Forbidden Fruit - A Naughty Collection - Page 68

“If you miss your flowers, I’ll take you to the garden,” he tells me then. “Come, my queen.” He offers his hand, which I gratefully accept. The electricity that sizzles through me at the contact warms me from the inside out. I want more than what I had above ground, more than just existing. I want to live.

Hades guides me through hallways of darkened windows and locked doors. Each one we pass holds secrets; this, I know. I’ve heard terrible stories about this Underworld. Mother painted such sordid pictures for me when she told me about it.

Once we reach outside, Hades pulls me beside him, stopping just outside the enormous, ornate metal doors that lead back into the castle. Or palace. I’m not even sure what to call it. He waves his hand, gesturing toward the black cobblestones that lead through blackened trees, and I wonder briefly what he’s doing. It doesn’t take long for the darkness to turn to color.

Leaves slowly change from charcoal to bright green. The stems of all the flowers match, and when the bulbs pop from their raven-hued petals to pinks, reds, orange, and an array of other colors, it steals my breath.

“This will be yours,” he promises.

It’s like a rainbow of beauty in a world of darkness and danger. I can’t speak for a moment as I take in the flowers. Tentatively, I take a few steps down onto the cobbled pathway that leads through the garden.

It’s a curved road of freshly blooming buds, and my heart is filled with happiness. It isn’t as big as I expected, but the space is perfectly patterned to offer a picturesque view even though I’m in the dark.

“This is more than I expected.”

“Is it?” he questions from behind me. The curious tone of his voice has me turning to regard him with a small smile.

“It is. I thought . . .” Allowing my words to filter into the silence, I’m unsure of what to say to him. I don’t want to anger him, but I wasn’t expecting such beauty in such an ugly world. This is his kingdom and mine, and I want to show it the love it deserves.

Aren’t all broken things in need of more love than those counterparts that are whole?

“You thought this place would be filled with horrors,” he says, nodding as he utters the words, and I find myself moving my head in agreement. “I won’t deny there are many things that are evil lurking amongst the walls of my kingdom, but this . . .” The king smiles as he regards the flowers once more. “This was always meant to be for the queen, who was strong enough to stand beside me.”

There’s a wistfulness in his voice, and I want so badly for him to come to me, to take me in his arms. He stole me from the light, brought me to the darkness, and now I’m finding myself wanting him more than I thought I would.

He’s not a good man.

At least, that’s what I believed him to be, but when I meet his gaze, the dark irises that regard me allow me to stare right through him. He’s showing me his soul. And in the darkness that shrouds him, I see his light. Dim as it might be, I see his broken pieces that hold the love and affection he has for this Underworld he rules.

And I realize, in this moment he’s bare to me, I will be his queen.

Forever.

Chapter 22

Hades

She watches me as I allow her inside my soul. I’ve never let anyone look right into me before, and it scares me. I’m more afraid of her running away than I am of anything I’ve ever been through before. There’s nothing that can stop my affection for her. I’ll give her the world, both aboveground and below. I wish I could tell her that. But fear holds me back.

Finally, after moments of watching me, she smiles. “You’re not the evil person people make you out to be.” Her words are a balm to my rather fragile heart, and I can’t help but chuckle in response. Persephone steps closer toward me, closing the distance between us, and as she does so, her perfume wafts around me, filling my senses with sweetness.

“And you believe I’m a good man?” My brow lifts, arching in question as I gaze down at the beauty before me. Her flowing red hair hangs in curls over her smooth, porcelain shoulders.

“You are,” she tells me adamantly. “You may rule the Underworld, but you’re far from bad or evil. Stories are told about you. They’re all lies. Aren’t they?” Her face is a picture of innocence, and I wonder what it would take to corrupt her.

What would it take to make her doubt everything she’s ever believed in?

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