Page 49 of Queen of the Underworld

He sat up more on the bed, leaning towards her slightly, unsure what to do. Which was a strange predicament to be in. He always knew what to do.

But not this time.

He wanted Persephone to look at him, to grace him with her company, and he wasn’t sure how to make that happen. He looked at the dress she had discarded, deeply aware now that it had been another mistake. His queen was light and life. She was brightness and colour. She was right. A black dress wasn’t suitable for her.

“I should have given you a green dress as you requested,” he murmured, unaware he had said it aloud until she turned a surprised look on him.

Her eyes slowly narrowed on him as she canted her head. “You are awfully talkative tonight.”

Her gaze was both inquisitive and suspicious, as if she believed he was up to something, which he was, but that wasn’t the reason he was feeling rather congenial. An idea struck him like a thunderbolt—a way of making her relax.

And it might help him too.

Hades held his left hand out and focused, concealing the effort it took to summon the violet hexagonal bottle he had left in his chambers.

When it appeared in his hand, she frowned again.

“Is that ambrosia?” She sounded shocked, and even more suspicious now.

Hades made himself comfortable on her pillows, stacking them up behind his back and fighting the effect her scent had on his body, how it ravaged his control and had him aching to touch her again, to kiss her. He pulled the stopper out of the bottle and offered it to her.

“Take a sip and find out,” he husked.

Chapter 13

Persephone’s cheeks pinkened for a heartbeat before she covered her blush by pulling a face and waving him away as she turned to face the balcony again.

No matter. Hades wouldn’t be discouraged. She could snap and snarl at him all she wanted tonight, but he was cataloguing her cues, observing her closely enough to spot the tells that gave her feelings away. She had been tempted to taste the ambrosia.

And pleased he was being talkative rather than going straight for baring his fangs and ordering her around.

She had the ambrosia to thank for that.

He sipped from the bottle, savouring the sweet burn of the liquor that kept the edge off his mood and stopped the darkness in its tracks, freeing him to begentlewith her. He was coming to hate that word. He held back a sigh. Needs must though. Zeus had tricked him into abducting her and now Hades needed to repair the damage his brother had done, and he couldn’t do that without tempering his darker side. He also couldn’t do it without setting aside the king in him and embracing the man.

He had gleaned a few things from their time together.

Persephone didn’t want a king who would rule her. She wanted a male who would love her. Cherish her. Do anything for her. He needed to make her see that he could be that man. He wasn’t as incapable of feeling as people made him out to be, and he wasn’t a monster who thrived on bloodshed and death.

Hades stared at her.

Not anymore at least.

He had been attempting to change himself for the better, so he would please her, and she had already changed him. He hadn’t woken in a rage since he had taken her. He hadn’t lashed out at his citizens for no reason. In fact, looking back on the things he had done to those in his care filled him with immeasurable guilt.

Worse so than usual.

Because of her.

He stared at her, feeling to the very pit of his dark soul that she was responsible—that she was a light that was bathing that soul to chase the shadows out of it and free him from their grip.

“What are you thinking while you stare at me?” she whispered with a fearful glance over her shoulder.

Not fear of him. Again, she feared what he might say and already her barriers were coming up. Why did she do that?

“I am wondering who hurt my beautiful queen so much that she cannot bear to hear what others think of her.” He sat up, the ambrosia forgotten as he frowned at her and seethed with a need to find whoever had hurt her and cut them down, to make them pay for the invisible wounds they had inflicted upon her.

She was quick to look away again, her shoulders going rigid, making him feel he had pushed too far and ruined everything. He had wanted her to be more talkative and speak about herself, and now she would fall mute and distant again.

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