Page 93 of Hades and Persephone: Crown of Souls

My eyes drop from his, down the length of his body. Again, my gaze snags on the proud length of his swollen arousal where it hangs weighted between powerful legs.

I suck in a sharp breath as a stabbing pain slices into the hollow emptiness that plagues me.

Slamming my palm into my belly, I cut my gaze to the open balcony where twin moons, full and heavy and bright, both burning blood red, one marbled gold and the other liquid onyx, peer back at me.

“They weren’t always this color,” Hades murmurs roughly into the silence.

I don’t look at him. I’m caught up in the pull of the moons. It’s magnetic—as though my very womb is attached to the twins by an invisible thread.

I manage, “What?”

“The moons,” Hades’ deep voice rumbles like a forbidden caress. “They were once brilliant white. One veined gold the other onyx. Now, they shine red.”

“Why?”

Hades shakes his head. “I don’t know. It was never this way before. Before your return.”

That thread gives a violent tug. The pang in my womb nearly makes me cry out.

As it is, I wince.

Hades seems to sense it, because he takes a single step forward in concern before stilling himself. “What is it?”

“I don’t—” I swear, the urge to touch him pulses along that invisible thread from the moons to my hollow core. “I think they want me to touch you.”

“No.”

Tearing my eyes from the moons, I study the monster.My monster. My soul mate. The God of the Underworld.

Maybe it’s a good thing Mom and Dad can’t see me now. Maybe it’s a kindness that they think I’m dead, so their human minds bound in the concrete of their beliefs, won’t be shattered by a truth they would never be able to accept.

Ignoring the prick of loss in my chest, I take a step toward him. My voice sounds stronger than I feel. “I’m not afraid, Hades.”

“Persephone,” he warns.

“Just try.” I take another step. A little of that pain in my core eases even as the yawning hollowness grows. Another step. “For me.”

He remains still as a statue.

Another step.

I’m not even sure he’s breathing.

Another step.

He grids out, “You feel nothing?”

“Just warmth.” And raging need that brutalizes my insides.

Another step.

Energy crackles along Hades’ skin, the ribbons of magma appearing liquid as they surge between the dips and rises of muscle.

“Stop,” he commands.

I freeze. Inside my chest, my heart is cracking to a thunderous tune of wild hunger. Blood rushes behind my ears, swirling in my mind. I feel dizzy with it, and yet somehow, I am steady as I wait.

His wide chest swells with big breaths that he drags loudly into his lungs.

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