Page 42 of Hades and Persephone: Threads of Fate

I take in the woman in my arms once again. Her delicate, fine-boned features and the ancient strength that flashes deep within the depths of her youthfully innocent eyes.

I’ve always known Persephone was my mate. But my soul mate? A thing intended for humans alone, cursed upon them by their twisted God? Not possible.

Or is it?

No. It can’t be. The Fates are cunning, but to do something so extreme.To bind Gods—they wouldn’t. The consequences would be—they would be—catastrophic.

Even still, I am helpless to do anything but take her mouth prisoner in a kiss that tastes of souls fused by ancient magic.

By something far greater than us.

Something far older, even, than the Primordial Gods of Origin.

Chapter

Nineteen

Persephone

I haven’t beenable to stop thinking of that night in the hot tub with Hades. The night of so many changes. So many firsts.

I swear, I felt something in my chest—something which has always been achingly empty—snap into place. I could have sworn I saw something crackle between us. An energy of the faintest blue, like the halo of light around a bright moon in the darkest sky. It had danced there between us for seconds before drifting away. But I swear, I’d been able to feel it, like silky water flowing between my fingers.

I’d thought it was yet more proof tothe madness I suffer. But Hades felt it, too. The nip of something snapping to place, that is.

I’m not sure he could see the energy between us—could feel the crackle of it.

But I felt it.I felt it, and there’s no forgetting it now.

Days later, I can feel the static of the energy that swirled between us. It crackles at my fingertips as I brush away dust from the pillars into the tunnel we’ve unearthed. I feel that crackle even now, as a team of highly skilled individuals excavate the tunnel while carefully trying to preserve the deep stretch of ancient stairs.

In some places, the earth that filled this tunnel has packed to the steps to remain forever a part of it, coating the stone as though caressed by the wrinkled hands of Mother Nature herself.

It’s beautiful and somehow sad, the wreckage of time.

I feel so incredibly, dangerously close to this place of ruin. Like it’s somehow imbedded in the fabric that crafts my very soul. With every step we unearth, a new flash of something that mimics memory drifts into my mind, rooting there. It threatens growth I’m not sure I can handle, as each new piece fits into the puzzle of the last, painting a bigger, clearer picture of a past that can’t possibly be real. Can’t possibly be my own.

And yet…

Addison drops down beside me, spreading his legs and dropping his elbows onto his knees. He stares outover clasped fists into a distance of sand, and blue, and ruins. From the corner of my eye, I watch as his jaw works.

I pretend I don’t notice.

“What’s going on with you and Hades?”

Surprised, I glance at him.

“We’re—um—” I don’t know why talking about Hades is so hard for me with Addison. Why it feels so awkward. Why I feel like I’m doing something wrong.

“Annie?”

Nervously, I tuck my hair behind my ear. “We’re just—we’re…”

“He burned me that night, you know?”

My eyes slide to Addison’s. There’s grave seriousness in his eyes. “What?”

“At the club, when we were dancing. When he grabbed my shirt, lit it on fire—I had his knuckles burned into my chest.” His fingers move to the buttons of his shirt, pulling it open. “I don’t even know how he did it.” Addison scoffs, shakes his head. “It’s healing, but you can still see it.”

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