Page 46 of Hades and Persephone: Crown of Souls

“No.”

No? That's it. No.

I wait, but she says nothing else.

I lift my hand again to stroke the side of Aethon’s neck. Simply touching him makes me feel less uneasy, a little more like I can breathe.

I was close to this horse once, I think. Perhaps he was even mine. Like, really mine. Not simply borrowed from Hades.

“Then why are you here?”

Hecate floats closer.

I fight the urge to shiver.

“I have stood at Hades’ side for a very long time, Persephone. So long, in fact, that I was also a good friend to you.” Her words ring a bell of truth deep inside me, and yet I feel that same ember of unease. She seems to sense that, because her lips stretch in a thin smile. “I will not harm you. I would never harm you.” She adds softly after a second pause, “You don't need to fear me.”

“I don't fear you.”

“But you do.” She tips her head to the side, curious eyes narrowing. “You never did before, but you do now.”

“It's not fear.”

She considers. “It's not?”

I shake my head. “I don't think so. Unease?” I don’t know why I make it sound like a question. “You move a little funny. I mean weird. I mean?—”

I clamp my mouth shut. Frankly, the words had been rude, even as they’re honest. But there's really no other way to say it. Maybe it’s due to my human ineptness, but the way she movesisfunny in a weirdly disconcerting kind of way.

She seems to find my fumbling endearing rather than offensive, because that thin smile hitches at the corner. “Ah.” She moves another pace closer, and again, I hold my ground simply stroking Aethon even though I kind of want to flee.

She adds, “I have this effect on new souls.”

“I'm not a new soul. I'm alive.”

“You are still a soul.” She dips her chin. “And you are the first human to be welcomed into the Underworld, alive, in a very, very long time.”

“Oh?”

“Oh, yes.” She nods. “The first, in fact, since Adonis.”

The name is like a wrecking ball in my mind. The memory of the vision I'd had of myself and Addison—pictured as Adonis, rushes to the forefront of my mind.

With that vision comes questions, and with those questions come a collage of memories.

They steal my breath. I feel as though my stomach has fallen into my feet.

I can see Hades standing in the shadows, watching. His eyes always so dark, absent of the fire I've grown to love so much.

As warm lips drift across my skin, a touch that I do not crave wanders my body. It dips into my curves, exploring,invading. I can hear the echo of my ancient thoughts in a voice that is mine and yet not.Taunt him, it whispers.Show him that he wants you and only you, it urges.Make him act.Make him jealous. Make him claim.

I slam my eyes closed in reality as I slam my eyes closed in the vision—in the memory. He is inside my body now. I can feel him,and he is not Hades.

His heart is a storm of thunderous beats against my own, but mine rages for an entirely different reason. It rages in agony, because I feel it plainly in this moment. The way I felt then. The absence of worth. The hope that left me starving, never full.

The reality—the belief that my husband, King of the Underworld, God of the Dead and Afterlife, did not love me.

The memory shatters like glass into a thousand pieces. The shards rain down in splinters to imbed the cushion of my tender soul. I am bracing myself now against Aethon, and he holds my weight like the wall of strength he is. My breaths are deep, a sharp pain in my chest.

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