Page 28 of Where Darkness Bloomed
She lay alone on a low, wide bed in an empty chamber. Towering columns of black marble framed the room, their jeweled seams fracturing the firelight.
At the center of the bedchamber, a large stone hearth crackled merrily—the only sound. Its warmth reached across the wide chamber, brushing her bare skin.
Cold fear jolted through her as she looked down. Beneath the blanket draped over her, she was naked.
Breath quickening, she gathered the blanket around her and slowly rose from the bed. On unsteady legs, she stepped toward the fire’s warmth.
“You should take care.”
A voice broke the silence, deep and calm.
Kore spun.
He was there. Leaning against a column at the edge of the firelight, Hades watched her.
His armor was gone. In its place, a dark himation draped his powerful frame, as it had on Olympus. His arms crossed his chest, his hair unbound now, falling just past his shoulders. He held himself with quiet command, a calm but formidable presence.
He made no move toward her. Only watched her, as she watched him.
Finally, he spoke.
“We have not yet been introduced.”
“You are Hades.” The words spilled breathlessly from her lips, too quickly. “Lord of the Underworld.”
He didn’t smile. But something stirred in his gaze—not cruel or amused. Something deeper, unreadable. Then, to her surprise, he bent his head.
It was solemn, formal.So unexpected from one of his power, it felt nearly like mockery. But she knew it was not.
“Persephone,” he said, invoking her title as before. “You are welcome here.”
Her throat tightened, but she managed to say, “My lord... I do not know where I am.”
“You are in my home.”
The words fell like a rock cast down a well, falling with weight that echoed far beneath the surface.
“I am undressed,” she said softly.
“You are.” A simple acknowledgment, calm and unabashed. “Your clothing was badly burned. Few things from the mortal world survive passage through the Phlegethon.”
The river. Fire flashed through her memories. The heat searing her skin, her chest pressed to his in the dark.
She drew the blanket tighter around herself. A shield, however useless.
He caught the motion. His steady gaze found hers across the firelit hush. “You were brought here as you are. To recover.” A pause. “No hand touched you but mine. And mine did not stray.”
Her face burned hotly.
“Have I offended you?” The question barely rose from her lips, soft as breath.
Across the chamber, his features shifted. The sternness in him eased—tempered, a quieter force stirring beneath the iron. “No,” he said. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”
Relief stirred momentarily, but it didn’t settle. Her mind churned, questions tangling into frantic snarls.
“Why am I here?”
At her question, he pushed away from the column. The motion brought him to his full, imposing stature. The space between them drew close, suddenly smaller. His gaze held hers.
