A Touch of Darkness (Hades & Persephone 1)

The Goddess of Witchcraft left to get ready for tonight’s festivities, leaving Persephone alone.

“This is the closest I have ever looked to a goddess,” she said aloud, smoothing her hands over her dress.

The feel of Hades magic gave her pause. It was warm and safe and familiar. She prepared to teleport, since the last time she had felt it, that’s exactly what had happened. This time, however, Hades appeared behind her. She met his dark eyes in the mirror and started to turn, but Hades’ voice rang out.

“Don't move,” he said. “Let me look at you.”

His instructions were more of a request than a command, and she swallowed, barely able to handle the heat his presence ignited inside her. He radiated power and darkness, and her body responded—craved the power, hungered for the heat, yearned for the darkness. She burned to touch him but held his gaze for a breath before he started a slow circle around her.

When he finished, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her back against his chest, welding their bodies together.

“Drop your glamour,” he said.

She hesitated. In truth, her human glamour was her security, and Hades’ command made her want to hold onto it tighter.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I wish to see you,” he said.

It was like her grip tightened on the glamour, but Hades coaxed in a voice that made her melt,

“Let me see you.”

She closed her eyes and released her hold.

Her glamour slipped away like water dripping down her skin, and she

knew when it was completely gone because she felt both unburdened and raw.

“Open your eyes,” Hades encouraged, and when she did, she was in her goddess form.

Everything about her presence had intensified, and she glowed against Hades’ darkness.

“Darling, you are a goddess,” Hades said, and pressed his lips to her neck and along her shoulder. Persephone wrapped her hand around his neck, pulling him to her. Their lips crashed together, and when Hades growled, Persephone turned in his arms.

“I have missed you.” He cupped her face, eyes searching.

She wondered what he was looking for.

“I missed you, too.”

The admission made her blush, and Hades smirked, pulling her in for another kiss. His lips brushed hers—once, twice—teasing, before Persephone wrapped her arms around his neck and sealed their lips together. She was ravenous and he tasted rich and smoky, like the whisky he drank. Her hands slipped down his chest. She wanted to touch him, feel his skin against her own, but Hades stopped her with his hands on her wrists, breaking their kiss.

“I am just as eager, my darling,” he said. “But if we do not leave now, I think we shall miss your party.”

She wanted to pout, but she also knew he was right.

“Shall we?” he asked, holding out his hand.

When she took it, Hades dropped his glamour. She could watch it all day—the way his magic moved like shadow, peeling off him like smoke, revealing his striking form. His hair fell over his shoulders, and a silver crown made of jagged edges decorated the base of his massive horns. The suit he had been wearing moments ago was replaced by black robes, the edges embroidered in silver.

“Careful, Goddess,” Hades warned in a low growl. “Or we won’t leave this room.”

She shivered and quickly looked away.

Fingers laced, he led her out of the suite and into the hallway. They came to a set of gilded doors. Beyond them she could hear the low rumble of a large crowd. Her anxiety spiked, probably because she had no glamour to protect her. She realized that was silly. She knew these people and they knew her. Still, she felt like an impostor—an impostor goddess, an impostor queen, an impostor lover.

Each of those thoughts hurt worse than the other so she shoved them down deep and entered the ballroom beside Hades.