Page 94 of Hades and Persephone: Crown of Souls

“Did I get this close before? As a full, not-so-vulnerable,realGoddess?”Okay, so maybe I’m a little jealous of myself.

It’s a wild feeling.Don’t recommend it.

Hades shakes his head. Slowly. “No.”

Hope crests in my chest. “How far did I make it last time? Before the blisters?”

I dare another step. We’re standing with maybe two arm lengths between us, but the warmth that rolls off him is more than tolerable. It’s soothing.

I crave more.

“Not this close.” The words grind from the depths of him, wrapped in restraint. The shadows tremble, as though he’s holding himself back.

The twin moons outside give another tug. This time, it’s not gentle.

My womb contracts.

Hades’ nostrils flare and I swear his fangs lengthen.

I know what I must do.

Chapter

Thirty-Five

Hades

A flushof rose-pink blooms on pale skin. Her red hair is drenched in the blood of the moons that spill in from the balcony. She glides straight white teeth over her bottom lip, her canines pointed just enough to promise a touch of pain.

A low growl of hunger bubbles in my chest, demanding a freedom I refuse.

If I loose the growl, I will inhale a breath I can’t afford.

If I inhale, I’ll taste the scent of her need.

And it will be my downfall and her destruction.

I can’t risk it, wish for the first time since I caught the heady warmth of her delicious scent that it would take pity on me and vanish.

I’m coming to suspect that it has something to do with the moons in the sky, and their turning red. After they first appeared, the red had dimmed to a milky rose white. But over the cycle, they’d deepened to this blood red that they now glow.

And the scent of her need grew more and more irresistible to me. I’d asked Thanatos if he could smell her. He couldn’t but pointed out his preference for Hermes.

I’d cracked and asked Hypnos, who chased women like a hound chased a mutt in heat.

He’d admitted to finding Persephone compellingly attractive, much to my frustration, but had no idea what scent I spoke of.

The scent I was sure taunted madness from the cage I worked constantly to keep it contained within.

Now that scent is stronger than it has ever been. I am certain if I stole even a whiff, my resolve to not test her tolerance for my heat further would crack.

My eyes drop from the glow of her deep green gaze to the hands she lifts to the tie at her waist. Already, the robe she wears does little to keep the want from bulldozing my control.

If she does what I think she’s about to do…

The robe falls open.

For the love of Tartarus. Fuuuuck.

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