Page 20 of Queen of the Underworld

Had that kiss affected him as strongly as it had affected her?

It had been searing, startling, and it was now branded on her mind and her lips, his taste tattooed there forever. She wasn’t sure she would ever forget it.

His dark eyebrows relaxed slightly, his features softening a little.

“Hades,” she whispered, hoping that she wasn’t imagining that lightening of his emotions. His eyes were shifting again, the black receding and the fire in his pupils guttering out. Could she reach him if she was gentle with her approach and convince him to let her go? It was worth a shot. She swallowed to wet her throat. “Take me back to Olympus. I want to go home.”

His expression darkened in a heartbeat and shadows erupted from beneath his booted feet, sharp lances that stabbed at anything within their reach.

When one lunged for her, she staggered backwards and summoned vines to form a wall between her and the shadow. Only nothing happened. Her spine struck the wall as a gasp burst from her lips.

The shadow halted only inches from her waist.

Her gaze leaped to meet his.

Something flared in his eyes and then the shadow snapped around her wrist and she shrieked as it yanked her forwards, towards him. She flew into his arms, striking his hard metal breastplate with enough force that it knocked the breath from her lungs.

Persephone fought the shadow, her hand passing through it as she attempted to break free. Yet it could hold her as firmly as his hand did as it gripped her wrist, replacing his shadows, and he closed his other hand around her upper arm. She wriggled in his hold, refusing to be cowed by him and to let him have his way. When she tried to use her powers and nothing happened again, she denied the cold and the fear, refusing to surrender to it, and stomped on his foot instead.

He merely arched an eyebrow at that.

She did it again, and again, hammering the heel of her bare foot into his metal boot and getting nothing but a bruise to show for it. When she was sore and a little out of breath, and her situation hadn’t changed one bit, she glared up at him.

And realised how close he was to her.

She stilled as she stared into his eyes, the foot difference in their height making her feel small. Weak. His masculine scent invaded her senses, as dark and spicy as his kiss had been, and seemed to work a kind of black magic on her, easing the tension from her muscles and sweeping the thoughts from her mind, and the fear with it, until she was simply standing there, gazing up at him.

What kind of spell had this dark god cast upon her to make her react to him this way?

She should be afraid of him. She was deeply aware of that. But as she lost herself in his eyes that were changing once again, the crimson giving way to that bewitching blue, she felt no fear.

And then he kissed her again.

It happened so quickly she didn’t have time to evade him—or maybe she hadn’t wanted to.

He bent his head and then his lips were on hers, the hard brush of them awakening something powerful and unsettling inside her that had her hands inching up to grip his arms and hold him in place.

Shock swept through her, a tidal wave that doused the desire that had flooded her with new, dangerous feelings, and fear followed it—fear of what he might do if she didn’t stop him—fear that she might like it.

That she mightwantit.

When all he wanted was to own her just as many other gods did, to lay claim to her as if she was there to be taken, as if she wasn’t an autonomous being with her own thoughts, feelings and desires.

Anger that he was like all the other males in her world—no, worse than the others since he had taken her captive and now called her his queen, as if she had no say in the matter—provoked a reaction she knew she would regret the instant her knee struck him between his thighs.

He grunted and his fangs grazed her lower lip, nicking it and flooding her mouth with the taste of her own blood as he jerked in response to the hard blow.

Persephone shoved him in the chest, pushing him off her and toppling him. He landed on the bed with a hard thump and clatter of armour, and she made a break for it.

Heading at speed for the steps that led downwards.

She gasped as Hades appeared before her, black tendrils of smoke caressing his shoulders and hands, and tangling in the sharp spikes of his crown. His eyes flared crimson again as she skidded to a halt and backpedalled, placing some distance between them so he couldn’t seize hold of her again.

Only he remained where he was, a glowering wall of black that stood between her and her freedom.

“Do not attempt to leave this tower,” he growled, his voice a dark snarl that would have conveyed his anger had his eyes not already told her of it. They were fierce crimson again, verging on black, and his fangs flashed between his lips as he spoke, continuing before she could even think to petition him to take her home or call him on the fact he was holding her captive, had somehow suppressed her powers, and the reason he didn’t want her to leave was because he was intent on having her as his queen. He snarled, “There are beasts in this world that would make a meal of a delicate little female like you… or do far worse.”

She swallowed hard as her pulse kicked up a notch, her senses sharpening as she strained to hear these beasts he spoke of and feared they were circling the tower, waiting for her to leave it so they could devour her.

---