Page 143 of Where Darkness Bloomed
Hades’s gaze found hers. “The very same.”
Reaching up, he plucked one of the pomegranates. Its skin was smooth and glossy, dark as a garnet. He broke it open, the rind splitting with a soft crack. Inside, the seeds glistened like rubies. Juice slid down his fingers like wine as he held the broken fruit between them.
“There is a law,” he said, “older than Olympus, older even than the Titans. To eat of this realm is to belong to it not just in body, but in soul. A bond even gods cannot sever.”
She watched him in silence, eyes still and deep.
“When I was named ruler,” Hades continued, “I ate from the mountain’s wild grapevines, then drank from the Styx to seal my throne. Its waters carved my name into the stone foundation of this realm—its land, its roots. I am not merely its lord. I am its weight, its breath and law. Without me, the gates do not hold.”
He paused, then looked at her again. “If you eat, the same will be true of you.”
Her gaze dropped to the fruit in his palm—glistening, waiting.
“Persephone.”
He said her name softly, and she looked up again.
“This cannot be undone,” he said quietly.
Twilight deepened around them, settling over the garden. A soft breeze stirred the branches, rustling like a sigh between lovers. An intimacy deeper than touch wove between them, a thread unbroken.
Then, silently, she stepped closer. Her hands slid over his, warm and calm, steady as she lifted the fruit between them, bringing it to her mouth. Poised at her lips, the seeds tipped onto her tongue.
And she swallowed.
Breath left him in a rush. His heart thundered in an ancient, savagerhythm, breaking and reforging around her. The pomegranate rind slipped from his fingers, forgotten.
He gathered her into his arms, pulling her close until their foreheads met. In the hush of twilight, their breaths mingled—shallow, steady, shared.
Her hand rose, softly cradling his jaw. “I am already yours.”
Possessiveness surged through him, fierce and absolute, shaking him with its depth.
It was true. She had always been his, as surely as he had been shaped for her. But now it was sealed, sanctified by the most ancient of laws. She would walk beside him here, her soul entwined with his across the star-strewn expanse of eternity.
The truth of it burned in his chest, and Hades lowered his mouth to hers. Her taste mingled with the tart bite of the fruit, ripening on his tongue.
Then he lifted her easily, her body curving against his, arms winding around his neck as he carried her through the garden—their garden—the hush of the trees parting around them.
In a shifting of shadow, his himation hardened into black armor, sculpting to his form like night given form.
He stepped into the chariot, placing her before him. At her back, he stood, one arm wrapped around her waist as he had the first time. She leaned into him, fitting there beside his heart, in his arms.
He took the reins.
“Alastor,” he commanded, voice like distant thunder.
The great horse reared, smoke billowing from his nostrils like storm clouds. With a furious lunge, Alastor surged forward. The other mounts followed, hooves roaring over the ground as they charged.
The air screamed past in a tempest of shadows and starlit jewels. The chariot roared upward, a storm of obsidian and darkness, carrying them together—king and queen—toward the world above.
Part Three
Fruit
Chapter 53
Above the oak grove, stars burned cold and bright through the tangled branches.
