Captive in the Underworld Read online

  Praise for Captive in the Underworld

  “A dark, erotic sapphic romance… entertaining, captivating, and exceptionally enjoyable… I read it twice in a row without stopping.” ―Rae D. Magdon, author of Lucky 7

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  “I adored this brutally ruthless Hades… likely the hottest lesbian romance novel I have had the pleasure of reading… a beautiful example of classic dark romance.” ―Roses and Thorns Book Reviews

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  “A wonderful, immersive experience… a beautifully written, atmospheric story.” ―Jewel, Goodreads reader

  Contents

  Summary

  1. Something You Want

  2. None Are Worthy

  3. The Flower

  4. It Will Pass

  5. The Gown

  6. The River

  7. Not Yet Wed

  8. The Wedding

  9. The Marriage Bed

  10. Not Dreaming

  11. Tartarus

  12. Interrogation

  13. Lessons

  14. Above Your Station

  15. Name Me

  16. Judgment

  17. Where Praise Is Due

  18. The Bathhouse

  19. Summer, Again

  20. Not Wanted

  21. As My Wife

  22. The Ascent

  23. Like Old Times

  24. Demeter

  25. The Drakon

  26. Hades

  27. Confrontation

  28. Waking

  Epilogue

  Enjoyed reading?

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  More books by Lianyu Tan

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Summary

  Some flowers bloom only in the dark…

  In the land of the dead, Queen Hades' word is law. Hades gets what she wants—always—and what she wants is a certain goddess of the springtime.

  Innocent Persephone chafes beneath her mother's hawkish gaze and mercurial temper. Demeter has rebuffed all her daughter's suitors, but she is not yet satisfied; she strives to crush Persephone's spirit.

  Still, when Hades pulls her into the dark realm of the underworld, Persephone longs for the world above, even if it means an eternity under her mother's thumb.

  With her tears and pleas for freedom ignored by pitiless Hades, Persephone must learn to satisfy her keeper in all ways, lest she suffer the consequences.

  And though she cannot deny that something blooms within her, something forbidden, Persephone despairs of ever feeling the sun upon her skin once more.

  No matter the cost, Hades intends to keep her.

  Forever.

  Captive in the Underworld is a standalone dark lesbian romance novel set in mythological ancient Greece. It is rooted in the misogyny and cruelties of the Hades/Persephone myth and contains sensitive material not suitable for all readers. Neither the publisher nor the author endorses any behavior carried out by any character in this work of fiction.

  For my precious flower.

  1

  Something You Want

  No one would blame Persephone for being so nervous she could vomit—no one except her mother, of course. Demeter’s breath was hot on her cheek; Persephone focused on maintaining her smile. Bland smile, modest clothes, and a silent tongue. Gaia forbid she do anything to embarrass her mother.

  Demeter adjusted Persephone’s girdle for the seventeenth time and smoothed the curls back from her forehead. “You’ll remember what I told you?” she asked.

  “Of course.” Persephone cleared her throat. “Mind the wine. And no promises.”

  “No promises,” Demeter echoed. She stepped back from her daughter and smiled. “Lovely.”

  Persephone did her best to look gracious, but the woolen himation wrapped around her shoulders was stifling her. It did its intended job to conceal her figure—she might as well be taking vows of chastity today, instead of attending her first celebration in what felt like forever.

  The gates of Zeus’s palace loomed above them, sparkling gold in the afternoon sun, as glorious as ever. A pair of guards nodded to them on their way in. As they passed through the gates, strains of music and laughter met their ears. The crisp, warm scents of Olympus in autumn mingled with the sweet fragrance of nectar and ambrosia. A minor godling stumbled past them, reeking of wine.

  The outer courtyard was littered with guests. It seemed like everyone in Olympus had been invited, including nymphs of the rivers, forests, and seas, and a few mortals. Persephone maintained a polite smile, even when some of the mortals passed too close and their acrid sweat offended her senses.

  Once they had reached the palace proper, a servant announced both of them. “Demeter of the Grain and her daughter, Persephone.”

  Her mother guided them through throngs of well-wishers toward the depths of the palace. Persephone followed, though her mind wandered. She ought to use this opportunity to reconnect with Athena and Artemis—it had been years since the three of them had been in the same place. The other guests, though...

  “Greetings to you upon this wondrous day.”

  Persephone turned to find Hephaestus watching her, his crooked smile endearingly shy. “And to you,” she said, trying not to stare at his leg. He’d strapped some kind of metal contraption to it, which allowed him to walk almost as if it were undamaged. The mechanics seemed more complex compared to the last time she’d seen him, though she couldn’t quite pinpoint any specific changes.

  “A good day to you, Hephaestus,” Demeter said. “We have yet to speak with Zeus.”

  He nodded. “Of course.”

  Persephone felt his eyes upon them as they continued walking, heading toward Zeus’s throne room. Her cheeks grew hot, which she did not much like. “I wonder what he wanted,” she said.

  “What do all gods want?” Demeter asked, her lovely face marred by a scowl. “Mind you dissuade him firmly.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Persephone said, distracted by the graceful curve of the arches above them. The colonnades were decorated with carvings of nymphs and small animals, cavorting as they upheld the high ceiling. It reminded her of the solemn dignity of a forest canopy.

  It was not long before they reached Zeus’s throne room. Her father, an immense hulk of a man, his face dwarfed by his beard, loomed larger than the earth herself. His voice boomed with the echo of thunder, his laughter emanating from his belly.

  Hera was not by his side, only his true-born daughter Hebe, standing behind him with her hands clasped, her gaze wandering. Despite the vast hall filled with people, Persephone wondered if he might sometimes feel lonely.

  “Kore!” Zeus said, still referring to Persephone by her childhood name. “Let me look at you. Where have you been keeping her all these years, Demeter?”

  Demeter’s forehead creased in a frown, but she prodded Persephone’s side, pushing her forward.

  Persephone stumbled for a few steps, then fell to her knees in prostration. “Skyfather, I renew my allegiance to you and your rule. My sword and my shield are yours,” she said.

  “Persephone, fruit of Demeter, daughter of mine, I accept your fealty.” Zeus took her hand, helping her rise to her feet, then slapped her back, nearly bowling her over. “Now, eat. Drink! The day is young, and we rejoice as one family.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  His attention was already gone from her, moving on to the next visitor—Poseidon, who had eyes not for Zeus but Demeter. Persephone gratefully took the opportunity to slip away whilst her elders were distracted.

  A breeze had picked up by the time she found her way into the courtyards. She ran her hands over the leaves of an ornamental fig, yellowed by lack of nutrients. The leaves brighten
ed when she touched it, though the effect would not last long without further treatment.

  She had not escaped the other revelers, but everyone else seemed preoccupied, clustered in little groups and arguing over petty trifles. She took a cup of wine from a passing servant and sipped at it, feeling its heat rush to her cheeks. A little wouldn’t hurt.

  Hephaestus found her in a courtyard. She heard him approach, distinguishing him by the unusual scuffle he made as he walked, favoring his lame leg.

  “Persephone, well met, again. I was hoping to find you; we see you so rarely. Have you the time now to entertain my attentions?” he asked.

  Persephone smiled and then stopped herself, her mother’s words echoing in her mind. “I—yes, of course. But—”

  “I wish to give you a gift on this loveliest of days.” With a flourish that seemed practiced, he revealed a small box from under his chlamys and held it out to her.

  “You shouldn’t have,” she said but saw no way to refuse him that would not seem rude. She opened the lid of the box, revealing a small metal bird nestled in cloth.

  “It winds with this key,” he said, pointing out the mechanism.

  Persephone held it on her palm and turned the key several times. To her delight, the bird flapped its wings and opened its beak, trilling out a few sweet notes.

  “Oh!” she said, enraptured. “How clever.”

  “You like it?”

  “Yes, of course! It’s beautiful.”

  The spring powering the mechanism wound down, and the bird returned to its original stationary position. Persephone placed it back in its box.

  “My forge is known best for its weapons, but I can create so much more than that,” Hephaestus said. “I prefer to make scythes over swords, at any rate.”

  “You have a true talent.”

  He smiled at her, seemingly encouraged by her words. His face set him apart from the other gods and goddesses, all paragons of beauty. Had he ever forgiven Hera for her rejection?

  “I see you’ve found us again,” Demeter said as she walked over to them. She plucked the wine cup from Persephone’s hand and drank deeply.

  Persephone uncovered her box, presenting it to Demeter. “Look, Mother. Isn’t it beautiful?”

  Demeter made an ambiguous sound, and placed her hand on Hephaestus’s shoulder. “Lovely. May I speak with you, my dear boy?” she asked, taking his arm before he could object.

  Hephaestus shot Persephone a look of alarm before Demeter led him away.

  Persephone took this opportunity to head back into the palace. Inside, a large circle had formed of dancing youths, their brows slick with sweat, their arms linked. Persephone skirted around them and grabbed a chalice of ambrosia, draining it before her mother could take this from her, too.

  She recognized Aphrodite’s perfume before she saw her—cinnamon and balsam, spicy and sweet. Aphrodite sashayed up beside her, turning to face the dancers.

  “Wonderful, isn’t it? All those beautiful bodies on display.” Aphrodite sighed, her long lashes perfectly framing her eyes as she pouted.

  “Hello to you, too,” Persephone said.

  Aphrodite dragged her gaze from the dancers to glance at her. “I wasn’t expecting to see you. It’s been an eon, hasn’t it?”

  Persephone shrugged and forced herself to smile. “Not quite, but I’m pleased to have come.”

  “Mm. Are you cold? You can’t possibly be cold. Here.” Aphrodite reached up and unwrapped Persephone’s himation, throwing it to one side. She then rearranged the neckline of Persephone’s chiton, pulling it lower to reveal more than a hint of cleavage.

  The tips of Aphrodite’s fingers tickled her skin. Persephone drew back, her face flushing. “I’m fine.” She hoisted her neckline back to its proper position.

  Aphrodite’s assessing gaze traveled from the brown curls coiffed around Persephone’s head to the smattering of freckles across her sun-kissed arms. “Yes, you’ll do,” she said. “You’ll find love tonight, I’m sure of it.”

  “I’m not looking for that.”

  Aphrodite’s eyes widened, and she leaned forward, taking Persephone into her confidence. “Everyone is looking for that. So tell me who it’s to be. Apollo? Ares? No, too pig-headed for you. I know, how about—”

  “I’d sooner join Athena and avow chastity.” Persephone reached for her himation, but Aphrodite slapped her hand away.

  “Trust me, you don’t need that. Don’t tell me Demeter will be mad. She isn’t here!”

  Yes. Her mother wasn’t here. Persephone glanced around the room, but all she could see were the dancers and their admirers, her mother nowhere in view. She inhaled, light-headed from Aphrodite’s perfume, or perhaps she had imbibed more than was wise on an empty stomach. She set Hephaestus’s gift down on a nearby table for fear of dropping it by accident.

  “Come on,” Aphrodite said, grabbing her by the wrist. “Dance with me.”

  “I don’t know the steps,” Persephone said, trying to pull away, but Aphrodite’s grip was as tight as her girdle.

  The dancers were halfway through a song, a mixed group of gods and goddesses. The circle parted to admit Aphrodite and her unwilling find; Persephone found herself staring at the feet of the dancer opposite to mirror their steps. Everyone else seemed to know the motions as she alone fumbled her way through the song, doing her best to follow the cues whilst not stepping on anyone’s toes.

  Time crawled. Through sheer dint of repetition, Persephone learned the dance well enough to take her eyes off the floor. She could not help but notice most of the dancers and onlookers staring at Aphrodite—at her golden curls and long legs, the unrestrained bounce of her chest. Persephone’s face grew hot when Aphrodite turned to her and smiled.

  “That explains so many things,” Aphrodite murmured, glancing at Persephone up and down. Her smile grew wicked.

  “I have no idea what you mean.” Persephone tore her hand from Aphrodite’s grasp and broke rank with the dancers. The circle closed behind her as she slipped out through a side passageway.

  The sounds of music and festivity faded as she walked further from the main hall, her footsteps echoing as she headed down a vast corridor. She wiped her palms on her skirts, her hands trembling. The way Aphrodite had looked at her—as though she’d been staring straight into Persephone’s heart. She could still feel Aphrodite’s fingers on her wrist.

  She wandered aimlessly, taking turn after turn until her heartbeat slowed to a more regular pace. She found herself on a walkway overlooking a courtyard, the ground one story below. She leaned against a column and covered her face with her hands.

  If Aphrodite knew, then everyone would know. Demeter would know.

  She’d not intended to have that conversation with her mother quite so soon—perhaps, not ever. It wasn’t a crime, of course, but Demeter had so thoroughly charted out the arc of Persephone’s life that she would no doubt be displeased by this revelation.

  When Persephone heard voices approaching, she froze, terrified that somehow her thoughts had summoned her mother’s presence. The voices came from the level below; she pressed her back against the column concealing her and grasped her skirts in one hand, lest the wind reveal her presence.

  “You must consider the merits of my case. Semele’s life was inordinately short, due to my dear wife’s meddling. She deserves a second chance,” said a booming male voice that she was relieved to recognize as belonging to Zeus.

  “Perhaps you should direct your question to the Fates,” said a quieter, female voice. She sounded familiar, but Persephone couldn’t quite place the speaker.

  “Bah! They have no claim over her now.”

  Persephone sank to a crouch and peeked through the banisters. Her father stood in the courtyard below, talking to a goddess whose back was turned to Persephone. She had black curly hair swept up in braids and wore a long, flowing chiton as dark as night, held firm by a belt of gold links.

  A virtuous girl would have turned and walked awa
y immediately to avoid intruding on what was clearly a private conversation. Demeter would expect no less from her.

  Persephone did not move.

  “I have noted your concerns,” the goddess said.

  “And?”

  “Lives end every moment of every day. Some are long, and some are short. I cannot make exceptions simply because you chose to make this one a vessel for your seed.”

  Persephone clasped her hands over her mouth to prevent a gasp. She should’ve left when they’d first entered the courtyard; this was not a conversation meant for her ears. She did not care to displease anyone who could speak so imprudently to the great Zeus.

  “There must be something you want,” Zeus said.

  The goddess did not speak for a long time. When she broke the silence, Persephone had to strain to hear her. “What could I possibly want? No god can match my riches; not even you.”

  “Perhaps that was a mistake.”

  Persephone heard the smile in the goddess’s voice. “Ah, well. But the great Skyfather could not possibly make mistakes, could he?”

  “We’ll discuss this later,” Zeus snapped and strode off, the fabric of his robe flying out behind him from the speed of his steps.

  Persephone glanced around, wondering how to make a discreet exit. If she suddenly appeared and continued on her way in full sight of the courtyard, it would be obvious that she’d been eavesdropping. If only—

  The goddess turned and looked directly at Persephone’s hiding spot. Persephone understood now how she’d been able to speak so disrespectfully to Zeus, not caring if she offended him.