Chapter Four

IV – Touch Me Not

PROSERPINA:

The corpse of the beheaded empousa fell straight to the ground with a sinister thud, limbs splayed in awkward angles like a macabre piece of artwork, its head rolling to the side a second after, some of its blood splattering around the grass which was quickly being washed by the rain.

A beat after, Proserpina manifested to the ground in a low crouch, right next to her kill, ignoring the blood on her shoes.

‘Someone's watching.’

She slowly turned to look over her shoulder, eyes narrowed–right into the direction where she last sensed him.

‘Your werewolf…’

Frowning, she peered deeper into the shadows and almost reeled back when vivid, dark brown eyes stared right back at her.

“Why are you following me?” Proserpina demanded.

‘A man had made you the object of their interest once more…’ Thanatos commented, sounding far too amused for her liking, ‘…never a good thing.’

The werewolf moved closer to where she is, completely ignoring the natural path, heading directly towards her, causing the shadows on the ground to darken and burst at her feet, flaring to life and moving agitatedly like tentacles.

Her shadows were a silent warning for him not to come any closer. It was supposed to be an act of intimidation but much to her annoyance, the werewolf seemed impressed.

“How could I not follow a woman as beautiful as you?” the werewolf asked, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, his voice husky. The dirt had been washed clean from his skin, showing off his still-bare chest and torso and all the strong planes that was his handsome face.

Seeing him up close, Proserpina mentally congratulated herself for being right: he did have a Mediterranean complexion and he does have eyes the color of dark chocolate, her favorite sweets. His lashes were long, thick and curled in an artful way that a lot of girls would surely envy and hate him for having eyelashes that long.

Huh, Proserpina blinked as she stared for a moment. She hadn't noticed that back then. And now she did, it kind of hurt to look away.

His intense gaze met her own for a few more moments before the werewolf slowly took in every feature of her face as though he was searching for something in her eyes–making Proserpina a bit self-conscious then panicky for a split-second, had he seen her staring at him earlier?–and she tried so hard not to shift and fidget in front of him like a guilty child.

But no, there wasn't a hint of judgment or mockery within those eyes. The way the werewolf looked at her was actually kind of flattering... as if she was a normal woman and not a feared goddess of the underworld. He looked at her as though she was simply beautiful.

Proserpina blinked.

And the sudden sense of awareness immediately flowed through every single nerve when his gaze slowly wandered to her body and inaudibly swallowed, licking his lips, clearly liking what he saw.

‘Enough–’

“State your name.”

He grinned broadly, appearing absurdly pleased at the chance of having to introduce himself, “Alastor Nyx of the Northern Pack.”

Proserpina raised an eyebrow at that.

How curious… Alastor Nyx is Ancient Greek that literally means avenger of the night, if translated in typical-tongue.

What an oddly fitting name...

“...but you can call me Al,” the werewolf offered with an equally cheeky wink as he drew nearer despite the steadily darkening shadows whipping violently around her.

Proserpina wordlessly moved away right when his feet was about to make contact with one of the agitated shadows, not daring to keep her back turned away from him, her eyes never leaving his as they slowly began circling each other.

“You know... I have never seen anyone fight like you before,” Alastor carried on, his tone still bright and conversational despite her silence.

‘That never gets old…’         

“Oh? Never saw a goddess before?” Proserpina retorted coldly, waiting for the inevitable fear to show in his eyes.

But to her shock and satisfaction, his eyes simply glowed knowingly. “Not really, no…” Alastor admitted, hands in his pockets as he swayed on the balls of his feet, “…but even for a goddess, what kind of devil did you make a deal with to have a kind of power like that?”

Proserpina almost took a step back from him. Which one? Both had done something entirely different to me.

Her jaw clenched as the memories on Roman's dungeon began to play right before her eyes as vivid as the night it happened, the desecration, the screams, her father's underground temple, dying, her body being burned–

But his voice, clear and light snapped her out of it.

“Is your sword magical?”

‘What?’

She blinked, completely taken aback. What?

Thanatos all but screamed there and then, making her internally wince, ‘…did he seriously just called me a–?!’

When she registered what Alastor just asked, Proserpina very nearly bursted out laughing at the innocent question despite the sudden flare of annoyance–‘why are you laughing? Don’t laugh–’ she felt from the god of death still in her hands.

A barely visible smile painted her lips.

“Careful there,” Proserpina managed to tell him without laughing, still terribly amused, “...Thanatos has taken lives for less.”

Indeed, Thanatos–the god of death, her father's right hand–had been delegated as her personal weapon on the night she was named as heir of the underworld in order to keep her soul bound and the former to split his immortality with the relatively new goddess.

The god of death's vessel was a black sword with a polished blade, the hilt engraved with the name of Thanatos through Proserpina's human dried blood, binding death to her in perpetuity…

Alastor whistled, impressed.

She scoffed, “What, you actually thought of me to be weak?”

“Never… but for you to have such impressive talent and a beauty of your caliber as well,” Alastor asked, sending her a conspiratorial smile, “Hardly fair to other beings, don't you think?”

Luckily for them, Proserpina had no interest indulging on anyone's attention, let alone her own vanity. Her father had made sure of it ten years ago; and if not that… well, one of the many unspoken reasons why Thanatos was with her.

For the time being… or so Hades said.

When she did not deign for a response, Alastor's playful expression began to turn serious, “Are you really Proserpina?” Goddess of the shadows, heir to the underworld–keeper of death…

“...I am.”

‘At least he did not mistake you for a nymph like Apollo once did,’ Thanatos grumbled, apparently still miffed.

As usual, she ignored him.

“...I would normally say that you're such an enchanting goddess but that would be an understatement. Your incredible prowess is beyond that of your kind,” the werewolf muttered, eyeing her from head to toe with clear relish.

This moron… should not let the other gods hear him say that. They would surely throw a fit for such an ‘insult’ and chaos will break loose.

This time, Proserpina actually rolled her eyes at the thought, “Oh please, do spare me the flattery. It will get you nowhere.”

“I'm not flattering you if it's the truth,” Alastor told her simply with a careless shrug, “Although... I'm kind of worried it will not be as easy as that.”

 “Easy? What are you talking about?”

Alastor opened his mouth, and then closed it again, looking over at her in a curious way which made her eyes narrow suspiciously. Suddenly, Proserpina had a strange feeling that whatever Alastor had been about to tell her–for some reason–he had decided against it, instead:

“Seduction,” Alastor finally answers, a knowing smile creeping on his lips, “I heard rumors that the goddess Proserpina was said to be notoriously difficult to seduce.”

. . .

“I was told she is a melancholic soul.

She is like the sun to night,

A momentary gold

A star when dimmed by dawning light;

The flicker of a candle blown

A lonely kite lost in flight—

Someone once had flown”

―Lang Leav

. . .

‘What.’

This man–werewolf, Proserpina gently reminded herself–wanted to seduce her? No talk of a date, of courting, just... that.

What the hell.

‘PROSERPINA! For the love of your father, please don't tell me you are actually considering this… thing! Think of the consequences! It's not worth it!’

Forget about considering bringing the werewolf to her bed.  She was actually tempted to... to punch this moron.

“...I am difficult, you say?” Proserpina finally asked, her voice growing cold as she slowly appraised him from head to toe with a deliberately apparent disdainful gaze, “I am certain if you tried to seduce anyone, let alone a god in such a dreadful state–unshaven, bloody, half-dressed, and half-covered in mud, not to mention you smell of dirt and sweat–you would be rejected.”

He actually winced at that, absentmindedly running a palm over his chin, seemingly surprised to find some stubble there, “Today is not my day…” Alastor murmured, almost to himself.

“Then you should be on your way!” Proserpina suggested brightly, all false cheer with a single clap, “My uncles always said that nothing cheers up a man than a passionate night spent with a horde of gorgeous nymphs. Have fun with your groupies.”

“I don't want them. Any of them…” Alastor grumbled, as though he already had this kind of conversation before–he probably did, “...even before I saw you.”

For some reason, Proserpina can feel heat steadily creeping up her pale cheeks at the absolute sincerity in his voice, even though a part of her was outraged at the sheer audacity but another part–the larger part of her was absurdly pleased to hear that… despite the very vocal protests of Thanatos in her head–‘Forget this. Forget it. And forget him! Just go home, prinkípissa, JUST GO HOME ALREADY!’

Home...

Right, Proserpina has finished her mission, after all.

She needed to get home now, back to William before Queen Persephone starts complaining again to Hades about her being out and away for so long and have her dragged to her father’s court, far away from this werewolf.

“I am flattered… but I am not interested.” Proserpina finally remembered to say, watching the smile slip from his face for a second.

With that, Proserpina turned her attention to dispose of the empousa’s remain properly, intending to feed it to Cerberus once her inevitable return to the underworld is settled and knowing the queen, she will be brought straight to her father's domain.

Proserpina opened her hand for the empousa's head but Alastor suddenly stepped forward and dropped down on one knee making her tense, what the hell, are you going to pop open a ring now–as he picked it all up, ignoring the still-dripping blood coming from it, as if he was being a gentleman, retrieving a dropped handkerchief for his fair lady in the Victorian era instead of handling a beheaded corpse.

Maybe she was wrong about him–

Then, he threw it away, way high up into the air as it sailed past until even she can no longer see where it landed.

He gave her a boyish grin, followed by a thumbs-up.

...maybe not, Proserpina sighed at his antics.

A being as persistent as Alastor Nyx would prove to be Proserpina’s downfall if she is not careful dealing with him; a handsome face that literally concealed a beast… if the lore concerning his kind during the full moon is to be taken seriously–the possibility of him overpowering her in a fight with sheer strength alone still stands, after all–then he might as well be a threat even to a minor deity like her.

With her task done, Proserpina gently tugged off of her gloves and half-turned away from him, the shadows already growing to take her home… but Alastor suddenly held his hand out, his fingers very nearly touching the shadow as he stood up, as if intending to follow her.

At that, Proserpina wordlessly commanded the shadows to disperse all at once before it stole his. She glared at the stormy skies, her gaze tired and accusing because she was so certain that somewhere out there in the clouds, way up high in Mount Olympus... there was a certain goddess of love laughing while watching Proserpina's current dilemma.

Then again, it could be Eros for all she knew…

“Are you deaf or are you dense?” Proserpina snapped, not bothering to look behind her, “I am not interested.”

“Is this because I'm a werewolf?”

‘No, because you're a man…’

Proserpina felt guilty when she finally turned around and saw the genuine hurt on his face, his dark chocolate like eyes gleaming amidst the rain, reminding her of an adorable kicked puppy, begging for affection... then, she immediately felt annoyed with herself for even feeling guilty.

(Shame, he’d make a wonderful puppy…)

“The rumors you heard? They are wrong. I am not hard to seduce... I cannot be seduced. And gods considers everything below us to be no better than animals or playthings so it is best for you to be on your way and forget about it,” Proserpina told him, hoping to get her point across,

“I wasn't asking them. I was talking to you,” Alastor narrowed his eyes at her, “But I'm sure you don't agree with their perspective or you wouldn't want me to be your mate.”

This time, Proserpina did not bother to hide her shock, “Mate...?”

A shadow passed over his face.

“Well, that one came out wrong…” Alastor muttered. But he quickly recovered, smiling easily again, “So? What should I call you?”

“Proserpina,”

Was he even listening?

He raised an eyebrow at her, “So… I take it you're named after your mother? Well, no surprise there. Hades was known to be a good husband, after all. That’s sweet.”

What the hell, what the actual f –... why does everyone keep assuming that Persephone was Proserpina's actual mother or they are the same being–which they were not just because they were both goddesses of the underworld?

Sometimes, Proserpina wished Hades had named her something else rather than naming her after his wife. She can already feel a blooming headache just thinking about her unoriginal name.

Proserpina visibly exhaled for a moment, and then grudgingly answered: “No. My real name is Winters Veil though I am now referred as Proserpina on the night I became a goddess.”

“Winters Veil…” Alastor repeated slowly, as though he was tasting, was savoring her name on his tongue. She stopped herself from shivering at the absurdly pleased look on his face, “Well, then, Winters,”–a boyish grin curled his lips–“…you have enchanted me.”

A pleasant shiver danced over her spine at that, a fuzzy, fluttering feeling making her feel light and airy, but just as swiftly, a sense of dread filled her at once, along came the ice-cold realization that Proserpina had no business here, not anymore, especially responding to the advances of the man in front of her.

Alastor Nyx, like the other men of his kind were celebrating some sort of event and he had just left a bunch of nymphs and a guaranteed revelry for the night with them. He would expect sex from a woman.

He said so.

He implied that he had wanted to–with her.

Which she could never give to him–even if she wanted to, which she most certainly did not– without disaster.

So why was her gaze wandering and descending down to his chest? Proserpina quickly willed her gaze to bolt upwards at that, her cheeks no doubt completely flushed red no thanks to her pale skin–internally relieved when she found his gaze was still stuck to her.

Or not…

Her clothes were obviously drenched and sticking closely to her skin and Alastor was staring so hard at them as if he personally wanted to rip her clothes off of her, if his twitching claws were any indication.

Proserpina did not know if she should be flattered or horrified with the way he was looking at her right now. More so when she realized that Thanatos had suddenly grown eerily silent.

Since when, she no longer knew…

Now, she felt alone.

Not really... just with an unfairly attractive werewolf right in front of her who so obviously wanted her. No, for real, where the hell is Thanatos and his condescending voice when she needed the distraction the most?!

Nevertheless, Proserpina unsheathed his vessel, the sound making her wince internally, “Leave... or I'll make you wish you had.”

“Not happening.”

Proserpina suddenly felt the most childish urge to stomp her foot in frustration at that, “Why?”

At Alastor's determined expression, a sudden idea crossed her mind, one that was so ridiculous it hardly warranted another second thought.

But... could it be–

She gulped, regarding him a bit nervously.

“I... I'm not... I'm not your mate, or anything, right?” Proserpina asked, already dreading the answer as soon the words left her lips. Please say no, please say no, please say no, please say no gods this is... this is not what I wanted, oh gods no,  fates please–

But Alastor quickly shook his head at her, causing Proserpina to let out a visible sigh of relief, “Nope but I wish.”

“…Pity.”

When Alastor tried to take one more step again, Proserpina promptly summoned one of her cursed daggers instead of striking him down with the already-unsheathed Thanatos.

This man–werewolf–was annoying her yes, but Proserpina was not that much of a cruel god enough to actually kill him just because he was stubborn and did not know the meaning of I'm not interested.

Maybe he wasn't used having such advances turned down?

...somehow, that annoyed her even more.

Without another word, Proserpina aimed for his jugular, which wouldn't kill a being like him since the dagger is not meant to kill.

The dagger was a farewell gift from the son of Hypnos, the third demigod. If used, it would simply paralyze the body, render it helpless after a minute the blade remained stuck in their body which would give her enough time to use her shadows to leave without the werewolf following her–she'd lift the enchantment as soon she got home.

The idea of fleeing from a monster left a bitter taste in her mouth but she didn't really like fighting unless she had to.

“Stop right where you are, or I swear I will plunge this thing into your neck, Alastor Nyx,” Proserpina warned.

Frustratingly enough, Alastor didn't stop right where he was, leaning in even closer, as if taunting her, “You would not do such a thing, dear goddess, when I mean you no harm?” he all but purred the question, his warm breath wafting pleasantly across her chilled skin.

Proserpina did not answer.

She was not fooling around.

At the hostile look on her face, Alastor's expression suddenly turned impatient, as if he couldn't understand where her caution was even coming from.

He took one more step–

She struck.

“What the hell!” Alastor bellowed, sounding more surprised than hurt that she actually followed through the threat, scowling down at the blade embedded on the flesh beneath the flesh of his collar bone.

At the very last second, Proserpina had decided to change her aim. Moving backwards, a few feet away from Alastor, she reminded him coldly, “I told you not to come closer.”

Alastor growled and grabbed the hilt, trying to get the dagger off of him, but it seemed impossibly hard to do so–she made sure it remained stuck. “Seriously, Winters? What the fuck? Get this thing off me! It stings!”

At hearing her name, the corner of her lips quirked. Why are we on first name basis already? She schooled her features quickly at that, “Why should I?”

“Because, Winters…” Alastor suddenly started to walk towards her again, apparently planning to ignore the dagger and the blood steadily dripping from his wound, “...by the end of this night, the two of us will be sharing a bed and you'll feel silly for stabbing your bedmate.”

With an exasperated sigh, Proserpina began walking backwards into the shadows, intending to escape through it now, “Whatever you say, mate.”

Despite the pain he was in–because surely that should have hurt, Alastor suddenly smirked, looking strangely and annoyingly endeared, “This thing really stings like hell, you know, but it's also kind of flattering.”

“Excuse me?”

“You unsheathed your sword but you didn't use it. You stabbed me but you chose a dagger that hurts but isn't sharp enough to even kill–which means you don't really want to murder me. Damn, you could be into BDSM for all I know and okay, that’s freaking hot…” Alastor suddenly paused, looking at her weirdly, “Wait a minute... is this how you flirt in the underworld?”

Proserpina immediately composed herself, “I have never flirted before. And no, I do not engage in such depraved practices.”

“Well, that makes sense!” Alastor sassed, sarcastically pointing at the dagger still stuck to his flesh, “Because this hurts.”

Proserpina rubbed a hand over her face, her patience already running thin–she was surprised it lasted long, “Very well… if I remove it, will you please just leave me alone?”

It wasn't really in her nature to torture another being... unless they had it coming, of course. Besides, even if she did remove the dagger, the effects would still take place after being embedded in–

Alastor snarled, "Leave you alone? Forget it. I'll do this myself."

With that being said, he grasped the hilt of the dagger before pulling it out of his skin in a vicious manner, never mind the wound or how much that would have caused him pain.

Stunned, she stared at him with wide eyes as he threw the bloody dagger aside, eyeing it with distaste before slowly turning to look at her, smug and triumphant. It didn't even take a minute stuck in him, Proserpina realized, keeping her jaw clenched to keep it from gaping at him.

Alastor resumed his advance on her once more, licking his lips as he stalked closer, barely giving a wince at his wounds, gaze never faltering.

Without thinking, Proserpina took a step back, internally debating if she should summon the dagger back into her palm. If she can't paralyze him, she'll slow him down at least with a hit on the leg, this time.

As if sensing her thoughts, Alastor said: “I believe I've earned the right to be in your company– as well a kiss from you.”

Despite herself, Proserpina made a sudden sound of frustration, “As if you'd be satisfied with a simple kiss?!” she snapped, “You expected to have sex with me and for the last forsaking time, it will not happen–!”

“But you want it too, don't you?” Alastor interrupted, smirking.

It was the same smirk he had on when she first laid her eyes on him; his victorious, smug, ever-knowing smirk that completely caught her attention–enraptured her–to the point that she had basically lingered instead of just striking down her prey.

If Proserpina had attacked instead of lingered would have things been different? Does it even matter at this point?

...I'm in trouble.