Page 82 of Where Darkness Bloomed
He cupped her face, his touch steady as he brought her forehead gently to his.
“Because you are mine. As I am yours.”
When Hades gathered her to him again, she pressed closer still. Her body fitted to his, her face buried against his chest, seeking comfort in the arms of the one who had caused her pain.
His hand moved in long, sweeping strokes down her back. Silent promises spoken in touch alone. In the stillness, he let her feel it—the weight of his presence, his certainty. The depth of the bond now woven between them.
Not just his claim of her. But hers of him.
Gradually, the ragged edge of her breathing smoothed. Her head rested against his chest as she sank deeper into his embrace, surrendering to exhaustion.
Hades watched her, his thumb tracing the path of the tears that had dried on her cheeks. Only then did he let himself remember.
The way she had stood beside the brazier, fear clashing with longing in her eyes. His desire had burned fiercely, consuming as wildfire. But her uncertainty had tempered the fire, demanding gentleness.
He had approached her slowly. Touched her with care. And when she had clutched at him—nails digging into his shoulders—he had welcomed the sting, hungered for it. Craved her touch in every form.
She’d already been trembling when their bodies finally aligned.
He had moved slowly, reining in the wild roar of his blood. Holding her close, he had captured her mouth, his tongue mating with hers as he thrust, swift and deep, to see it done.
But beneath him, Persephone had cried out, a sharp, startled cry as pain rippled through her features. A cry that cut through the haze of pleasure clouding his mind.
Bending his head, he had pressed his lips to her brow, murmuring softreassurances into her skin. Her grip on his shoulders remained, clinging, but the tension began to ease, her body slowly adjusting.
Only then did he move.
Slow. Gentle. Controlled.
He saw it when wonder lit in her eyes, tentative and bright. The flicker of realization as pleasure began to bloom between them. And then the flash of panic when instinct warred with the unfamiliar.
He’d caught her wrists, holding her still, coaxing her to trust him as he guided her to the edge. His thrusts deepened, his fingertips stroking her softly.
And then her head tipped back, exposing the line of her throat to him. Her spine bowed as release crashed down over her.
He held her through it, watching every captivating moment. Letting her ride the crest of it against him.A heartbeat later, his own had followed.
Release found him violently, wrenching a guttural sound from his throat as his hips bucked, his body spilling into hers. He moved through the pleasure, let it take him. Until nothing remained. Until he was spent—sated, utterly lost in her.
Afterward, her face had flickered with emotion. But when he reached for her, she came to him willingly. Her fingers curled against his chest, her breath warm at his throat.
Even as Kore slipped way, Persephone clung to him. Seeking him. Seeking the bond now woven between their sweat-slicked bodies, sacred and searing. Forged in pleasure and pain, fate and oath.
Now, he watched her.
She lay settled against him, warm and calm in sleep. Firelight cast soft shadows over her peaceful features. With aching care, he brushed a strand of hair from her face.
His lips pressed to her brow, a whisper following. “You are not lost.”
A claim, a vow.
“You are Persephone,” he murmured. “And you are home.”
Chapter 35
Persephone.
The haze of sleep lifted slowly.
