Page 107 of Queen of the Underworld

She wanted to see his temple.

What his love wanted, his love got.

Hades shook his head and raised his hand. He mirrored her, sweeping his knuckles across her fair cheek, and then threaded his fingers through her fall of crimson hair, savouring how soft the silken threads were against it.

And the wicked urge to fist and hold her in place for a bruising kiss.

He had tightened his hand in her hair and had pulled her against him before he was aware of what he had done, but she didn’t gasp or protest. No. His little queen arched against him, pressing her breasts to his chest, and licked her lips as her gaze fell to his mouth.

Hades dropped his head and claimed her lips in a fierce kiss, bending her to his will as he gripped her hair. She moaned, the wanton sound fanning the flames of his passion, until he was on the verge of teleporting her back to their chambers so he could take her again.

He set her away from him instead when he sensed two females passing them. He scowled at the servants where they crossed the open stretch of land beside the temple, and they ducked their heads and hurried in the other direction. Satisfied that he was alone with his love again, he turned back to pull her into his arms for another kiss.

And growled when he found her halfway along the temple, her gaze dancing over the carvings on the walls of it.

Hades strode towards her, his long legs making fast work of closing the distance between them, allowing him to reach her before she dared to peek into the open doorway in the side of the temple. Rather than looking inside, she turned her steady emerald gaze on him.

“Remain close,” he growled as he battled a sudden surge of darkness.

Just the thought of her being near so many males ravaged his defences and had him slipping, had the darkness rising to tighten its grip on him. It whispered through his mind, stroking black talons over it as it murmured of other males and keeping her close, and fed his fears, preying on them.

Hades fought it as he placed his hand against her lower back and kept his gaze on her, attempting to shut out the other people. Awareness trickled like ice down his spine beneath his armour. If he let it take him, the darkness would have him painting the walls with the blood of every pilgrim and guard in the temple.

Persephone would be horrified.

She would reject him.

Turn her back on him.

Her words rang in his mind—her disdain for bloodshed and killing—pushing him firmly to the edge as they entered the temple side by side. He tried to focus on quelling the darkness and keeping it at bay, using Persephone’s presence to give him strength together with how she would react if the darkness took control. He glanced at those in the temple as she moved deeper into it, heading for the colossal black stone statue of him in full regalia at one end of it.

Male and female pilgrims dressed in little more than rags shuffled in a line towards that statue, looking weary and worn, as if they barely had the strength to remain standing. In their hands, they clutched dusty bottles and food wrapped in cloth—meagre offerings meant to appease him and show their gratitude.

The sight of them was like a punch in his chest.

The people of his realm should not look so tired and thin.

Guilt slammed into him when one female with straggly grey hair cast a bleak, but longing look at the chunk of bread she clasped to her chest.

Hades growled and stepped forwards, reaching for Persephone’s arm to pull her out of the temple before she could notice how poorly he had been treating his citizens. She would despise him if she saw how filthy and hungry they were. How desperate. How had he not noticed it before?

He flicked a glance at Persephone, sure it was her doing. She had opened his eyes. She had made him look at his realm with clear ones and see his faults, and his wrongdoings. His failings.

Persephone frowned at his hand as he came close to snagging her wrist with it and then turned her bewitching gaze on the pilgrims. Her dazzling emerald eyes shifted from the line of people to him, no trace of anger in them, and then drifted around the room. She was looking for something.

He knew what she sought.

Rather than taking hold of her, Hades strode to the statue and grabbed a golden bowl of fruit someone had placed between his feet. It had probably been an offering made by one from the breeds born in his realm, ones who called it home in a different way to the souls sent to him. Those breeds had wealth and large estates where several families lived, and could come and go between the Underworld and the mortal one, and even Olympus.

He summoned a guard with a wave of his hand. The male nearest him dipped his head, causing the crest on his black helmet to sway, and approached him.

Hades held the large bowl filled with grapes, oranges and pomegranates out to the male. “See to it this is distributed among the needy and gather the names of their villages.”

So he could look into them and ensure the souls there were nourished and could take better care of themselves.

The male worked his way down the line, and each soul he served looked beyond him to Hades and bowed their head as they accepted the offering of food. All except the elderly female. When the guard offered her fruit, she took an orange, and as the male moved on, she broke away from the line and approached Hades.

Two guards stepped into her path, crossing their spears to stop her.

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