Page 95 of Where Darkness Bloomed
He left the worst unsaid, but the memory still burned brightly. The force behind every blow he’d landed, bones cracking and earth roiling beneath Typhon as he bore the beast’s wrath until the moment came.
Typhon’s black talon had torn through him, ripping into his chest, divine blood spilling hot over shattered rock. Poison laced with flame had surged into his veins, agonizing, searing.
Then the sky had cracked open with a scream of lightning.
Typhon had fallen.
Now the foul creature wasted away in Tartarus, rotting in the deepest pit of darkness. And he would remain there, until the stars rained from the sky.
Persephone’s eyes traced the scar on his chest. It was jagged and gold, carved into immortal flesh. A wound neither time nor divinity could erase.
Her fingers rose, hovering. Then she leaned in. Her hair fell across his chest like silk, her lips pressing softly to the scar he’d borne for eons. A touch light as breath. Fleeting, yet devastating.
It undid him. The heat that surged through him eclipsed memory and pain—not merely desire but devotion, aching and wild.
With fluid grace, he sat up, his hands sliding to her hips as he guided her into his lap. She came easily, her knees bracketing his hips, breath hitching as her body settled against his. They fit together with easy intimacy, chest to chest, breath to breath.
He held her there, his eyes searching hers. Then he bent his head, his lips brushing the steady thrum of her pulse. His voice spilled roughly against her skin. “This realm will fall to ash and ruin before I allow harm to touch you.”
The earth answered. A tremor moved beneath them, deep and slow. Like a beast shifting in sleep. As though the realm itself had heard its king’s oath—
And bowed at her feet.
Chapter 38
Persephone stirred as Hades slipped from the bed, his warmth vanishing from her skin like dying embers. She shifted, her cheek sinking deeper into the soft linens. Eyes half-lidded, she blinked into the quiet dark.
Across the chamber, Hades stood before the scrying pool, still and silent. The muscles of his back shifted as he crossed his arms. A dark garment hung low around his hips, carelessly knotted.
His gaze was fixed on the water at his feet. A god lost in thought. Regal. Watchful.
“Troy.”
The surface of the pool shivered, rippling as an image formed in the water.
Persephone sat up, watching as a city rose in the reflection. Towers encircled its heart like a crown, armored battlements crowded with archers, their bows poised and drawn.
She wrapped a blanket around herself and crossed the chamber barefoot. She stopped at his side—close enough to feel the hum of his power in the air between them, moving over her skin like a breath in the dark.
Hades glanced down at her, warmth kindling in his eyes. “You’ve grown fond of wearing my blankets.”
Her lips twitched. “I’ve had little choice,” she said mildly. “A blanket, or nothing at all.”
The corner of his mouth tipped, his gaze dragging slowly over her. “And still you chose the blanket,” he said, voice sliding deeper. “Are you cautious of your husband?”
Her head tilted as she met his eyes. “You are occupied with other matters.”
That drew a soft laugh from him. “You overestimate my discipline.”
“Or you overestimate my modesty,” she murmured, almost under her breath. “I was raised among nymphs.”
The words slipped out too easily, and too late, she felt the heat rise in her cheeks.
He turned to her fully then, slow and deliberate. The glint of amusement in his gaze darkened, edged with something faintly wicked. One hand rose to the nape of her neck, his touch a reverent brush that sent a shiver through her.
He drew her in with quiet command, his head bowing until his mouth brushed the shell of her ear. “Then let there be no confusion, wife,” he said, his voice dark as night and steeped in promise. “I far prefer you wrapped in shadow and firelight… and me.”
Her bones went liquid at the words. Feeling unsteady, she leaned into him, letting her head rest against his shoulder.
