Death's Delight

The Seduction

Hades disappears, his essence drifting into the clouds and banishing them, returning the sky to blue and restoring the gentle breeze.

Demeter has her solitude again, but peace is exiled. She can think only of her daughter at the hands of Hades.

She runs.

She runs like a wild thing, an expression of pure fear etched into her features. She runs until the earth becomes a blur beneath her feet. She runs toward Persephone, screaming her name, grasping at hope.

But by the time she reaches the meadow, it will be too late, for Hades is watching Persephone now. The passion remains, but there is no more futile longing in his eye. Instead, there is a glint of steely determination. Persephone will be his.

She wades ankle-deep in the stream, a content smile gracing her features. As the water gurgles and bubbles all around her, she splashes rainbows into the air and laughs as they fall back to earth.

Nothing can compare to the sound of her laughter, and Hades is galvanized into action. He emerges from the bushes, holding back the thunder and lightning that often signals his approach. He replaces his midnight-black armor with the sparkling, silky, raiment of the gods of Olympus.

“Persephone,” he whispers. As her name crosses his lips, he imbues it with lust, longing, and every powerful emotion he possesses.

She turns, wide-eyed. Confusion and curiosity cross her flawless face, without even a hint of fear. Persephone knows no fear.

He steps forward, arms spread open. “Persephone,” he whispers again: a low, dangerous, murmur.

As he steadily advances, she retreats, like a fawn confronted with humankind for the first time.

She steps out of the river just as it turns to ice.

Her full lips part with surprise; fear makes its first conquest into her consciousness.

This is not so much fear as a sense of wrongness. This man should not be here, violating her perfect meadow with his low voice and wolfish disguise.

“Persephone.”

This time, her name is feral growl; demanding her attention, demanding her infatuation. A bolt of cold terror strikes her heart, and she struggles against the dark enchantment with every degree of her fortitude, but she cannot resist the ardent pull, and suddenly she is drowning in the endless abyss of Death’s eyes.

She does not resist as he slips an arm around her waist, tips her chin up, and kisses her deeply. She remains powerless as he slides her silken garment off her shoulders, pooling in a coral pile at her feet. She merely utters a soft sigh as he traces the curves of her body, then threads his fingers into her hair.

Hades smiles in harsh triumph. The woman he desires so ardently stands before him, flawless, innocent, open, and completely vulnerable.

He forces himself to wait one moment, as lust reaches a fever pitch, then he pushes her against the trunk of a sturdy oak and pours every ounce of his salacious passion into her chastity, stealing all semblance of innocence.