Free My Lord Hades by Stephannie Beman

left you an empty husk!”
    Persephone screamed. The world blackened.
    HADES TOSSED in his bed, twisting the sheets tighter around his body, powerless to pull
    himself out of his dream, not that he wanted to end the dream. He never wanted it to end, for she was with him in every way a Phlegethon could wish.
    He was standing in the clearing, watching her dance in the moonlight from his place in the shadows of the mighty oak, his fingers digging into the cold bark of the tree.
    She stopped, her song dying mid-note. She lifted her gaze to his, a sparkle in her eyes and a large smile playing on her lips. Her skin glowed in the light of the moon. She glided toward him, the slight breeze molding the white dress against her feminine form and causing flowers to flutter from her hair.
    She opened her arms. “Come to me, my dear Hades.
    The longing tore at his heart as he joined her in the moonlight, taking her into his arms, kissing her. She returned the kiss, molding her body to his. It had been way too long since he had felt the tender touch of a woman and he felt like a starving man devouring the finest morsel, tasting the honeyed sweetness of her mouth.
    In the real world he would never act upon such a temptation. He’d been sixteen when he’d
    first and last kissed a woman. Menthe had nearly been drained of life.
    But here in the land of dreams, anything could happen. It was safe to indulge in his every fantasy. He could touch her, he could dance with her, and he could make love to her, and not fear hurting her.
    Holding her at arms’ length, his hungry eyes devoured Persephone’s lush form from her light auburn hair to her plump breasts begging to be loosed from her dress to her bare feet.
    He pushed the dress off her shoulders, taking in the beauty of her breasts. He couldn’t take his eyes off of them. He caressed their softness.
    He pushed the dress off her hips, letting it pool around her feet. He took a step back so he could admire her nakedness. Soft, pale skin. Taut, rosy nipples. Narrow waist and the gentle flare of her hips. The mound of dark auburn curls concealing the moist folds of her pussy. Long, shapely legs he wanted to feel wrapped around him as he entered her.
    He groaned, his cock pressed against his belly demanding to be buried inside her. Hauling her body against his, her flat stomach cushioned his erection. His mouth locked over her rosy lips. She responded to his kiss, pressing herself tightly against him, hands roaming over his back and buttocks.
    He lowered her to the ground, touching her, feeling her. She moaned in pleasure as he
    pressed his hardened flesh deep inside her.
    He woke, his hips humping the feather tick beneath him. He was sweaty, his pulse racing,
    and his cock throbbed in need. He flipped over, cursing these dreams, and stared up at the white cloth forming the canopy of his bed.
    Was this how it was to be? A new torture bestowed upon him. Wasn’t Tartarus enough?
    Groaning, he threw the pillow over his head. His dreams teased him. They allowed him
    touch, but not feel. They made him crave more of what he knew wasn’t for him.
    Had he been another god or even a mortal, perhaps things could be different. But he was not.
    He was the son of Eris. He was a Phlegethon daemon. He was Hades and everything he touched died. He had nothing to offer a woman but pain, misery, and unrequited dreams. Had not his time with Menthe taught him anything?
    He could still hear Menthe’s groan of pleasure transform into screams of pain as
    unadulterated power poured over her. It consumed her energy and weakened her nigh to death.
    Her screams tore him from the passion in time to leash the beast. In that moment, the devastating power coursing through his blood demanded he claim her. He would’ve killed her with a simple kiss and only regretted it after.
    The cold reality was Persephone was magic bound, she wasn’t his equal, and despite what his raging hormones seemed to think, she wasn’t his mate.