Page 18 of His in the Dark

Again a smirk threatens but I resist. I hesitate.

If they know she is here, Zeusmightintervene. Considering the state of our last conversation and what I’ve done in the cloak of the night. I do vaguely wonder if he’s aware yet. And if not at this moment… when. And if he were to intervene, he will not do so alone. It’s not his way to approach without several other powers at his back. Zeus is known for playing his little games, and he keeps his people close.

He might gather a few more to his cause and come for Persephone.

As my thoughts race and I debate on what to allow her to know, she lets out a scoff that drips with frustration and disgust, her eyes burning into mine.

Persephone is smart enough to know that Zeus could come from her. It’s as if she’s reading my mind. Looking into the future workings of my plans.

I saw that anger in her, and that defiance. Now I see her quick mind and her cunning. Fucking beautiful, if not deadly.

Yet, she’s already broken.

She blinks slowly, then stares at the ceiling, her eyes sparkling with tears. I do not think they are tears of despair. Not yet. They are tears of rage.

I reach for her wrist.

She draws her hand to her chest and then flings it out as if to strike me.

I catch her wrist as if it is nothing—itisnothing—and hold it halfway between us, my eyes locked on hers and her tension radiating through me. The heat of her skin on mine is electric. The fire raging between us. Persephone’s breathing quickens. Her glare is like a torch, bringing fire into the shadows at my core.

Does she feel this too? The heat that dances between the tension. Her eyes boring into mine and mine to hers. She pulls away, and it’s then I realize just how little power she has.

Every heave of her breath rings in my ears.

I tighten my fingers around her wrists.

Persephone gasps, her lower lip dropping ever so slightly, fear reflecting in her eyes. This is only a prelude to my true strength, and that gasp is only a prelude to the sounds I’ll draw out from her.

“Your magic is weak,” I tell her, keeping my eyes firmly on hers. She could close her eyes in an attempt to shut me out. She could try to look away, but she doesn’t.

“It’s not weak,” she snaps, her voice cracking with defiance. “It’s as strong as yours. Your chains prove nothing.”

It’s not her words that strike me, but her bravery. I smirk at her, unflinching.

“Weak,” I repeat.

“I’m not.” Her voice drops. “I’mnot. You don’t know what I can do. You don’t know me.”

A huff of a laugh leaves me. I know everything about her. I’ve watched her for years now. Pined for her, obsessed with her.

“Show me your power,” I command as I release her and take a step back, “Free yourself.”

Her eyes narrow. After a beat, she turns her face away. A pain I haven’t felt before is sharp in my chest.

Of course she could not free herself. If she had that power, she would have done so already.

I reach forward with my other hand on her chin, I turn her face back to mine.

“Your power is weak,” I coax. “But I will help you.”

My whispered promise flashes in her eyes. I can practically see her thoughts change before me.

“Who are you?” she asks.

“Hades, Lord of the Underworld and your taker.”

Her breath seems to leave her. “I will aid you and your powers,” I promise her, allowing my admission to sink in.

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