Page 28 of Queen of the Underworld

Hades’s dark eyebrows knitted hard, his anger swift to rise. “I will see to it.”

It wasn’t like the occupants of the Fields to be restless. The place was a paradise, created for the kindest souls, for the heroes of this world. He had never had any trouble there before. It unsettled him and filled him with an urge to look at the tower, one he denied.

He kept his focus fixed on his commander instead.

“I will take the legion there.” The male remained looking at Hades’s boots, a tremble in his voice that betrayed his fear and had Hades glancing at his men.

Their emotions ran the same course as their commander’s. They all feared him.

And Hades was fine with that.

He had taken great pains to ensure everyone in his realm feared him. Those who had dared to disobey him had ended up in Tartarus, tortured for all to hear, or their blood had nourished his black lands. Fear made for obedient subjects.

“Take the men from the barracks with you. I want this unrest subdued immediately. If it is not settled by the time I reach the Elysian Fields, it will be your head—” Hades cut off as a shiver tumbled down his spine and frowned at the curious feeling.

He studied it, his expression causing the commander to squirm, as if he was about to be devoured by Hades’s shadows. Hades ignored him, seeking the source of the unsettling feeling, and his eyebrows pinched harder as he realised where it was coming from.

His head snapped up, his gaze locking on the scarlet-haired beauty standing on the balcony of the tower, her green eyes fixed on him.

Just the feel of her eyes on him was enough to stir the darkness, flooding him with an urge to lash out at his men, because if she was looking at him, then she was looking at them too. The thought of her looking at another male had his shadows lancing the ground, snapping dangerously close to the commander.

“Go,” Hades barked.

Before his shadows devoured them all.

The commander was quick to push to his feet and signal his men, and as one they disappeared.

Hades continued to stare up at the goddess, darkness so thick it choked the light from him pouring through his veins as the blackest reaches of his soul murmured that she had been admiring the other males. No doubt comparing him to them.

He snarled and crushed that voice as he stalked towards the dark wooden door at the bottom of the tower.

She would want no other male.

He unlocked the tower door and pushed it open, stepping into the circular room at the base. His senses stretched upwards, attempting to pinpoint the goddess as he ran over his strategy and fought the darkness, trying to claw himself out of the mire so his plan would succeed.

He needed to appear more pleasing.

Gentler.

That ran on repeat in his mind as he mounted the spiral staircase, the clunk and scrape of his metal boots against the black stone drawing his awareness to his plate armour. He grimaced. It would be difficult to appear gentle given his current attire. Returning to his temple to change into a softer, less daunting outfit seemed the wisest course of action, but need overruled it and had him taking the steps two at a time.

Desperate to see her.

Hades tightly clutched the reins of his darkness, pulling back on it as he fought to keep it under control. The closer he came to seeing her again, the stronger and more defiant it grew, rousing dark needs within him and filling his mind with other thoughts—ones about possessing her.

By the time he had reached the top of the tower, he was near mad with a need to see her.

He stepped out onto the stone floor, sweeping around to face her, and came to an abrupt halt, some of the darkness abating as his gaze landed on her.

She stood at a distance, close to the balcony, and was facing him, her hands tucked behind her, one pressing against the curved wall.

Clearly ready for him.

No trace of fear touched the delicate planes of her exquisite face. Not a hint of it in her posture, other than the hand that had betrayed her to brace against the wall, as if she needed to steady herself. Her little fingertips dug into the black stone, clutching it as she stared at him, her luminous green eyes—no, not luminous. They were dull. And there were shadows beneath them.

And she was paler than when he had left her, her skin closer to white than cream.

Hades frowned at her, his blue gaze darting over her, and it struck him that the hand that clutched the wall wasn’t steadying her because she feared him. It was steadying her because she didn’t have the strength to stand unassisted.

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