But this ethereal beauty had the darkness running wild in his veins, blackening his thoughts and turning them more violent than they had ever been, and whenever he gazed at her, he feared.

Bars of stone formed on the windows of the circular room, and wards followed them, powerful enchantments that would prevent her from escaping.

From leaving.

He stilled as he realised what he had done, dragging his gaze from her. He scanned the room, feeling the wards, ones more intricate than he had created in a very long time, all made while he hadn’t even been aware of what he had been doing.

All done to keep her with him.

Hades swallowed and carefully brushed his hand through her scarlet waves. He lifted his hand, watching the strands slip through his fingers like tiny rivers of blood, warmth curling through him to combat the cold that had seeped fast and deep into his heart at the thought of her leaving.

Never.

She would never leave him.

She was his now.

His queen.

He bared his fangs as darkness swept through him, surging to overwhelm the warmth and the light.

No one would take her from him.

His gaze dropped to her lips, hunger rolling through him to have him leaning closer to her. He breathed in her heady scent, warmth sweeping through him again in response to it, as if it was ambrosia. It drugged him.

His gaze grew hooded again, fixed on her mouth.

He knew her scent. Her voice. Her beauty. How she felt in his arms. Now he wanted to know her taste.

“Wake, my queen,” he murmured, lacing those words with his power so her little body obeyed his command.

Her eyelids fluttered, dark lashes dancing against her pale cheeks, and then they lifted, revealing luminous but sleepy emerald eyes that instantly locked with his, heating him right down to his bones and shattering his control.

Hades dipped his head.

And kissed her.

Chapter 5

Persephone’s first thought upon waking was how blue his eyes were, shining like azure fire.

And then his lips descended upon hers.

All her thoughts fled, the ability stripped from her as feeling swept in to steal awareness of anything but the hard press of his mouth against hers. A startling yearning blasted through her in response to his fierce kiss and her body arched towards his, her blood turning molten as she ached for more.

And then her mind caught up with what was happening.

A male waskissingher.

The god-king of the Underworld was kissing her.

Panic lit her veins and stole her breath in response to that thought, and she flattened her palms against his hard breastplate and shoved. When he only kept kissing her, his mouth moving masterfully against hers, transforming panic into pleasure and threatening to shatter her resolve, she reacted on instinct.

She shoved with all her strength, this time pushing him off her, and slapped him.

Hard.

The fierce crack of her palm meeting his sculpted cheek echoed around her.