brings me here. I need your help.”

“A female?
My
help?” Hades echoed.

“Yes, the mortal Psyche, one whose beauty rivals my mother’s,” Eros began, then caught the start of surprise Hephaestus gave from the bed. “I daresay my step-father also bears a request regarding my wife.”

Hades blinked. “Now she’s your wife?”

Eros grinned at that. “Aye, and has been for some time. Come, release Hephaestus so we may discuss a resolution to our respective difficulties.”

Utterly bewildered, Hades forgot Hephaestus’ earlier instructions. “And how am I to effect his release?”

“Simply will the chains to become undone,” Eros advised. “If I am not mistaken, my step-father used a similar set of chains upon my own mother and father, Ares, when he suspected their indiscretion.” He also chose to ignore Hephaestus’ continued sputtering.

“Ah!” Hades nodded his comprehension, remembering Hephaestus’ clever scheme to catch his wife at her infidelity. Aphrodite’s mortification, viewed through his enchanted Mirror, had been spectacular. Hades willed the chains to unlock and freed Hephaestus. The Lame God bustled over, gesticulating wildly, until Eros put an arm around his shoulders to calm him. “Come now, fret no longer. I know my mother very well and have discovered a way that her will may be done in accordance with my own.”

“Y-y-y-you have?” Hephaestus asked.

“Am I to be enlightened regarding this mysterious matter?” Hades asked. “
My
wife will arrive shortly and, though I’ve been singularly entertained by your visit, Eros, I shall have to ask you to terminate it. Quickly.”

Eros outlined what transpired between his wife and mother. At Eros’ prompting, Hephaestus informed Hades of Aphrodite’s request for assistance. Hades looked from one god to the other, asking, “Am I to understand, Eros, that you
want
me to comply with your mother’s request?”

“Yes,” Eros confirmed. “Let Psyche come hither and receive the sleep of Death in the most beautifully adorned vessel you can contrive. If she withstands the temptation to look within and completes this final task, Mother will have no choice but to give our marriage her blessing. But if Psyche’s curiosity overwhelms her instead, she will merely fall asleep and I myself will fetch her and take her to Zeus, who has agreed to help me resolve this matter. In this way, Aphrodite will be appeased and I may reclaim my bride. All that remains is for you to agree to the scheme.”

Hephaestus regarded Eros with admiration. “Yes, that is the perfect plan.” He turned to Hades, forgetting to be fearful. “What say you, Uncle?”

Hades reflected briefly on the matter. “So be it. If Hephaestus provides me with such a box, then I shall have Hecate take care of the rest.”

The Lame God whooped with relief, promised to craft the container immediately, and raced from the room to get started.

Eros clasped Hades’ hand, saying, “I thank you for your help, Hades.” He raised his eyebrows, adding, “And I’d rather hoped I might return the favor…?”

“How’s this?” Hades asked with narrowed eyes.

Under the daunting regard of the King of the Dead, Eros cleared his throat before offering engagingly, “Well, it has come to my attention that you have yourself recently taken a bride…” He paused for a moment, then went on, “Uncle, with no disrespect intended, I’d thought to offer my assistance, as you—” he broke off at the haughty raise of Hades’ chin, gave another cough, and amended, “
should
you require it.”

Hades turned away, his customary ill-temper urging him to send Eros packing for his cheek. No one had ever offered solidarity in the past, which was just as well, given his innate mistrust of all beings, Immortal or no. And yet he looked back at Eros and asked, “Why do you want to
assist
me?”

Eros returned Hades’ hard look without flinching. “Because I know. I know what it is to be shunned, to be feared, despised for one’s might. Do not think that being the God of Love endears me to the others. Because of my mother’s machinations, they mistrust me also. And because of my potential power over them, they avoid me, for fear of succumbing to my might.” He took a step closer to Hades. “Aphrodite thinks that it was an accident, an inadvertent brush against the tip of one of my own arrows which caused me to lose my heart to Psyche. That is what I wish her to think. The fact is, the moment I saw Psyche, I knew, somewhere, in the depths of my very being, that she’d been created for me only. I knew this, and yet, my heart felt frozen, incapable of feeling love, from all the years of unsought isolation. I knew she was fated for me, but could not throw off the cloak that despair wove around me. So I took one of my arrows and deliberately scratched myself with it, allowing the magic to work its way through me, thawing my heart, and allowing me to love. And soon after, I had my bride, though our union was shrouded in mystery and even she did not know that her husband was the God of Love.”

Eros’ tale mesmerized Hades, and he opened his mouth to reply but halted when he heard hurried footsteps coming down the corridor. Snapped back into the present, Hades took Eros by the arm, willed the invisible door by the bed to open, and guided him through it. As it closed behind them, he willed the chamber door to unlock so that Persephone could enter and then motioned for Eros to follow him through the dark passageway, which led to another invisible door that opened up into Hades’ throne room. Once inside, Hades rallied his thoughts. “Eros, you must go now.” At Eros’ look of dismay, Hades offered, “Perhaps, if you still wish it, we might reunite and share a cup of nectar or two. But not now.”

“But Uncle, you do not truly mean to use the chains crafted by my step-father?”

“Indeed I do, as they are my only recourse. Now, you really must leave,” Hades said, urging Eros out.

Eros turned and grasped Hades by the shoulders. “Very well, I see that my counsel will have to wait for a more opportune moment. But listen; force is not the only avenue open to you. Persephone may yet come to love you, if you allow it. She is not like the others; though young, she is wise and has a boundless capacity for love—”

Hades nodded as if he’d been paying attention, shoved Eros through the main entrance, and closed the door on his troubled face. He returned to the throne room and hesitated at the invisible door. Another attack of doubt came over him but he willed himself to repress it. Instead, he imagined Persephone naked and bound to his bed by those magical chains, felt his body react, and marched back through the dark passageway to claim his bride.

X.

PERSEPHONE RAN UP
the marble steps and down the long corridors of the palace, not sure where Hades expected her to meet him. She worried her lateness would displease him and made haste to their bedchamber, thinking he might collect her there. She opened the door and poked her head in but found the room empty. Persephone decided to take her ease, entering the chamber and closing the door gently behind her. She would have liked a bath, to refresh her tired limbs, but had no idea how to summon the servants. She kicked off her sandals, then removed her cloak and laid it on the ivory couch next to her chest. Realizing she still held the golden bough Hecate gave her, Persephone looked about for a place to put it, then simply laid it on a chair in a corner of the room. Pondering how she would use it without revealing its purpose, she walked over to the bed for a bit of a rest.

She cried out in alarm when, not a moment after she stretched out, she felt something cold slither around her wrists and ankles and heard the sounds of locks clicking. “What in the name of Thundering Zeus?” Persephone exclaimed, thrashing against her invisible restraints and finding that, while they left her some range of movement, she could not break free of them. Anger flared within her; she could not believe Hades had plotted against her yet again. But when the secret door in the wall opened to admit him, she needed only a glimpse of his face to know that she was bound by his dictate.

Avoiding her eyes, Hades removed his belt, inquiring casually, “Did you enjoy your outing with Hecate?”

Persephone stared at Hades’ back in disbelief. Had he utterly lost his mind? Then the dire urgency of the situation penetrated through her bewilderment. “Hades, don’t. Please, don’t do this.”

The plea, uttered in a whisper with an undertone of sheer hysteria, seemed to give him pause. Hades spared a glance at his wife’s face, then quickly turned away. He sat on the edge of the corner chair, nearly crushing the golden bough, while he removed his own sandals. “Don’t do what? Undress?”

Could he truly be so flippant at a moment like this? “You know very well what I mean. If you abuse me in this way, how can I ever forgive you?”

He sat back in the chair, undoing the clasp at his left shoulder that held together his crimson robes. “Do you mean to tell me that you’ve forgiven me for taking you, then?”

His dark gaze enthralled her. She could not dissemble, but feared that the truth would spur him to further aggression. “Can you truly believe I will become…kindly disposed toward you if you violate me?”

He rose to his feet, once again naked before her, and Persephone gulped at seeing the proof of his powerful need for her. She turned her face away but sensed his approach, heard the acerbic edge to his voice when he said, “I cannot believe that anything short of your release would make you
kindly disposed toward me
, and even then I expect you would seek to assemble a team of gods to avenge you, if they would dare.”

Persephone tensed as the bed sank, yielding to his weight. She closed her eyes and frantically searched her heart for the words that would deter him from this ignoble course. His hand ran the length of her exposed leg, his skin rough and calloused, but the touch tender, almost reverent. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly, her breath shallow, and her pulse quickened with fear…and excitement. The hand continued on its path, upward, caressing her stomach and flanks through the gauzy dress, which only partially covered her now. It found her right breast, touched it lightly, then cupped it; a thumb stroked her taut nipple experimentally.