Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 80653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“Miss.” A castle guard nods as I pass, and I offer him a smile. Upon entering the house, silence greets me, and I know everyone is in the living room on the west wing of the mansion.
Lifting the skirts of my dress, I race up the stairs. The doors are all shut. Silence hangs heavy in the air as I’m about to reach my bedroom. Rounding the corner, I slam into a hard, warm surface. Snapping my gaze up, I find the dark eyes of a man who is shrouded in shadows.
A gasp falls from my lips as I take him in with slow precision. His hair is as black as night, disheveled as if he’d just been running his fingers through it. The clothes he wears are the color of a crow’s feathers. When my eyes finally rise to his face, I notice his strong jaw with a hint of salt and pepper stubble. Full lips give way to a smirk so devious I want to look away, but find that I can’t.
It’s the smile he gifts me that causes my heart to thud wildly against my ribs. The corner kicking up, making his lips turn into something dark and sinful. I know him. My mind niggles, taunting me with the memory of seeing his face, but I don’t know where.
“I’m sorry,” I utter the words, sounding like a little girl.
He doesn’t respond. Instead, his hand lifts to my face. With a gentle touch, he sweeps a lock of my hair, placing it behind my ear. The heat of his touch, the way he pierces me with his raven-colored eyes, makes me nervous, yet excited at the same time.
“I’m Persephone.” My mouth moves of its own volition. I want to cringe at the immaturity of my actions, but something about this man turns me into a teenage girl.
“Oh, sweet one, I know who you are. A blossom in the deathliest winter. Sunshine piercing the darkest night.” His voice is low, almost humming the words.
My mind reels with a dizzy need I’ve only felt in the confines of my bedroom. The same twinge tightens my stomach, causing my thighs to clench tightly to ease the ache. That’s what a few words from this man, made of darkness, does to me.
Chapter 16
Hades
Her perfume invades my senses.
The beauty she possesses is otherworldly.
A delicate flower. Beautiful, poised, tempting.
After years in darkness, surrounding myself in the filth of the Underworld—blood, gore, and immorality—she’s a breath of fresh air. Her big brown eyes meet my dark ones with curiosity.
“And you are?” she questions with a smile so slight, yet so utterly intoxicating, I feel as if I’m still a man. Not the God of the Underworld, but a human with the chance at her hand in marriage, perhaps.
Her pink lips part. They’re plump, glistening with either her sweet saliva or some sort of gloss she’s put on. Maybe she has a suitor. The thought turns me livid.
Jealousy.
“Hades,” I tell her. Trailing my fingertips over her smooth, porcelain skin, I revel in the soft shudder that races through her body. “And you, my sweet girl, should be a queen. My queen, perhaps?”
My words earn me a gentle smile, which has a small dimple appearing in her cheek — a picture of innocence and beauty. Far too young for me, but I’ve never been one for rules.
“Hades,” she utters my name, rolling it on her tongue like a flavor she’d like to get used to. “You are the God of the Underworld.” Her words are sure. Of course, she knows me. Her parents would’ve told her about me.
“Indeed, I am.” I offer her a nod.
Her gaze penetrates me as if she sees through me down to the very depths of my blackened soul. I never thought I’d want a queen. Someone to share in the world I will forever rule over, but there’s something about her. Those pretty brown eyes flicker with something I recognize in myself. A volatile need.
“Why are you in my home?” she questions, tipping her head to the side.
I can’t help myself from lifting my hand to cup her cheek. Then gently, ever so slowly, I trail it down to her neck. My fingers grip the slender shape of her, needing to see her fear, perhaps a yearning for what I can offer. I want to strike her like a match and watch her burn with desire.
“I asked you a question,” she bites out as I squeeze, stealing her breath.
“Are you afraid, my queen?” My question earns me a smile. As delicate as the petals of a cherry blossom tree, her cheeks darken with a hue of pastel pink.
“It’s not your darkness, I fear, my king,” she responds easily.
Her words render me speechless, and my mind is awash with images of us ruling the Underworld together. Side by side in the depths of Hell. The gentle slope of her neck makes my mouth water. She swallows; her tongue darts out and wets her plump lips, causing them to shimmer. I allow silence to saturate us with its promise of what’s to come.