Page 72 of Queen of the Underworld

“I always feel better when I smile,” she murmured, her voice black magic that had the urge to knock her hands from his face falling away.

The sombre edge to her eyes said it didn’t make her feel better. That was just the lie she told herself to cover her sorrow and pain.

Hades couldn’t stand it.

He swept her into his arms, tucking her close to his chest and ripping a surprised gasp from her, and held her.

He bent his head to press his cheek to hers, and fiercely whispered, “Tell me who hurt you.”

She tensed and he knew she wouldn’t tell him.

Hades growled. “How am I to mend you and defeat your darkness when you will not tell me of it?”

“My darkness?” she murmured and he feared he had said too much.

Knew he had when she pulled back, pressing her hands to his chest and resisting him when he tried to tug her back to him.

Her emerald eyes searched his, searing and sharp, but soft too as her eyebrows furrowed.

“How am I meant to defeat your darkness if you will not speak of it?” Her voice was soft, beseeching, and by the gods, he wanted to talk to her about it, but he couldn’t. Not now. Not yet. Maybe not ever. He wasn’t sure he would ever be ready to speak of it to someone. She sighed and shook her head slightly, barely moving it. There was no trace of pity in her expression or her voice as she said, “I have seen how you change, Hades. I have seen the war within you and how hard you fight it, and I want to know of your darkness. Will you tell me about it?”

Perceptive little female. No other had noticed how the darkness affected him. All who had seen it had believed it to merely be his rage. But not Persephone. She had seen right through him.

His heart whispered at him to tell her. Now was the perfect opportunity.

But what if he told her and it ruined whatever was happening between them?

Fear of that happening had him growling, “That is not something I am willing to speak about.”

And he instantly regretted it when she pulled free of his hold and moved away from him, her shoulders lowering as the distance between them grew.

Her voice was small as she said, “If that is the case, then I am not willing to speak of my darkness.”

He walked behind her for a spell, battling with himself again. Only this time it was a war between fulfilling her wish and speaking to her about the darkness, and keeping silent on the subject.

Would she understand if he talked to her about it?

Would she agree to remain with him if he told her how just her presence soothed it and gave him better control over it?

When the silence stretching between them became too oppressive, he thought about what they had been discussing before she had tried to make him smile, attempting to return to how they had been then. He wanted her to speak to him again. He wanted to see her smiles. He wanted her to tease him some more.

He just wanted to know he hadn’t messed things up again.

They had been speaking about his brothers. Did she have siblings? He wanted to know.

“What of your family?” he said.

Her shoulders tensed and her fingers stiffened against the leaf she toyed with, and then she looked in the direction of the tower. “You seem close to that three-headed hound.”

She was evading his question. His dark eyebrows knitted and he studied her, trying to divine the reason why. Didn’t she like her family?

Were they the source of her darkness? The ones who had hurt her mentally and emotionally?

Rather than pressing her for answers to assuage his need to know why she didn’t want to talk about them, he focused on drawing her closer to him and making her more comfortable around him again. Pushing her would only drive her away from him. In time, he would find a way to convince her to speak to him about her darkness.

And he would find the courage to speak to her of his.

“Cerberus.” He almost smiled as he thought of his pet and realised she must have seen him with the beast more than he had known.

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