Page 88 of Seduced

“What happened to the little poppy seed I rescued from the Thames?” He was still smiling, his lips stretched and pink, dried blood on his chin. His eyes looked bluer than the sky, light shining in them. “What happened to that obedient girl who did not dare raise her voice to argue with me, much less do anything else?”

“You,” Poppy replied and it barely took any courage at all to say it. It was the truth. And nothing was so frightening, after all, about stating the truth. “You happened to her. You taught her how to fight. Now teach yourself.”

His eyes drifted shut, and his head fell back, chin jutting out at a sharp angle, as his arm came around her shoulders in a vise grip, crushing her against his chest.

Something like a sob rose in his chest.

“Do with me as you like,” he breathed in an almost inaudible voice. “Have mercy.”

Then his mouth came down on hers again, this time more softly, teasing her, begging her lips to open more and let him in. Slowly her hands came up to the nape of his neck and she tangled her fingers through his long hair. He inhaled sharply against her lips, but it was not a painful breath. She might even go as far as to say it was one of pleasure.

“Persephone.” Her name was a moan on his lips, a prayer. “God help me, I should stop.”

“Don’t you dare.”

He chuckled against her lips, then lowered his face to better fit his lips on hers.

“You called me beautiful once,” he said in a moment, panting against her mouth. “Did you really, or did I imagine it?”

“I did. You are.”

He looked down at her, his face an open book. His eyes, God, his eyes. They were open for once, really open, letting her see everything in them.

“My soul is black,” he said.

“It is not,” Poppy replied quickly. “You are just overly dramatic, that’s all.”

He laughed and looked down, as if he were embarrassed.

“I also seem to remember you saying you didn’t care enough to hate me. What about not caring enough to hate me now? Did you care today, Wyatt? Did you care enough to stop me? Did you care enough to be sobloodystupid?”

“I did,” Poppy replied. “And I may be stupid, but I was not the one being beaten to a pulp by the men in my own employ.”

His eyes darkened. “See that you don’t start caring.” His voice was low and seductive, like the most decadent bite of cake. His lips were brushing hers as he spoke, teasing them open. Ready for more.

“Oh, I already have,” she replied absent-mindedly, her brain otherwise occupied. Her knees were in the process of being turned into water, and she did not know how she would manage to stay upright. She was melting.

“What?” The sudden harshness in Hades’ voice startled her. “No. No. Tell me you’re not serious, Wyatt.”

He stepped slightly away and cold rushed in between their bodies. She ached with his absence.

She lifted her lips to his, but she was met with a cold, impenetrable wall. The warm, laughing man she had been holding and kissing a moment ago was completely gone, and in his place was the prince of the Underworld, cold and dark. Closed up and forbidding. Pushing her away.

“This cannot happen,” he murmured to himself, viciously biting his lip.

“What are you—? Hades, look at me.”

But he refused to, his eyes firmly on the ground. They had turned gray again. Dark, colorless. What had happened?

What did I do?

“Look, I—” He put her away from him, his hands pushing her to the side, his expression cold as ice. “This was a mistake, Wyatt, forgive me. Or don’t; I don’t much care. You did know I was Hades all along, didn’t you? What else did you expect from me? If you expect me to care, then you are more deluded than I thought. Now, look here, I have to go, there is business awaiting. Besides, I have to take care of thismess.” He looked down at his bloody, half-buttoned shirt. He fumbled for words. “I’ll…Yes, I’ll go now.”

And once more, he couldn’t make his escape quickly enough. He left her there, in his boxing rooms, shaking with emotion and rejection. With need.

Look at that, Poppy thought. Maybe I do have a talent, after all. Driving him away.

She turned around, unable to watch his retreating back, unable to bear the sight of his long legs taking him away from the room

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