Page 18 of Summer's Seduction

Psyche had to be in The Darklands, meaning I had to somehow cross either The Lethe or the river Styx to reach her. Supposedly, there was no way to pass either one without wings, but I had a feeling twisting in my gut that there was something powerful to the east. Something or someone beyond Elysium, beyond Hades’s attention, that I could use to see my sister free.

Green grassy fields shifted to wildflowers surrounded by great, towering trees. My lungs heaved, and my legs burned with the effort to keep the quick pace despite the spots of black clouding my vision. My body would heal without blood, I reminded myself, ignoring the gnawing ache starting in my gut. Being half-witch did have its benefits, but my healing magic was slow and would leave my dark half weakened despite my body being whole.

Leaving me vulnerable.

No, I’d need to feed. The next fury or night child I’d passed would have to do. It would be messy and painful with my magic being so depleted. There would be no soothing words or persuasion to ease them into comfort—to mask my own humiliation at having to stoop so low. I wouldn’t take from someone unwilling…which would leave the vilest of creatures at my disposal.

Being with a bloodwhore was vile—dirty in the worst type of way. They would let me feed from their body, and in turn, I would allow them to use mine. I was only ever a body for them to play with. Something to be used and discarded.

That was how life worked. Demeter had needed me to keep Persephone in line, and though it was not consciously done, Persephone needed me to temper the ugliness of this world for her. There had been friendship and something that almost resembled trust at one point, but how could she ever truly love me when I’d never shown her the truth of who I was?

That ugliness, the darkness of my splintered, fractured soul wasn’t something I’d ever reveal. Not fully. Because in the quietest recesses of my mind, in the tangled madness of my tortured being that I kept chained and locked away, I knew that even I couldn’t stand to see the vileness of the monster lurking within.

But Morpheus had. He’d glimpse pieces of me I hadn’t known were there, and the shame of that knowledge might just kill me.

The trees swayed gently in the breeze, the light of the stars bright and beautiful. Fireflies flickered among the flowers, and bats darted overhead, capturing their next meal. Even in The Underworld, life continued, oblivious to the agony raging in my soul.

Maybe that’s just how it was. Maybe some of us were destined to trudge through life broken, meant to be the ones to cast shadows as we moved. Others were allowed joy, but their happiness wouldn’t mean anything unless there was pain to contrast against.Iwas that pain. I was the one absorbing the darkness that reached for Persephone, keeping the flame of her candle still flickering and allowing it to grow into a mighty fire while my own dimmed.

The idea of me being a sacrificial lamb, fated for only life’s bitterness, was harsh… but liberating. The worst was expected. Nothing could hurt someone devoid of hope.

Maybe I could take a chance crossing The Lethe. The curse of the waters would only work if it was consumed. I wondered if creatures were lurking in the deep caverns of its waters. Could I wade across it? If I kept my lips pressed thin and eyes above water, would that be enough? And if it wasn’t, if the clear waters along the citrine-stoned river did happen to take hold, if my soul was wiped clean and everything I’d endured—everything the fates still had set before me—was undone… would it be so horrible?

Dampness coated my cheek, the kiss of the tear cold as I forced my fatiguing body further into the woods, forcing the morbid and far too enticing thoughts from my mind. I couldn’t rest. Not yet. Psyche needed me.

I clung to my little sister's image, her golden-silver curls and bright blue eyes looking up at me with love all those years ago. I would keep going for her, to see that smile upon my baby sister’s face again… and ignore how terrifying it was to think of the after. What would become of me when my reason for existing was no longer there?

Great gusts of wind at my back blew the hood of my cloak forward, obstructing my vision. My boot caught on a fallen branch, a curse falling from my lips as I tumbled forward. Wildflowers cushioned the blow as apples tumbled from my pack, rolling from the blasts of wind that followed, until it stopped entirely.

My brows furrowed as I pushed the hood from my eyes, glancing up at the night sky only to catch sight of a black streak. The ground trembled as his boots connected, his knees bending slightly as he absorbed the weight of such a drop. He still wore the black trench coat and low, vee-neck top he’d donnedat dinner, meaning he must have come straight from The Dark Palace. His long hair was half tied back, a cocky smirk tilting up one side of his lips to reveal fangs, but it was the look of triumph in his smoldering golden eyes that had me scowling.

“Morpheus,” I growled, rolling to my knees as I searched through the twisted fabric of my cloak for a dagger.

He grinned, staring down at me as I spotted the blade next to his boot. “Looking for this, little monster?

MORPHEUS

Gods below, she looked so fucking good staring up at me from her knees. The flash of murder in her eyes was a bonus. She didn’t see the pretentious prince that everyone else did. No, Larkspur knew I was monstrous. She knew I was capable of horrible things. And she hated me.

I toed the silver dagger with the edge of my boot, watching as her entire body tensed. Something twisted in my chest, knowing that the only thing she wanted was to sink this blade hilt deep in my chest. And fuck if every fiber in my being didn’t crave her. I was desperate to see more than just the stolen glimpses that her blood had offered, but it’d been so long since I’d felt anything other than shame. Sometimes, I wondered if I’d even know how to react to being happy.

If some miracle occurred and the fates decided to weave my life thread with another’s, would I know? Would I be able to stop myself from fucking it up? The shadows of my mind laughed, already knowing the answer: I wouldn’t know who I was without my misery. We were one and the same… the pain and I.

Smirking through the familiar despair, I kicked the blade toward her. Larkspur stilled, her rich green eyes going wide as the hilt landed just before her fingers.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? To watch me bleed?”

Larkspur narrowed her eyes a moment before snatching the blade from the grass and raising it to my throat. The edge pressed against the soft flesh of my neck, the faint metallic scent coating the air as the shallowest cut drew blood.

“I want to see you tremble beneath me,” my little monster seethed with venom dripping from each word. “I want to watch as I strip every ounce of control from you, leaving you nothing but a weak, pitiful shell.”

My breathing hitched as pain bled into her words—pain andshame. Her nostrils flared at the slight movement, her grip on the dagger tightening as if I’d think of fighting back.

“Do it,” I whispered, tilting my chin up so the blade sliced deeper. Warm blood trickled down my neck, the smell of it causing my little monster’s heart to race. Her gaze dropped to the trail of red, hunger flashing in her eyes. “You can lap up the mess after your blade severs my life thread. A reclaiming and revenge with one flick of your wrist.”

Larkspur recoiled as if I’d struck her, baring her teeth as she snarled, “I’d rather die than drink from you. I’d rather carve out my heart than have any piece of you touch me.”

A weight dropped into the pit of my stomach at her words. Not because of the truth ringing through them but because of the disgust shrouded within.

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