A Touch of Chaos (23 page)

It was late when Dionysus woke to Ariadne entering his room. He didn't remember falling asleep and wasn't sure how long he'd been out. He rose onto his elbow.

“Ari?” he asked, feeling groggy and a little disoriented. He spoke as he yawned. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I didn't mean to wake you.”

He might be half-asleep, but he thought that was strange. “What exactly did you mean to do?”

She stared at him from the end of the bed, and then it dipped with her weight, and he watched in disbelief as she crawled to him.

Suddenly, he was very much awake.

“Ari,” he said.

“Dionysus,” she replied, her voice a heady whisper.

“What are you doing?” he asked as she guided him to his back with a hand on his chest.

“What does it look like?” she asked as she straddled his already-hard cock.

This has to be a fucking dream
, he thought.

He let his hands rest on her thighs.

“I think you should explain it,” he said. “In detail.”

Her eyes glittered in the darkness, and she rolled her hips against him lightly, as if testing how he felt against her.

He let out an audible breath.

“I wanted to thank you again,” she said. “For rescuing my sister.”

He raised a brow. “By having sex with me?” he asked.

“Are you saying you don't want to?” she asked, planting her hands against his chest, grinding harder against him.

Fuck, she was making this difficult. It wasn't that he didn't want her. He didn't want the feelings that would inevitably come with it.

His fingers pressed into her thighs.

“I'm saying I don't want you to fuck me because you feel obligated,” he said.

“I don't feel obligated,” she said.

She bent and pressed a kiss to his chest and then another.

“Ari.”

But at the sound of her name, she ran her tongue over his nipple, then her teeth, and he decided he didn't really care why she'd come to his bed, only that she was here and touching him.

She kissed down his stomach, tugging the blankets away until her mouth hovered over his cock.

This is really happening
, he thought as she met his gaze.

“You don't have to do this,” he said, except he was really hoping she would.

She didn't say anything, just took him into her hand and licked him from root to tip. He thought he was going to die, except he couldn't, because then he would miss this whole thing, and he
really
didn't want to miss this.

He was also really glad she couldn't hear his thoughts, because that would be embarrassing.

“Fuck yes, Ari,” he hissed as her warm and wet mouth closed over his cock, her tongue swirling in dizzying circles.

He reached for her hair, raking it to the side so he could see her better, watching as her head bobbed and her mouth stroked. When she released him, it was with an audible pop and a delicious groan.

Then she met his gaze and smiled, licking the come that had beaded at the tip of his cock. He wasn't sure what was more arousing, the feel of her mouth or the fact that she was having fun doing this.

“Fucking tease,” he said, inhaling between his teeth as she ran her tongue lightly over the pulsing veins of his shaft, all the way to his balls, which she lavished with her tongue.

When she started to move back to his dick, he sat up and she followed. Their mouths collided, and Dionysus gripped her ass, pulling her forward so her knees were on either side of him and his cock rested between her thighs. His hands dipped beneath her shirt, smoothing up her sides to her breasts. He squeezed them and teased them. All the while, she rocked against him.

His head felt so hot he thought it was going to explode.

They parted long enough for Ariadne to pull her shirt over her head, and then Dionysus buried his face between her breasts and took each of them into his mouth, tasting her sweet skin. He liked the way she arched against him, the way she pulled his hair.

“I want you inside me,” she said as she kissed him.

He said nothing because he couldn't. His mind was blank, filled to the brim with nothing but sensation and need.

He wanted inside her too.

She shifted away, pulling off her shorts before rising onto her knees and straddling his lap. He pulled her closer, and he ran the tip of his cock through her wet heat, pushing deeper when he knew he was in the right spot. Then Ariadne slid down, and her legs locked around his waist. Every part of them was aligned, including their eyes. It was intimate in a different way, beyond just being inside her.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he said.

A small smile curved her lips, and she leaned forward, her mouth moving over his as she teased. “And you didn't want me.”

“I always want you,” he said. “Even when you don't want me.”

Then he kissed her hard, and Ariadne pressed against him, hugging him tighter. He was so deep inside her, his balls rested against her ass, and he could feel her clit scrape against the hair on his lower stomach.

She used him for her pleasure, and he grew harder inside her. There was a primal part of him that could not help moving, aching to thrust into her.

Finally he lay back, bringing her with him, and rolled. He did not think she could get any more beautiful, but she stared up at him with hooded eyes and a swath of dark hair fanning out over her head, touching and squeezing her full and swollen breasts as he drove into her.

His body felt like it was on fire as he watched her writhe beneath him, and he knew she was close when she reached between them and rubbed her clit. Soon after, she dug in her heels and lifted her hips, and he felt her whole body tighten around him.

He bore down when he felt it, grinding into her as she gripped him tight, and then his orgasm hit, shuddering through him so violently, his arms and legs went numb.

Light-headed, he lowered his body, and though he could barely breathe, he kissed her deeply.

This time wasn't like the last when he hadn't known how to handle her after sex. Then, he'd doubted she wanted anything more from him once they had finished, but this time, he gave it no thought. He did what he felt guided to do and was pleased when she kissed him back.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

He frowned. He couldn't tell what she was thanking him for, but if it was the sex, he wished she wouldn't. He rolled onto his back and then sat up.

“If you want to freshen up, you can use my bathroom,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said again.

The words made him grind his teeth. He wasn't sure why they put him on edge so much, but each time she said them, he felt like they were strangers.

She rose from bed and went into the bathroom. The light blinded him for a brief moment until she shut the door. While she cleaned up, he gathered her clothes, expecting that she would want to dress and leave quickly, but when she returned, she lingered at the end of the bed.

“Can I stay? Just…for a little while.”

Her question sent a thrill through him, though he thought it was odd that she was so bold when it came to sex, but in this, she seemed shy.

“Of course,” he said.

He pulled the blankets down for her as she crawled into bed next to him. He held her close, one arm beneath her head, the other wrapped around her waist. Their bare bodies felt seamless and warm. It was murder on his cock, which was already hard against her ass, but he refused to give in to his desire until she was ready.

They were quiet, and soon, Dionysus's eyes grew heavy, but before he succumbed to sleep, he needed to ask her one question.

“Did you see Theseus?” he asked. “In the labyrinth?”

It took her a moment to answer, but when she did, he could tell her voice was thick with tears.

“I didn't see him, no,” she said. “Just the horror he was capable of.”

Hades focused on the softness of the bed beneath him, the cold caress of the sheets against his skin, and the warmth of Persephone against his chest.

He counted her breaths and her sighs and each time she moved.

The labyrinth was the first time in a long while he'd been deprived of any luxury, and he wondered if being trapped in its dark depths was the Fates' way of saying he'd grown too bold—that he deserved to fear an end to his blessings.

Except that he had never stopped fearing for Persephone.

Even now as they lay in the quiet of their room, blanketed by peace and solitude, he knew that beyond these walls, turmoil was brewing. He could feel it beneath his skin. The souls whose threads marred his body were restless.

It was a dreadful omen, but he knew from where it stemmed—from the magic of an old and angry god.

His father, Cronos.

Since the moment Theseus had told him the God of Time was freed from Tartarus, Hades had felt an unimaginable sense of dread, and now that he was home, that feeling had only grown worse.

He knew his father would come for him. He would come for Zeus and Poseidon too.

But before that, he would go after their mother.

Hades rose from bed and dressed, and with a final look at Persephone's sleeping form, he called up his magic and vanished.

Hades manifested at the Edge of the World. It was an open-air circular temple made of white marble columns. It was so tall, it touched the clouds, which billowed like blue and silver waves in the night. From here, one could look upon the Divine and witness Atlas straining beneath the weight of the Earth or Nyx casting her veil over the world, tangled within Erebus's dark embrace.

It was the temple of divine direction, and it was here where Rhea sat staring off toward the east.

From where he stood, she was only a shadow, the edges of her body illuminated by starlight, but as his eyes adjusted, he could see that she wore robes the color of the sunset, cast in orange and red hues. Her long, black hair cascaded down her back like the fringes of night, and a turret crown gleamed like the rising sun atop her head. On either side of her lay her two loyal lions.

It would have been a breathtaking scene had it not been for the fact that the lions were dead and a river
of blood was running from them and Rhea, over the mosaic floor, to his feet.

He was too late.

As he approached, he could hear her ragged breathing. His heart beat in tandem, breaking with every step. He rounded on her and saw a great spear embedded in her breast. She turned her head and looked at him, and he recognized the shadow in her eyes.

It was death.

“Have you come to take me away, my son?”

“It seems I must,” he said. Hades knelt beside his mother. “When did he come?”

He did not wish to say Cronos's name for fear that his father might hear.

“I do not know,” she said. “Time is different when he is near.” She turned her head away and looked east again. “I knew when he had entered the world again.” She spoke in a whisper. “I could feel it in my heart.”

“Why did you not hide?”

She smiled a little. She smiled like him.

“Perhaps…this is what I deserve,” she said.

“For what?” Hades demanded.

“For not protecting you,” she said. “For saving the one child who would become nothing more than a cruel and wicked king.”

He wanted to say something, to ease her guilt, but he had to admit that he had wondered often why she had chosen to save Zeus when she could have tricked Cronos from the start.

“I am here to watch the dawn,” she said. “Do you think Eos will open her gilded doors for me?”

“If she does not, I will knock on them for you,”
he said, following her gaze to the gates behind which the morning sun was trapped, its crimson rays reaching beyond their great height, bleeding into the night. “Are you afraid?” Hades asked as the light grew more golden minute by minute.

“Yes,” she said, and he took her hand. “Will I remember you?”

“In time,” he said.

She turned her earthly gaze back to him. “Do you promise?”

“I promise,” he said.

She made a small sound, like a satisfied sigh, and golden light warmed her face. Just then, Eos cast open her great doors and stood in saffron-colored robes, wreathed in the blinding rays of the dawn.

And in that brilliant light, Hades held his mother's hand until she was cold.

Later, after Hades had brought Rhea to the Underworld, he stood on the balcony at the front of his palace, ignoring the stabbing pain in his side. It was radiating like heat across his stomach. He knew that wasn't a good sign and he'd have to tell Hecate soon, but for now, he watched his realm slowly brighten beneath his muted sun.

Normally, he would watch his world wake, but it seemed it had never slept—not the souls who hammered steel in Asphodel or Cerberus, who patrolled the borders of the Underworld.

He knew they were restless because they were afraid.

Theseus had brought battle upon them in a life where they were only supposed to know peace. Hades
felt angry that his people had suffered, guilty that he had not been here to prevent the chaos Theseus had unleashed.

None of this would have happened if you had been here,
he thought bitterly, but those words felt wrong. Mostly, they minimized what Persephone had gone through to protect their realm, and the last thing he wanted was for her to think she had not done enough—that she had not
been
enough.

“What are you doing out here?”

He stiffened, straightening at the sound of Persephone's voice. He turned to see her standing just inside the threshold of the balcony doors. She looked beautiful and sleepy, illuminated by the morning glow of the Underworld and wearing nothing but black silk.

He felt like an idiot for not returning to her side.

“Just…observing,” he said in answer to her question.

She paled, and her eyes shifted from him to the dark horizon where the mountains of Tartarus gleamed like black glass.

“That is Iapetus,” she said, though he already knew.

She took a breath and shivered violently, which only deepened his anger and his guilt. He wished he had been here to protect her from this horror.

She left the threshold and came to stand beside him, her eyes locked on the monstrous mountain.

“I tried to hold him with my magic alone, but it was not as strong as yours,” she said.

“There is no difference in our magic, Persephone.”

As soon as he said the words, he realized how frustrated he sounded. It had not been his intention to reprimand her. It had to be overwhelming, to have
only just grown comfortable with her own power and suddenly have access to his, but one was not more than the other.

He tried again, gentler this time.

“Some things work, and others don't. It is that simple.”

She glanced at him and then away toward Tartarus, tapping her fingers against the stone railing, anxious.

“I thought maybe you could change it back…to the way it was before,” she said, almost as if she were suggesting a new addition to the castle or a plot in the garden.

“Why would I change it?” he asked.

The thought had not even occurred to him.

“Because of what it represents,” she said.

He frowned, brows lowering. “What do you think it represents?”

“Terror,” she said.

“Is that because you were afraid you couldn't contain him?” he asked.

Her jaw tightened, and she did not speak.

He stepped up behind her, grinding his teeth against the pain that radiated down his leg as he caged her against the balcony. She felt rigid against him, and he willed her to relax to no avail.

“You have not seen how the souls look upon them,” she said, hands fisting beneath his. “As if they do not trust they will hold.”

“It isn't unusual to fear something happening again, Persephone. It is not your magic they doubt.”

He could feel her shudder against him as she took a breath.

“So the mountains will hold?”

“Yes,” he whispered, his lips brushing her ear. “But if they are too much for you, I will change them.”

She was quiet, and after a moment, she turned in his arms, tilting her head back to hold his gaze, and his eyes fell to her mouth. She was so beautiful and so haunted, all he wanted to do was bring her comfort. He leaned forward, brushing his lips against hers, and though the kiss was gentle, they held each other tighter.

“I'm sorry,” he said when he pulled away, smoothing his thumb over her jaw. “I did not mean for you to wake alone.”

She watched him, eyes seeking something in his expression, and he grew anxious, thinking she was not finding what she was looking for.

“I know you left the Underworld,” she said. “Where did you go?”

He tried not to look surprised, but he could safely say he had not expected her to ask or to know that he had left at all, and while she likely knew that, she did not seem angry, only curious and concerned.

His gaze fell as he sought her hands, which were twisted into his robes.

“I went to say goodbye to my mother.”

Persephone's brows lowered. “What do you mean goodbye?”

He could tell by the way she asked that she knew what he meant, so he said nothing.

“Oh, Hades,” she said and took his face between her hands before sliding her arms around his neck and pulling him to her. ‘“I'm so sorry,” she whispered into his neck.

He wrapped his arms around her and swallowed
hard, trying to loosen the sharp knot in his throat, fighting each wave of emotion as it welled in his chest. The irony that he would mourn his mother was not lost on him. It was indeed some sort of divine vengeance given that he had been so cold toward Persephone when Lexa died.

“
I don't see why death matters
,” he'd told her. “
You come to the Underworld every day. You would have seen Lexa again.
”

“
Because it's not the same
,” she'd said, and at the time, he hadn't understood, but suddenly he did. It didn't matter that he could see her here—
in another life
. It was the simple fact that she had died out there. It was that she had been alone when Cronos had come for her. That he had killed her prized lions before he'd slammed his spear into her chest. It was that all she'd wanted was to see the sun rise a final time. It was that he would never forget looking upon her face as the veil of death descended to see a single tear on her cheek.

It was not the same because nothing would stop him from remembering everything that had preceded her existence within his realm.

“He killed her,” Hades said.

Persephone drew back. “Who?”

“Cronos,” he said and looked away, staring off toward Tartarus, and while Persephone had feared that her mountains would not hold Iapetus, she had forgotten that his had failed to contain his father. “I think I am next.”