Desperate Housewives of Olympus (27 page)

“What if it was being with Persephone?”

“We already had this discussion.” His words cut her. What the hell was she doing here? Fuck the fire—she’d jumped out of the frying pan and right into the inferno. This was deeper than she’d ever been into anything. “Nothing’s changed.”

“I hope for your sake that you haven’t fallen in love.”

This was the straw that stripped the scales from the dragon. She’d had enough of his self-pity and his fear. Because that’s what it was—this aversion to love. It was pure, unadulterated fear.

“And what if I did, Hades? Would it be so horrible?” Hera looked up into his eyes and she refused to be afraid anymore, refused to fear that he would see the truth of her feelings there.

“It would,” he said quietly as he nodded. “There would be only pain for you there because I can’t love you back.”

“Did I ask you for anything but your time and attention? Did I ask you to love me?” Hera asked as if she really required an answer.

“You are now with that hopeful desperation on your face.”

“What do you know of it? Nothing,” she answered her own question. “You’ve never loved. You just said that what you felt for Persephone was the love of an idea, not the goddess. So how can you know what it feels like, or what I’m asking you for, or what I can live with?”

“Hera,” he began in a low tone that was almost an admonishment.

“Hades,” she delivered the rebuke back to him. “Don’t presume to know the breadth of a goddess’s heart. I don’t want anything from you but what you want to give me. I knew you wouldn’t love me the day I proposed this partnership. Nothing has changed. We don’t even need to have this conversation. You’re the one so focused on it.”

“Because your pain hurts me,” he cried.

“Ah, well then I should stop loving you because of your discomfort?” She rolled her eyes.

“Yes!”

“No. It doesn’t work that way. You wanted to have this discussion? Fine. We’ll have it. I do love you.” He looked stricken at her words, but that didn’t stop her. The dam had broken and the tidal wave of her confession couldn’t be stopped now. “I love you like the sun loves the sky—content to burn in its arms for eternity. My love is more constant than the stars and when they’ve shuddered into oblivion, it will still be there—strong in my heart as the day it was born. When the mortal world is nothing but dust and ash and all that makes us sentient has slipped away in the granules of sand through the great hourglass—yes, even then. No matter if you never feel your heart beat again inside your chest, no matter if you never feel anything but lust for me, I will love you.”

“Don’t say those things.” He looked away.

“Why not? You demanded to hear them. So now you will listen.” Hera sprang to her feet and grabbed his arm when he would have turned away from her.

“Damn it, Hera. I know I’m your second choice.” Hades still wouldn’t look at her.

She remembered her promise to the tender heart that had beat for her. Hera had promised she wouldn’t hurt him and this had done it, cut him to the core. She took a deep, calming breath. “I chose wrong the first time. I didn’t love either one of you then. I was a godling led by my mother’s hand. Why does this have to be about the past? Can’t it be about us in the here and now?”

“Because it is about the past. It’s about punishing Zeus. It’s about catching the one that got away and Hera, when you finally see I’m not the catch you made me out to be, all of these things you think you’re feeling…they’ll crumble to nothing.”

“You are everything that you made
yourself
out to be, Hades. I’ve already told you I don’t expect anything from you but honesty and fidelity. Are you telling me you can’t deliver?”

“What if I don’t want to deliver?”

“Then tell me now and we’ll be done with this.” Hera steeled herself for whatever answer he would give. She didn’t think he’d send her away, but she couldn’t believe how callous he’d been with Persephone.

“What happened to the sweet I love yous?” he sneered.

“I said I love you, I didn’t say that meant I’d eat your shit sundae with a silver spoon. Love doesn’t mean pain.”

“There’s where you’re wrong.”

Hera could read the predatory look on his features, he was going to kiss her and he was going to be hard, brutal. He wanted her to tell him to stop. It was the same test from when she’d first come to be with him and she was tired of being tested. She’d already proven herself.

And yet, she wouldn’t deny him. She didn’t want to. Hera wanted to be all things to him He was angry, but grudge sex was always good and Hera knew on a primal level he’d never really hurt her physically. In fact, she liked a little hair-pulling.

Hera reached out and threaded her fingers through his hair and yanked him down to her. His kiss was every bit as hard and hungry as she’d expected, but Hades pulled away before she was ready.

“Aren’t you going to deny me, Hera? Doesn’t this
hurt
?”

“It does hurt, but it’s bittersweet. I’ll never deny you, Hades. Never,” she swore.

That was the source of all of his suffering, being denied. When he was a godling, his mother had preferred Zeus to him, knowing what he’d become. It was ironic that their golden boy had been the one to kill them. Hades had never been given anything—everything he’d possessed he’d been forced to steal.

He’d taken Persephone because he hadn’t thought he could have her any other way. And she was too pure, too innocent. It was like he’d seen something in a shop, but didn’t have the money to pay for it, so he’d taken it, but he’d never wanted to do anything with it. It was a pretty bauble he wanted to have for the sake of having. He’d coveted her, yes, but he’d never truly loved her.

All of those years of denial hadn’t only been for Persephone—they’d been for him too. He hadn’t wanted to spoil his prize.

Hera was none of those things. She loved him with the heart of a goddess grown, of a woman. She knew it was almost time to give him her heart, in the literal sense. So he could understand. He’d feel all the things she felt and he’d know her feelings for him were genuine. She wasn’t worried about losing any of her devotion to him, or feeling any of the hungry shadows he’d whispered about in dark promise. For Hera loved him with her soul too—with every fiber of her being.

“This means nothing to me, Hera.”

“Are you trying to hurt me?”

“No, I’m simply being honest.”

“I prefer the hard truth to a pretty lie any day.”

It was in that instance that Hera saw the truth for what it was—not the words from his tongue that were like acid, but it was in his eyes. The blue flame had died and it was replaced with the warm chocolate she’d longed to see. He would love her, only he didn’t know it yet.

Hera reached up and brushed her knuckles over his cheek. “Don’t stop, Hades. Take what’s yours.”

He growled low in his throat as if the very words she spoke had cut him somehow.

“How can it be mine? I’ve given you no soft words.” His hands were on her hips and he held her flush against him.

“I told you, it’s yours. Now. Forever. No soft words in payment, only honesty.”

“Why?” he asked again.

He’d already questioned her so many times before. Why, indeed. She’d told him. It was as if he didn’t understand the concept. For a smart god, he was being unreasonably obtuse. As if he couldn’t fathom her reasons, as if what she said couldn’t possibly be true.

She didn’t speak the words again; he wasn’t ready to hear them. Instead she kissed him tenderly and said with lips all the things she couldn’t with her voice.

A sound of desire spiked with the knives of despair was torn from him and Hades grabbed her hair and tilted her face back so he could search her face.

“Deny me.”

“No.” There was no defiance in her voice, only quiet resolve.

“What if I bent you over this divan and had you right here?”

“You can have me anywhere.” She turned from him carefully, his hand still in her hair and she bent over the back of the divan.

Hera was fully clothed, but she’d never felt more naked. His sharp intake of breath indicated he liked it, but what would he do about it? His other hand slid down and cupped the rounded globes of her ass.

“Anywhere? Are you sure about that, Hera?”

“Yes,” she promised, with no hesitation. It didn’t matter if he was still testing her or not. She was his, body and soul. There was nothing he could ask to do to her that she wouldn’t allow. Except treat her as Zeus had, although she was beginning to think even if he did, it wouldn’t matter because she loved him. Being apart from him would be more painful than what any of his actions could bring.

But surprisingly, she had faith he wouldn’t. She trusted him.

Hera arched in to the caress and braced legs wide apart. “Anything, Hades.”

He jerked her leathers down around her thighs and she gasped as the cool air hit her naked skin. She shivered with the chill as well as anticipation. Hades cupped her ass again, but his fingers gravitated up toward her hips and suddenly, she felt the warmth of his breath across her sex.

He’d positioned himself beneath her, between her legs and he kissed her there, his tongue gently pushing at her seam. It shot waves of pleasure through her so sharp, she was thankful to be braced on the divan. His hot tongue was on her clit, flicking hard and fast—just as the sensation built to a fervor, he stopped to thrust inside of her again.

She cried out and pushed against him—her need seemed to please him, to drive him. He focused on her clit again and Hera fisted the woodwork finishing on the back of the divan, her nails marring the soft cherry wood.

Hades entered her with his fingers and tugged lightly on her clit with his teeth while he worked it with his tongue. She tightened her channel around his fingers as her orgasm rocketed through her. Hera was still riding the waves of pleasure, her knees weak when she felt him behind her.

She knew from experience how big his cock was and she stiffened when he pressed himself against her. Did he really mean to take her there? Hera tried to relax as she awaited his next touch.

His long, solid body covered her and he placed a soft kiss at the base of her neck. He grasped her hips and angled them so that she was splayed even wider before him and then he thrust into the wet heat of her slit.

She didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed, but she couldn’t think about it now, not with him inside of her. He filled her and held her angled for maximum penetration.

He thrust into her roughly and his hands moved from her hips to her breasts.

“Don’t love me,” he whispered raggedly.

“Why?” she managed before she bit down on her lip to fight the sensations he wrought in her.

He slowed his rhythm; kissed her neck again and then brushed his lips against the shell of her ear. “Because then Fate will take you away.”

She bucked against him, matching his pace; pleaded with him to give her more. His confession had made her soar—he needed her for more than this heat between them. Hades’ body went rigid, he was about to come.

“I don’t love you,” he said tenderly as he spilled inside of her.

But he did. She didn’t know how, not with his heart in a wooden box, but his words had been a sweet confession. Hera knew it in her soul.

“I don’t love you too.” Oh, gods, if she were wrong…

He teleported them from behind the divan, to on the divan, and Hera was atop him, her leg thrown across his thigh and he held her with her head on his chest. It was then she saw his scar was gone and she could feel his heart beating beneath her cheek.

“How?” she asked and traced a nail down his sternum.

“I heard it beating thunderously loud when we got back. I went to look and it shot itself into my chest, the bastard. Like one of those face huggers from
Alien
.” He was silent for a long moment and Hera was contest simply to be in his arms. “I knew it beat for you,” he said more quietly as if he were afraid someone would hear.

“Did it hurt?”

“Worse than prying it out. It tore my scar wide, I could see my ribs. I thought for sure you’d heard it happen.”

“Your thirty-four headed shower is kind of loud and you’re more than a little bit of a hardass.”

He loved her! His heart beat in his chest and it was of its own accord. Hera was almost giddy with the joy that was a starburst inside of her. She splayed her hand over his chest beneath her cheek and she was happy to simply feel its beat.

“I gave you a way out, Hera.” His heart was beating faster now. He was afraid? Or was he angry he felt something for her?

“I don’t want a way out.”

“Silly goddess.”

“Silly god,” she corrected. “Don’t you know how perfect you are to me? Maybe not the world, but me?”

“You have to stop saying these things, Hera. Fate will—,”

“Fate will nothing!” A woman began to take shape and Hera recognized her voice. It was Thalia.

“Uh,” Hera indicated her nakedness.

“I don’t care. I’m sick and tired of being blamed for everything that you think is a bad thing. Tell your woman you love her. Right now!” Thalia stomped her foot.

His poor heart was doing an Irish Jig in his chest. He clamped his mouth shut and shook his head in the negative. Even when Thalia narrowed her eyes. He obviously thought it was some kind of test.

“I’m not kidding,” she warned and pulled out what looked to be an embroidery sampler. “I will cut your thread…”

“Thalia, I thought you were the Muse of Comedy?”

“I am, but it’s my turn to sit in the Fate chair. And isn’t Fate supposed to be funny?”

Fate
was
funny like that.

“You know, Hades, I really ought to cut your thread this very minute. Do you have any idea how much work it’s been to get you to this very moment? Everything you thought was a shit sundae, to borrow Hera’s terminology, was a calculated move on my part to get you here. Now you’re telling me you don’t trust me? It’s bullshit. Unless you don’t want Hera?”

“It’s okay, Thalia. I don’t love him either,” she said with a soft smile.

“You two assholes deserve each other. Really. After that long heartfelt confession about the sun in the sky and dying stars and you’ve been reduced to giggly little middle school games? Ungrateful wretches.”