Page 38 of Queen of the Underworld

And nodded.

What else could she get from him?

He seemed to be in a compliant mood.

Persephone decided to do a little prodding and test the limits of what he would do for her to discover how far she could go before he denied her and grew snappish. How badly did Hades want his queen?

Her.

It was time to find out.

Chapter 10

“If I am to remain here until you come to your senses or someone comes for me, then I want a bath brought to me each day, and I want fresh covers for my bed—silk covers—and I want these wards gone. I want to be able to come and go.” Persephone feared that last order might be a step too far.

Sure enough, Hades’s expression darkened and he flashed fangs, but it wasn’t her demand to be given some freedom that had apparently angered him.

“Who will come for you?” he boomed at her. “Your mother? Another male? I will know.”

A sensible female might have backed down and even apologised in the face of his fury, but it stoked something inside her, setting fire to her courage and bringing it to the fore, together with a wicked need to tease and challenge him.

She might be his captive, but she wasn’t going to be some spineless, compliant prisoner. She was a goddess, and if he hadn’t stolen her powers, she could easily have escaped him.

She couldn’t do that, but she could push him a little to see what he might reveal—to see if he truly did desire her and not just any female as his queen. He had called her beautiful, but she struggled to believe his compliment had been anything other than shallow words devised to seduce her into doing his bidding and giving up her fight. During her captivity, she had mulled over all the possible reasons he could have for taking her captive, and had settled on the most logical one.

He had taken her because she was an Olympian and he had stumbled across her, finding her alone and vulnerable, easy to capture. This was no doubt a ploy to anger his brother, Zeus. She knew they didn’t like each other. She was a pawn in a game devised to strike out at Olympus by taking something that belonged to it. That was all.

Maybe if she revealed the truth—that he didn’t want her because he thought her beautiful and desired her—she would finally get something through her own thick skull.

No one could want someone as powerless and worthless as her.

Persephone flinched at that mental barb, one that dug a hook into her and refused to be shaken, even as she tilted her chin up and pushed ahead with her plan. “I am betrothed.”

Shadows suddenly swept around her and his eyes went pitch black, the fire that blazed in his pupils and his sudden transformation stealing her breath together with the way the floor trembled. She staggered for balance as it bucked and shook, the entire realm quaking, and reached for the wall to steady herself. Her heart raced as a great cracking sound echoed around the mountains and her head swung towards the balcony.

She rushed towards it, adrenaline making her blood thunder and pulse spike, needing to see what was happening and fearing it was the tower that had split in two and was about to drop from beneath her feet. She stopped short of the balcony, her gaze darting to the flimsy stone platform that was all that stood between her and a terrifying fall.

That same gaze leaped to the walls as the shaking continued and she braced her hands against both sides of the doorframe and squeezed her eyes shut, silently willing it to stop and sure the entire tower would crumble under the onslaught.

She had never felt such a powerful quake before and was shocked to discover they happened here, in a realm ruled by a god.

Hades’s hands closed over her shoulders, his bare skin warming hers, and she had the feeling he was holding her back and stopping her from stepping onto the perilous balcony.

He lowered his head and she tensed as his breath fanned across her neck, making her nape tingle.

He murmured, “It is best not to provoke me.”

Shock swept through her as he skimmed his hands up her bare arms and over her shoulders, and ran his thumbs up her nape, teasing it and making her shiver. The tremors subsided as he gently caressed her, his hands draped around her throat and gaze searing her, sparking a thought that made her turn towards him.

It was him.

The earthquake hadn’t been a natural occurrence—it had been a response to his shift in mood.

The realm had responded to his rage.

His palms glided down from her throat to her shoulders, the warmth of his touch and the sparks that skittered through her almost distracting her.

To test her theory, she said, “I only state the truth. My mother intends to marry me off.”

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