Series: Willow Winters
Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 94417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
“As if you are not privy to such displays in Olympus,” I comment as shame rises with her judgement. “As if you cannot understand why such acts are needed.
“I–” She starts but cannot finish.
“He was one man. One who spoke when he should not have, coveted where he damn well knew he should not.”
“You said–”
“Perhaps it is that you are so beautiful he could not resist.”
She parts her lips in protest.
“He knew … I know he did. You denied him and so he perished. It is just.”
A shiver rolls down her shoulders.
“Let me make it up to you.” I offer a distraction. “Your powers are–”
“My powers do not work here.” She cuts me off. Seemingly more distant than before. “I cannot bring life in the Underworld.”
With the guard far off in the distance and no trace of the abuse that occurred apart from a streak of blood on the floor, I use a cloth from my pocket of black and rid myself of the evidence, still standing between her and the sight behind me.
“There are other powers,” I murmur, knowing what is to come.
“I do not want others,” Persephone screams, and as the sound is multiplied by the room, the air grows hotter with her anger. My pulse rises with it. This is but a flick of what I know she’s capable of. “I do not belong here,” she states. Her lips and eyes darker as she stands before me. A vision of her I’ve seen flashes before my eyes.
“You do belong here. More than you know.” It’s a promise. This was meant to happen. “Next to me. Reigning beside me. You must learn the ways of the Underworld.”
Her hands ball into fists at her sides. She clenches her jaw, her cheeks bright with her fury. “I will never stand beside you.”
“Consider—” If she means her words to batter me, she has failed. There is nothing that can dissuade me.
“You did this to me.” She narrows her eyes, the color dark, almost murderous. “I know who and what you are, and I will never obey. I regret what I felt for you. I regret it all.”
The thread of my patience snaps. Persephone has been sheltered, yes, but she should not be so bold as to presume she knows what I am. She does not know enough to speak to me so, and her anger is both misguided and useless.
Perhaps she is not ready. Perhaps I should not have given her such freedoms. It is my mistake. As I tilt my head, my neck cracks and I do what I can to temper my rage at her thoughtless statements.
Breathing in deeply, I call out for the guards.
The clank of metal is met with the sound of her sharp gasp. “Take her to my chambers.” I cannot look at her as I give the command.
She doesn’t resist. She doesn’t protest and I am thankful for such things. Even if she screams profanities at the men who escort her.
“Do not touch me!” she hisses and that gets my attention.
“You will not harm her,” I emphasize to them although they are far more aware than she that they lay beneath her feet.
Her eyes catch mine for only a moment and then she strides ahead with them trailing behind. Disappointment is my only company as I stare back down to my hands, the blood filled in the cracks of my roughly calloused palm.
How could she feel such things for a guard who would put his desires before his duty?
She … is so far from the queen I envision. Yet I feel her power so close.
If this plagues her… if one act of so little consequence yields a reaction from her of this magnitude how will she ever face the courts? Let alone rule them?
She knows not of his previous life and his debts. She knows not anything of him and yet, she persists in anger and torments me so?
I am tired of this lack of progress. I am tired of her focus on what she believes to be true rather than what could be true if she would stop railing against it.
The new rage that burns in me is only because of the memory of the damned soul’s quiet offer. Of how he thought, for an instant, I would let him put his hands on her.
And worse—
The sickening question of whether she would want it. I had not known what Persephone’s answer would be. I had not dared to hope that she would refuse.
I crave her satisfaction and yet it appears that I am ill equipped.
I was a fool. There is no such ease with Persephone. She is far too naive, too flighty, to understand that blood on the floor does not always mean a monster is nearby. That fucking loyalty does not make a person a threat. That she could be free of her imagined prison if she would accept her true status, and her true power. That the ties that bind her would be nothing if she realized she’s the one who made them.