Page 59 of Where Darkness Bloomed
Then she stepped forward. Into the narrow space he’d left between them. A flare of heat lit the air suddenly, burning brighter than the furnace behind him.
“But beauty has many forms, does it not?” she asked, gently defiant. She tilted her head, holding his gaze. “The beauty of fire, its flames curling against the night. The beauty of creation, shaped by hands with mastery.” She gestured to the forge, gleaming with marvels that whispered of their master’s unrivaled skill.
Another step forward brought her to him, and her breasts brushed the leather stretched over his chest. Hephaestus was still, his eyes fixed on her face. His body was a taut line of restraint, his hands curling into fists at his sides.
“Beauty and perfection are not the same,” Aglaia whispered, lifting her hand again.
This time, he didn’t stop her. He stood like stone as her fingers brushed the roughness of his jaw. His eyes slid shut at the touch, a subtle tremor rippling through his powerful frame.
“I came to you,” she said softly, “because I wish to be yours.”
His eyes opened, but they were no longer dark. The irises blazed amber—dangerous, utterly consuming like wildfire as his gaze swept over her in a searing caress.
It lasted only a moment. Then his shoulders tensed, his jaw locking. His entire body coiled, bracing against something unseen.
“You must go.” The words were jagged, as though harshly torn from somewhere deep within him.
The rejection was sharper than a blade. Her hand fell to his broad chest, where his heart pounded beneath muscle and leather. “Do not send me away,” Aglaia whispered, her voice breaking.
He inhaled sharply, his chest rising under her palm. For a moment, the space between them was glass-thin, one touch from shattering. The fire in his eyes flared brighter, fiercer, tracing every detail of her face with aching intensity.
Then, like a door slamming shut, his gaze shuttered. He turned his head sharply, shielding her from the firestorm raging in his eyes.
“Go.” It was softer, but no less commanding.
Then he stepped back from her. Cold rushed in where his warmth had been, an abyss opening between them.
Hot tears stung Aglaia’s eyes. She turned swiftly toward the door, gripping the iron handle. Throwing her weight against it, she pulled hard, desperate to flee before she shattered entirely.
The door shifted slowly, creaking open a sliver—then slammed shut beneath a heavy palm.
She gasped.
Heat pressed against her back. One large hand braced above her head, flat against the door, holding it shut. The other settled at her waist with quieter authority. Slowly, he turned her to face him.
Her back met the door. His arms caged her in, hands planted on either side of her. The air smoldered, wild, wordless tension wrapping around her like flame.
A rough knuckle brushed her chin, lifting it. Forcing her to meet his gaze.
The depth in his eyes—searing, forceful—stripped her bare. There was nowhere to hide. Nothing left but the snarled emotions tangling in her chest and the tears already sliding down her face.
For a moment, he didn’t speak. Just looked at her, his gaze roaming her face as if he was memorizing it.
“Why are you here, bright one?”
The words were soft, a murmur spoken not to her, but to himself.
His thumb caught a tear trailing down her cheek, Aglaia’s shattered heart clenching as he wiped it away. His touch left faint grit behind, a soft smear of soot on her cheek. A mark of him.
As his hand slid away, his gaze softened. The fierce fire in his eyes dimmed into something deeper, tempered, aching, and impossibly gentle.
He bent his head. She felt the whisper of his breath stir the loose strands of her hair.
“I will see you again, Aglaia.”
Then his lips brushed her brow, fleeting yet searing. For a moment, the world was suspended in a single, burning touch.
Fire erupted around him. The heat licked at her skin, but it wasn’t the blaze that stole her breath. It was the emptiness that remained as the flames died, and he was gone.
