“No. Look at me.”

Hades’ usually stern features were softened by the candlelight, her sleeveless chiton leaving her well-muscled arms on display. Her body could have been carved by Praxiteles, from her small, high breasts to the slight curve of her waist. Her long, slender fingers resumed caressing Persephone’s cheek, and with her other hand, she pushed on Persephone’s shoulder until she lay flat on the bed, with Hades leaning over her. Persephone’s hair spilled over the pillow, and she froze, all too aware of how Hades’ chiton brushed against her bared breasts. It was not the fault of the fabric—the linen was soft and finely woven. It had been grown on the surface, but so long ago that the fiber scarcely remembered the touch of the sun upon its stalks.

Hades pinched one of her nipples, and Persephone squeaked in protest.

“It comes upon you quickly, it seems,” Hades said. “Every time you do that, I will hurt you.”

Persephone stared up at her in silent resentment, but Hades wasn’t paying attention to her face. She ran her hands over Persephone’s body, her calloused fingertips warm and sure. Persephone gritted her teeth and tried her best to endure it, but as the pressure of Hades’ knee against her thigh disappeared from her consciousness, it was like falling into a warm and tranquil pool—

Hades grabbed both of Persephone’s hands, pulling them above her head. She transferred her grip so that she was holding onto Persephone’s wrists with only one hand, squeezing tightly enough that her bones felt like they were grinding together.

Persephone cried out as all her prior sensations of comfort and warmth evaporated. She squirmed in Hades’ grasp, her senses assaulted all at once by the horrific rasp of Hades’ chiton, the way each fold of fabric pressed against her, and the warm weight of Hades’ body pinning her to the bed. If there was nowhere to go, then she had to feel—but she had dulled her senses for so long that opening herself to awareness was like waking up to find herself in Tartarus.

“Breathe, Persephone.”

She inhaled, struggling to draw enough breath with Hades crushing her. The ceiling almost looked like it was spinning, so she focused on her breath, forcing herself to relax until it stopped. Hades still hadn’t released her hands.

“Let me go.”

“Wait.”

Hades leaned in and kissed the salt on her cheeks. She released Persephone at last and her hands moved down over Persephone’s body, stopping at her hips. She untied the cords holding Persephone’s underwear together and pulled the garment free.

Persephone reached down to cover herself, and Hades shook her head. “No. Hands back where they were.”

When Persephone didn’t move, Hades sighed, her lips pursed. She raised her hand and struck Persephone across her face. “When I give an order, I expect to be obeyed. Even by you. Especially by you.”