Soon Cerberus had her naked and writhing, straddling him as he lay on the floor, his hounds surrounding them on every side, giving him the audience he sought for this claiming. With her handmaiden’s dress torn down from her shoulders, her breasts peeking upward in the cold air, she rode him—and only him—filling his ears with cries and blissful screams.
He may look like Hades, but it was Cerberus Cyane mounted. Terrible, dark, immoral satisfaction filled him, and he came hard deep inside his mortal.
Tonight, two gods were born.
Tonight, they had served.
“Lovingly,” he groaned as she collapsed onto his chest as her own climax strangled his cock.
“Lovingly?” she whispered back. “Love,” she amended. Her lips formed into a smile against his flesh.
She fell asleep on him, and a rare smile tugged his lips up. He lifted her in his arms and moved her to the bed, where he covered her with his body and trapped her beneath him.
He never experienced more warmth, inside and out, never thought his existence could be so sublime—believing his servitude and his duty was the epitome of existence. Cerberus inhaled her scent and groaned. She belonged to him, she swore fealty to him, and for that, he would never let her go.
Six Months with Cerberus
It wasweeks before Hades and Persephone emerged from Hades’s chambers. Weeks of quiet, euphoric bliss.
Cyane missed her friend greatly but knew Persephone would be all right without her. In that time, Cerberus took her everywhere with him, showing her the hidden secrets of the realm of the dead and all its shadowy glory. He showed her the flowers and plants her queen had created, the halls of Hecate and her loyal followers, where enchanting singing could always be heard, Menoetes’s fields of black cattle, and Pyriphlegethon, the forever burning river of fire.
But today wasn’t quiet, nor euphoric. Hades had summoned them to the throne for punishment for their crimes.
Cyane wrung white-knuckled hands into the skirts of her dress, a simple beige peplos that hung loosely to the floor. She stood alone in the atrium, waiting to be called into the ballroom.
The large doors creaked opened far too soon. The ballroom slowly appeared before her. Her eyes landed on the God of the Dead and her beautiful Goddess of Spring sitting on their thrones. Cerberus knelt before them already.
Cyane started. Hades wore the same horned helmet as he had when she’d first encountered him long ago, when he ripped Persephone from her arms.
“Come in, Cyane,” Hades’s voice bellowed through the space, hitting her like a punch to the gut.
I can do this.
Cyane straightened and took comfort in Persephone’s presence as she strode to the dais. There were other gods of the court in attendance—Hecate, Hypnos, and the three Judges of the Dead she’d met her first day here. Minos smiled at her. She wished he’d use his calming hum for her right now.
There were darker, scarier gods in attendance that she didn’t know, and her gaze roved over them quickly. If she hadn’t met them, there must’ve been a reason. Many of their faces she didn’t even recognize from the days of festivities.
Melinoe and Hermes were missing. She hadn’t seen either one since the descent—the Day of Deviance.
Cyane reached Cerberus and knelt beside him, lowering her face to the gleaming obsidian floor.
She feared, more than anything now, that Hades would split her and Cerberus apart. She couldn’t bear the thought, couldn’t swallow the lump in her throat, or inhale enough air for a sure breath. She wanted to reach out and take Cerberus’s hand but didn’t dare.
Hades spoke. “You have defied my wants and wishes, schemed to upend my plans, and coerced loyal subjects of my court to aid you in your betrayal.”
Was Hades speaking to her, to Cerberus, or to both of them? Her heart thundered.
“You, Cyane, danced with Melinoe a day too soon. You conspired not only with her, but with Hermes and Cerberus to leave without my knowledge. Not only did your choice go against my wishes, but you came back to us in an unnatural way. You are not a god, and do not have a contract in place to come and go as you please.”
Hades sighed audibly. It took a fair bit of willpower for Cyane to keep her eyes down. She knew of some of her transgressions, but dancing with Melinoe came as a surprise.
“Cerberus”—Hades’s voice darkened—“you ignored my commands on several occasions during the festivities. You conspired with Hermes, Melinoe, and Cyane against me and my wishes, knowing full well I granted no being allowance to leave my realm for the duration of the celebration. You assumed to know my thoughts and questioned me in front of the court. You lied to me on numerous occasions. And above all,” the tension in the ballroom built, “When I told you to enjoy yourself, I didn’t mean for you to enjoy yourself that much!” A few of the courtiers dared to giggle, but more of Hades’s long-winded sighing followed.
“Cyane, raise your eyes,” Hades ordered.
She jerked. The God of the Underworld glared down at her with annoyed solemnity. She glanced at Persephone who smiled. Cyane’s muscles eased, if only a little, knowing that her friend would not let harm come her way.
But would it shield Cerberus?
