Page 27 of Hades and Persephone: Crown of Souls

Hades is impossibly still for an impossibly long moment. I am certain the thunderous drumming of my heart is the music that surrounds this moment. Even the massive horse tips his head, as though drawn closer by the fluttering lullaby of my pulse.

Finally, he speaks, “This is Alastor.” He lifts a hand to stroke the bulging muscle of the horse’s thick neck. “He’ll take us to the Grove of Persephone.”

My mouth feels dry as I stare up at the beast. And I meanup. Black leather and chunky silver metal assemble the riding gear that decorates the massive beast, adding an air of danger he really does not need. I can’t imagine that, face-to-face with Alastor, one would not be shaking in their boots. He looks like the beast that lives to charge headfirst into battle, proud and entirely undefeatable.

The first of the four horsemen,the thought whispers, unbidden into my mind.

“We’re riding him?” My voice cracks on the last word. “M—Maya said I was—um—close to a horse called Aethon—um—before.”

My voice drifts off as Hades’ eyes darken to a dangerous shade. Shadows erupt in the flames that never really seem to die anymore. “She spoke to you about before?”

“Um…” Nerves erupt inside me. I’ve never felt afraid of Hades—but when he looks at me like that, I kind of feel afraid of himforMaya. “Not really, no. I tried to ask her questions, and she shut most of them down.”

That muscle in Hades’ jaw pops. “You asked her questions?”

“I—well—” I shift nervously under both Hades’ and Alastor’s deep stares. “I feel comfortable with her.”

Hades steps closer to me. “And you don’t feel comfortable with me?”

I flinch. “Of course, I do.”

His dark eyes with those swirling shadows in the flame peer deep into mine. “You don’t ask me questions.”

“That’s not true.”

“What did you ask her?”

I lift my chin. “If she was my friend…before.”

Hades sighs, his eyes shuttering closed for a pulse. When they reopen, he taps Alastor’s back. “Climb on up.”

My heart jolts. I’m pretty sure they both hear it, because a smirk kicks the frown off Hades’ face and Alastor’s head knocks curiously to the side. I swallow hard to clear my throat before I say, “I’ve never ridden a horse.”

Alastor’s head kicks back at this, onyx eyes wide.He does understand me!

I’m still gaping at the horse when Hades murmurs, “Alastor would never let anything happen to you.”

The horse stands taller, gaininganotherinch.

The sight has my fear waning to be replaced by something else. Humor, possibly? Trust…

Hades catches me around the waist, lifting me before I’ve really had a moment to process. “Foot in the stirrup,” he instructs.

Gripping the knobby thing on the saddle, I throw my leg wide. The high slits that cut through the wispy dress make throwing my leg over Alastor’s back easy. In the next second, Hades is up on the horse behind me.

His capable hands take the reins, even though I am unconvinced they are a necessity. The leather rests loosely in his hands, his arms bracketing my body as he commands low, “To the Grove of Persephone, Alastor.”

The horse begins to move. The land spins around us as he does a circle to change directions, the thick muscles of the beastly horse rippling with every movement. My body rocks in the saddle, closer to Hades. When his hand comes to rest low and snug on my belly, I feel another surge of that aching need swelling inside me—even as I straighten my spine in an attempt to ignore it.

My suspicion that Hades can scent my need is affirmed when he inhales sharply, loosing a rough curse that has my body responding with an eruption of goosebumps.

“Can you—can you smell my arousal?” I’m relieved that I can’t see his face—and he can’t see mine right now, either. As humiliating as the question is, I have to ask it. I have to know.

“Yes.”

“Oh, my god…” When I try to shimmy away from him, to place just an inch of space between us, Hades tugs me firmly back into his chest. I’m closer to him now than I was before. So close that I can feel the hard bulge of his own arousal pressing into the soft crease of my butt.

The pressure sends a hot tingle slithering up my spine that I do my very best to ignore.

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