Hades’ head jerked and he stared at her.
“What?”
Obviously, she wasn’t making sense. “If you don’t want me—if you don’t think you can forgive me, I don’t think we should be in a relationship, the Fates be damned.”
It was the first time Hades moved since he’d entered the room.
He took deliberate strides toward her and spoke as he moved.
“I never said I didn’t want you. I thought I made that clear yesterday.”
She rolled her eyes. “So, you want to fuck me? That doesn’t mean you want an actual relationship. It doesn’t mean you will trust me again.”
Hades stopped inches from her and narrowed his eyes. “Let me be perfectly clear. I do want to fuck you. More importantly, I love you—deeply, endlessly. If you walked away from me today, I would love you still. I will love you forever. That’s what Fate is, Persephone. Fuck threads and colors…and fuck your uncertainty.”
His bent closer to her as he spoke, his face inches from hers.
“I’m not uncertain,” she said. “I’m afraid, you idiot!”
“Of what? What have I done?”
“This isn’t about you! Gods, Hades. You’d think you of all people would understand.”
She turned her head away, unable to look at him.
After a moment, Hades spoke again, urging, “Tell me.”
Persephone’s mouth quivered. “I’ve longed for love all my life,” she said. “Longed for acceptance because my mother dangled it in front of me like something I had to earn. If I adhered to her expectations, she would grant it, if I didn’t, she’d take it away. You want a queen, a goddess, a lover. I can’t be what you want. I can’t…adhere to these…expectations you have of me!”
There was something freeing about saying all of that out loud. She suddenly felt lighter, like she’d let go of a boulder she’d been carrying on her back.
“Persephone—” Hades’ fingers pressed beneath her chin. She met his gaze. “What do you think of when you think of a queen?”
Persephone’s brows knitted together, and she shook her head as she admitted, “I don’t know. I know what I would like to see in a queen.”
“Then what would you like to see in a queen?”
“Someone who is kind…compassionate…present.”
Hades’ thumb brushed her lips. “And you do not think you are all those things?”
She didn’t answer, and Hades said, “I’m not asking you to be a queen. I’m asking you to be yourself. I’m asking you to marry me. The title comes with our marriage. It changes nothing.”
Persephone swallowed. “Are you asking me to marry you again?”
“Will you?”
Her breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t answer. For the last few weeks, she and Hades hadn’t exactly been on speaking terms. They had too much to reconcile. Her eyes watered, and tears streaked her face. Hades brushed them away.
“My darling, you do not have to answer now. We have time—an eternity.”
Their lips met—their kiss sinful and rough and desperate. Persephone felt feverish and frenzied. The adrenaline made her bold, and she reached into his pants, working his cock with her hand. Hades groaned, his teeth skimmed her bottom lip as he pulled away to explore her jaw and neck and breasts.
He looked stunned when she pushed him away. They stood apart for a moment, breathing hard, hot and wet and wild. Then Persephone planted a hand on his chest and directed him backward until the back of his knees hit the bed.
“Sit,” she commanded.
He did, and she held his gaze as she knelt before him. His eyes glitter like obsidian.