His voice was laced with contempt. “You should not be here.”
The dog whimpered, but stayed at her side. Her hands kneaded the animal’s fur, all the while assessing Hades’ mood. He was angry, truly angry. The tension in his stance, the rigid line of his jaw, made him even more fascinating, and glorious, to look upon.
She could not speak, not yet. Her gaze fastened on his face, remembering the caress of his breath upon her cheek, the press of his lips upon hers… Her hands clung to the hound, keeping her from swaying on her knees. Truly, her body seemed to rise, stirred by his presence. She had thought of him so many times. Had he thought of her?
His face was hard as granite, his jaw clenched fiercely. He would not look at her.
“Come,” he bit out the word, startling her again. His gaze fixed on the hound at her side.
She sat back, releasing the animal. The hound shifted from paw to paw, whimpering, but did not leave her. His brown eyes looked between the two of them nervously.
“Go on,” she murmured, smoothing a hand over her dirtied skirts. Her hands, she noted, trembled. She stilled, resting her clenched hands on her knees. She must steady herself.
Even his anger pleased her. He was here.
“Did Hermes send you?” his words were soft.
She could scarce contain the surprise on her face at his words. “No, no… No one sent me. Well, that’s not true. The grass, the trees…” She hesitated, choked once more from their pain. “The fire was large. As was the suffering, such suffering that all things green and growing called out to me.”
“And you came?” His eyes flitted over her face, so quick she feared she imagined it. “Did your plants tell you the cause of the suffering?”
She nodded, swallowing. “And that those responsible were gone…”
He sighed, shaking his head. “Persephone.”
She stood, knowing she was covered in the filth and grime of her labor. “I have a duty, like you, Hades. I know it’s trivial, perhaps, when compared with you or Hera… or my mother. But they, the plants, rarely ask anything of me. How could I deny them? I could not.”
His gaze swept over her, lingering on her muddied skirts. When his eyes found hers, he winced. He drew himself up, stepping back, as if pained.
“Does your mother know you are here?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. She was needed elsewhere. The Persians are nothing if not thorough in their travels.”
He moved so quickly, she took a step back. His face was tight with fury. His tone was hard and bitter. “Go home, Persephone…”
She stared at him, his words all but lost on her. He stood so close she could smell the heady musk scent of him. She leaned forward, letting her eyes feast upon him. His eyes were blood shot, rimmed with black shadows. “You are tired,” she said.
A sigh, hiss-like and exasperated, slipped between his compressed lips. “Persephone…”
“You should rest.” She was scarce aware that her hand rose, reaching for him. But his hand caught her wrist and his grip upon her was bruising.
“Do not,” he rasped, holding her still. “You play at things you know nothing of. You come here, to heal what needs no healing. Death is a renewal for life, is it not? Yet you would venture out, alone and unprotected, for adventure? Have you so little respect for your lady mother? For Olympus? You are a Goddess, albeit unnecessary, whose fate impacts us all.”
She wanted to recoil, but his grip only tightened. His words, hot and biting, fell upon her shoulders like blows.
“If you are taken or injured, your carelessness would endanger all else. Demeter, and no doubt Zeus, would not let the matter rest. Those fighting this battle would suffer their indifference because of your selfishness.” His nostrils flared and his blue-black eyes bore into hers. “Because of you.”
Persephone blinked back tears. His words rang true. She would never forgive herself if she endangered another…
“Get you home, now.” He released her wrist roughly, causing her to tip unsteadily.
She nodded, swallowing her tears. “I would never…” she paused, breathing deeply. “Forgive me…”
His expression twisted, causing her heart to seize painfully. He was angry with her, yes. But he was disappointed too. And that knowledge settled coldly into the pit of her stomach.
He turned, glancing over his shoulder. “Come, I will see you home.”
She nodded, overcome with pitiful sobs. She could not stop. Had she chased any hope of his affection away? She sniffed, following behind him. Did he really think so lowly of her? Was she… was she unnecessary?