Page 22 of Queen of the Underworld

His irises were fully black now, his pupils shining like fire, and his ears…

They were pointed.

The transformation had happened swiftly. It had been instant and startling, and now she felt as if she was looking at a completely different person. The lines that framed his mouth deepened, his grin more like a grimace as he glared down at her, and every inch of him was tense. His hand trembled against her throat, his visage darkening as the seconds ticked past.

There was a war in his eyes.

An unmistakable battle.

Against what?

Persephone struggled to breathe and fought to keep as still as possible, unsure what he would do if she moved. Fear trickled through her as she swallowed and her Adam’s apple rubbed the leather palm of his gauntlet. She awaited her fate as she watched that war playing out in his eyes, aware her future depended upon the outcome of the battle that had him locked up tight, frozen as he towered over her, breathing hard.

She stared at his dark visage, easily able to believe all the tales told of him in Olympus when he was like this. None of those stories had mentioned the intense battle she could read in his eyes though, and even sense in him as his hand twitched against her throat and his jaw flexed, clamping hard in response.

She wanted to know what was happening inside him, some crazy part of her wishing she could see into his mind to watch the war playing out. What was he fighting? This darker version of himself?

Was the Hades who had gazed at her softly through blue eyes, the one that didn’t fit the image Olympus painted of him, waging war against this Hades who held her throat in a hard grip and was infinitely darker and more savage?

The barest flicker of blue danced like stars amidst the onyx of his irises.

His gaze slowly lowered to her lips.

A war erupted inside her too as they landed on her mouth, a battle between the side of her that wanted him to kiss her again—which made her feel wicked—and the side that screamed at her to push him away. Her breaths came faster, speeding in time with his as the air thickened and the silence stretched between them.

She couldn’t take it anymore.

“Hades,” she whispered.

Unsure whether it was a plea to let her go or an entreaty born of this dangerous desire to know his kiss again.

It shattered whatever spell he was under, reinforcing that feeling she’d had in the forest—she had power over him. She swore regret flickered in his eyes as he shoved away from her on a low, vicious growl, muttering things in a language she didn’t know as he stalked to the stairs.

Persephone sagged into the wall, her breath leaking from her as she stared at his retreating back.

The sensation of power that swirled through her, stronger than it had been in the woods when she had spoken his name, bolstered her courage and something within her pressed her to take advantage of it. She trembled as she pushed away from the wall and uttered a demand.

“Let me go, Hades.”

He stopped at the top of the steps and looked back at her, his eyes pure darkness as shadows danced across his shoulders and down his arms, and growled, “Never.”

With that, he stormed down the stairs, disappearing from view and moving beyond the reach of her senses, the brush of his power against hers fading.

The moment she realised she was alone, cold engulfed her and her strength flooded from her. Her legs gave out and she sank to her knees on the stone floor, gripping it with trembling fingers. She gave herself a moment, hating each second that she felt powerless and weak, afraid, letting it all flow over her and through her, purging it, and then she steeled her nerves and set her jaw and curled her fingers into fists.

Resolve swept through her, pushing out all her fear.

If Hades wouldn’t take her home, she would find her own way there.

She wasn’t sure how she was going to do it, but she was going to escape.

Before she did something both reckless and dangerous.

Like kissing him again.

Chapter 6

Hades stalked away from Tartarus, leaving the black stone columns of the entrance to the prison behind him. He flicked the blood from the talons of his gauntlets, an action so ingrained in him he barely noticed what he was doing as he focused his gaze on the distance.

---