Page 28 of Hades and Persephone: Crown of Souls

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I disagree,” I reply rather perfunctorily.

He dips his head to murmur his dark words into my neck. “I could have you every second of every day, little goddess, and I would still want more.”

The knots of need inside my core tighten. Hot prickles of heat pop the goosebumps that assaulted every inch of my flesh only moments before, and I can’t help myself as I rock in the saddle.I need something…

“I don’t know why I feel like this.” The words come out like a gasp. A moan. A plea.

There is a moment of hesitation won over by curiosity as he asks, “What do you feel?”

“Raw with need.” I let my head drop into the nook of his shoulder as he skims my neck with his lips. They are so warm, like the blaze of flame. “Empty and hollow.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes.” I gasp when the tip of his tongue lashes out to flick at the flutter of my pulse. “I don’t understand.”

“I do.” His voice sounds pained. It’s that pain that draws my attention away from the pulsing ache enough to twist in his arms. To look at him.

“You do?”

He dips his head soberly, gravely. “The hunger is a consequence I must bear.” Sadness smothers the flames in his eyes for the first time—and it threatens to rip into my heart. “I will work endlessly to feed it. And if I am not enough…” His hand moves from my belly to cup the side of my face when I flinch away from him in horror.

Not enough?What is he talking about?

And what is that thought that niggles at me, just out of reach?

“Hades?”

“I will see to it that you never carry the weight of the burden that is mine to carry.” He smiles, but it cracks like glass under pressure.

“I don’t understand, Hades.”

His lips claim mine in a kiss that is so soft, so beautifully sad, it tears into the shredded ribbons of my soul. The tatters have been threaded to his own, weaved in such a way I know they can never be undone. I don’t want them to be undone. And yet, I feel like he’s plucking stitch after stitch, thread after thread, in the name of noble separation I do not crave.

My lips tremble against his as I ask, shaken, “Hades?”

He drags the tip of his nose along the line of mine in a heartbreaking caress that speaks of broken love. And then speaks words that will haunt me for far too long. “There is no pain I will not suffer for you, little goddess. There is nothing I will not stand witness to, if it brings you relief. There is no torment I would not bear if it meant you find the pleasure you crave.”

Chapter

Fourteen

Persephone

I can’t stop thinkingof Hades’ words as we ride through the Underworld. I am deeply bothered by them, even though they were rich with a devoted sweetness that reallyshouldn’tbother me. They nag at me like a splinter deep under the skin. There is something there—something under his words that I am desperate to understand, and yet can’t. There is something in my mind, a thought just out of reach. Like a name that is known and yet impossible to recall.

Our ride is slow and leisurely, as though Hades and Alastor want to offer me a view rather than hurry me to any specific location. I’m happy for it, even as that nagging tug in my mind fails to abandon me. The Underworld is beautiful. It’s like nothing I imagined when I studied the ancient myths.

The sights are unlike anything I’ve ever seen in my life. I know Asphodel City is ancient, but it’s ancient in the way that feels intimate. This precious intimacy is a thing that most of civilization on Earth has long since lost.

Clustered stone buildings with uneven, sloped roofs in burnished reds, deep blues, and earthy greens sprout knobby stone chimneys that spill little puffs of smoke into the starlight. Windows framed in twisted, richly stained wood offer little peek-a-boos into tiny homes that bustle with life.

The stretch of darkness might blanket this realm, but it’s very obviously awake time here. And as we pass the city, I loose a longing sigh to exploremore. I’ve been teased by the quaintest of homes that skirt the winding, bumpy cobble paths that maze through to the heart of the city. Sprouting like trees from the earth are black wrought iron lanterns, each designed apart from the one before it with drastic curlicues, lit with the flame of the Underworld. A dancing reminder of the sacrifice Hydra made for the souls who, eventually, all find their way here.

Bordering the entire city are pockets of asphodel flowers painted in the ghostly blue hues of night.

A warm voice with smoky undertones rumbles a promise at the shell of my ear. “You will see everything soon.”

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