Page 106 of Where Darkness Bloomed
She sat rigid in the throne, but her breath had steadied. Her eyes were still wide, though not with fear. Or, at least, not entirely. Understanding, the beginning of it, caught light in her gaze like the first spark before flame.
She saw it now, written in the marrow of this moment: the cruelty Tantalus had wrought, the child he’d butchered, the legacy of horror he had carved into the world.
This was the reckoning. The moment when evil was named, measured and weighed. And at last—repaid.
Punishment.
“Alecto,” Hades called, not looking away from her.
Flames erupted behind him.
Black fire surged from the floor, dark and seething. From the blaze, Alecto emerged, eyes like embers. The whip in her hand slithered, unfurling in the air, its flaming coils hissing like serpents.
Tantalus flailed helplessly, his feet rooted to the marble by an unseen force. The whip cracked, the blazing coils seizing him as his mouth stretched in a silent, agonized scream.
Alecto wrenched him from the ground. Flames swallowed them both, then died. Silence returned.
The air in the hall lightened, the oppressive tension lifting like night before dawn.
Hades nodded to the judges, and said, “That will be all.”
One by one, the judges bowed their heads. Then vanished.
Then, slowly, he brought his gaze back to the throne. Persephone still sat there—gracefully composed, if yet a touch uncertain. A sight both maddening and divine, her beauty crowned by his dominion.
The first time she had graced his throne room she had been barefoot, cloaked in a blanket. Trembling and fearful, believing he meant to ravage her.
Now she was clothed in starlight and shadows.
And he wanted her. Fiercely. Now.
Not with the wild fury of conquest, but with the ache of spring dawning after a long, ageless winter. He wanted to hear her laugh, to lose himself in its echo, to feel her hips warm beneath his hands, her limbs tangling with his, her cries scattering like blossoms in a storm.
A blush bloomed across her cheeks—soft, damning. As if she felt the desire rising like thunder beneath his silence.
He dragged a finger across his bottom lip, savoring the tension that pooled between them. “A throne becomes you,” he murmured, dark and warm.
She stood too quickly, as if the seat had burned her. “It is yours,” she said, a touch breathless.
Her gaze flickered away, searching for refuge—
There was none. Not from him.
In two strides, he closed the space between them. His hand lifted, brushing a curl back from her face. His touch followed the curve of her jaw, then stilled at the hollow of her throat, where her pulse danced.
Alive, untamed, maddeningly sweet.
Her eyes lifted, darkened with emotion. Her lips, slightly parted, seemed caught between words and want.
“I would have you rule with me,” Hades replied silkily, his thumb stroking over her pulse.
“In the judging of souls?” she breathed.
He stilled, meeting her eyes. “In everything.”
For a moment, green eyes searched his. “It’s a great responsibility, is it not?” she asked softly. “To judge them?”
“It is,” he acknowledged. “A burden I have long carried.”
