Page 190 of Captive Heart

“Hades, do you take Penny as your beloved wife, to have and to hold, through laughter and in sadness, through challenges and successes, so long as you both shall live?”

Hades’ gaze bores into mine. I swear, I see a hint of tears when he utters his oath. “I do.”

“Penny, do you take Hades as your beloved husband, to have and to hold, through laughter and in sadness, through challenges and successes, so long as you both shall live?”

“I do!” I squeak, wishing madly that I wasn’t crying in front of Hades’ whole family. They’ll have to forgive me though, because Hades is mine.

Now and forever.

The priest pulls out the rings, each in one of his hands.

“A ring for each of you,” he announces.

There are a few moments of fumbling, putting rings on fingers and grinning through tears.

The priest nods and holds up his hands, making a declaration. “Hades and Penny, I happily pronounce you husband and wife. Hades, you may now kiss the bride.”

Hades slides his hand along my cheek and cups the back of my head, lowering his mouth to mine.

I make a soft sound as his lips touch mine; he tastes sweet and clean, like fresh mint. When his mouth opens and his tongue touches mine, sweeping the inside of my mouth, I put my arms around his neck and plow my hands into the back of his hair.

He sweeps me off my feet, kissing me all the while, as all our friends and family rise and cheer. And I feel safe in the knowledge that I’m in his arms, right where I should be, right where I will be for the rest of my life.

PartOne

Queen’s Sacrifice Extended Epilogue

ChapterOne

Penny

The haze of sleep lifts reluctantly from me, clinging to the edges of my consciousness like wisps of fog. Dawn's gray fingers pierce through the curtains. A groan escapes my lips involuntarily. It’s a testament to the life growing inside me, asserting its presence upon my tired body. Every movement feels like a battle, my body no longer fully mine but a vessel for the tiny heartbeat pulsing beneath my skin.

Struggling against the weight that seems to anchor me to the mattress, I make a herculean effort to sit up. My muscles resist, heavy and unyielding, reminding me of my fragility. The simple act of rising has become a distant memory, stolen by the swell of my belly that now feels as full and taut as a promise.

The door creaks softly, announcing his arrival. Hades, a whispered legend in the shadows of this world. His silhouette fills the doorway, dark and commanding. Yet it's the concern etched on his face that captures me. His eyes, usually as steely as his empire, now hold mine with an intensity that contradicts his usual stoicism.

"Lass, let me assist ye," Hades murmurs, crossing the room swiftly. His hands, usually symbols of power and control, reach out with unexpected gentleness. One arm supports my back while the other cradles my legs; with strength and care combined in his movements, he helps me into a sitting position.

Arranging pillows behind me like soft fortresses against discomfort, he creates a throne amidst rumpled sheets. Here I can face the morning with some semblance of grace. His gaze remains fixed on mine, vigilant as if willing any pain away through sheer determination.

"Feeling better?" The question hangs in the air, simple yet layered with unspoken meanings; his voice is both command and comfort.

I nod slightly. Strands of hair dance across my face like a veil over my flushed cheeks. His closeness radiates warmth beyond mere physical touch. It envelops me in a sanctuary woven not just from fabric. It’s from loyalty and the unspoken vow to protect and cherish that he utters to me with regularity.

"Thank you," I whisper softly. My words are nothing compared to the gratitude swelling in my chest.

Hades' fingers trace a path through the unruly tangle of my morning hair, gently sweeping it aside to reveal the contours of my face. It’s a tender gesture that belies the swagger and size of his physicality. His touch is the painter's brush on canvas, soft yet assured, coaxing the shadows of discomfort from my features with every stroke.

"How do ye fare, lass?" His voice is a low rumble, the timbre echoing the depth of his concern. In this private world we have forged together, his fortress-like demeanor melts into something raw and genuine.

This man—the one who commands empires with an iron fist—now wields nothing but love in his eyes as he beholds me.

"I’m really ready to have my body back," I whisper, my voice quivering like a leaf in the gentlest of breezes. Overwhelmed by the magnitude of his presence, I let my hand rest upon the expanse of his palm, feeling the callouses that narrate tales of power and peril. “No one told me that being pregnant would suck the calcium from my bones and make me hungry all the time. I’m just fortunate that I don’t carry twins, I guess.”

"Fortune has no claim here, Penny," Hades counters, his voice a velvet caress against the backdrop of our sanctuary. “I’ve watched ye during this pregnancy. Yer the toughest one of all the Lyon brothers.”

That makes me laugh and my hand automatically lands on my belly. If I’m not careful, I’ll wet myself. God forbid I should ever sneeze.

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