When it was over, she lay there, spent and boneless, listening to the thudding beat of her own heart. Her skin felt unpleasantly warm, relieved slightly by the cool chill to the air. The candles had guttered out, leaving only the gray twilight streaming through the window. Hades shifted and sat up, her weight leaving the bed. Persephone rolled onto her side, brought her knees together and raised them to her chest, wishing her arms were free so that she could wrap them around herself.

She heard Hades pouring more wine and the scrape of objects being moved. Hades returned to the bed and offered Persephone a chalice, holding it up to her lips.

She sipped from it. It was well-watered, the way she preferred to serve herself. Its cool, acidic tang helped to ease her dry throat.

Hades set the chalice down and untied her wrists. Persephone whimpered as the feeling came back to her fingertips and massaged the red marks the cords had cut into her skin.

Hades moved the hair back from Persephone’s face, and she flinched. Had she been so foolish to think this nightmare might be over?

“You remained present,” Hades said. “It pleased me.”

“Not from lack of wanting.”

“Even better. To desire something and resist the urge is the type of discipline that civilizations are built upon.”

“Why don’t you resist your urges?”

Hades stilled, and she wondered if she’d gone too far. But then, Hades smiled. “Why should I? I have been waiting a long time for you, Persephone, Demeter’s daughter. I will not be denied a moment longer.” She placed two fingers beneath Persephone’s chin and kissed her. Persephone tasted the salt of her own arousal, its edge bitter on her tongue.

Persephone drew back and swung at her. Hades allowed the blow to connect, receiving the flat of Persephone’s palm across her face. When Persephone drew back her hand for another strike, Hades grabbed her.

“One was enough, I think.”

Persephone tugged at her arm, but Hades’ grip was firm. “Let me go.”

“No.” Hades turned her attention to Persephone’s neck, her teeth closing around the soft spot just above the gold chain encircling her throat.

Persephone forced down a scream, her free palm braced against Hades’ shoulder trying to push her away.

Hades drew back and looked at her work. She hooked a finger beneath the necklace and rubbed the metal with her thumb. “My chain suits you. As do bruises.”

“You are a degenerate.”

“If I were a god, would you say such a thing? One man’s sin is another man’s pleasure.”

Persephone remained silent. If Hades had been a god, Persephone would not have been compelled to eavesdrop upon her at Zeus’s party, all those years ago, and perhaps she would not have aroused Hades’ interest. Surely that would’ve been the better outcome for both of them.