Page 95 of Queen of the Underworld

All shred of emotion left his eyes as they grew sharp, and dark, and cold, and it was like looking at another person.

How did it feel to him?

That battle she had witnessed more than once in his eyes ignited again as his lips pulled taut and flattened into almost a grimace, and his fingers flexed and curled into tight fists. His gaze remained locked on the blacksmith as his fists trembled at his sides and his shadows remained pointed at the male. She had never seen him so dark. The male before her was the one Olympus whispered about. With his pointed ears, sharp fangs that flashed between his lips as he sneered at the blacksmith, and unearthly eyes.

The monster.

But Persephone could see beyond that monster to the man. A man who was fighting to hold himself back, as if he wasn’t quite master of his own body. As if this darkness he emanated was an affliction. Something crushing. Something controlling. Something that had to be hard for him to deal with.

Hard on him.

But he didn’t have to bear it alone.

Persephone lifted her hand to place it on his chest and bring him back to her, hoping her touch would give him strength and help him shatter the hold this darkness had on him.

Only she touched nothing but black smoke.

Hades was gone.

She spun on her heel, her heart lodging in her throat as she whirled to face the blacksmith.

The male staggered backwards as Hades appeared right in front of him and lunged with his right hand, attempting to snare the male in his talons. On a rumbling growl, Hades swiped at the blacksmith again and the male twisted away from him and slammed into a bench that stood against the wall of the building he had exited. The man fell, his arm scattering metal tools across the floor. The other villagers gasped and ran, the sounds of doors slamming filling the tense silence and jarring Persephone, shaking her out of her stupor.

Hades’s shadows took aim at the male as he tried to get to his feet to escape.

And rushed towards him.

They would kill him.

Persephone leaped from the chariot and ran around Hades, placing herself between him and the blacksmith, and shoved her palms against Hades’s chest.

“Hades,” she bit out, half angry, half afraid, but determined to stop him.

His shadows halted and his gaze dropped to her. Fire shone in his pupils, his black irises an abyss around them, and he bared his fangs at her and then at the male he intended to cut down.

Because that male had looked at her.

“Hades,” she whispered again, and meant to tell him not to harm the male, only his name leaving her lips seemed to work black magic on him again and his gaze darted to her.

And remained locked on her this time.

She felt his shadows wrap around her again. Soft now. A gentle embrace that tugged her against Hades. He banded his arms around her too, bent his head and inhaled a shuddering breath. His grip on her was surprisingly gentle as he held her, each exhale stirring her hair and tickling her shoulder.

And then he abruptly broke away from her, gripped her arm and pulled her with him. When they reached the chariot, he caught her by her waist and lifted her onto it, and stepped up behind her. His left arm banded around her waist, holding her pinned to his side.

Together with his shadows.

They were as possessive as Hades as they wrapped around her.

Hades cracked the reins and the horses whinnied and broke into a gallop.

As they charged out of the village, she heard the blacksmith mutter a faint prayer of thanks to her, and didn’t miss what he called her in lieu of her name.

God-queen of the Underworld.

She stared into Hades’s eyes as they galloped onwards, lost in them and the heat that poured through her veins in response to his tight grip on her, the feel of his body against hers, and the thrill born of the fact he had been telling the truth to her that day.

He really would cut down any male who gazed upon her.

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