Persephone felt something sour in the back of her throat. That day she’d interrupted Pirithous, when he’d seemed so nervous, he’d been working on a list.
“What are you doing?”
Persephone jerked her hand away from the journal, as her head snapped toward the door where Pirithous now stood, blocking her exit. His eyes were steely and made her blood run cold.
She opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t find words. Her heart was beating out of her chest, and a thin sheen of sweat beaded on her forehead.
“Pirithous,” she breathed. “I came to say goodbye.”
“Really?” he asked. “Because it looked like you were snooping.”
“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. There was a brief moment where neither of them spoke and then Persephone reached for the closest, heaviest object—a flashlight sitting on Pirithous’ desk. She threw it at his head, and as he dodged the blow, she attempted to rush past him, but he reached for her, his nails digging into her skin.
“Let me go!” she screamed, her magic rushed forth, and vines sprouted around them.
Persephone barely had time to register her shock before Pirithous spoke. “Sleep!”
Persephone obeyed, falling into darkness.
***
When she woke, she felt as if she’d been drugged. Her vision was blurry, her head hurt, and her mouth was stuffed with a cloth and taped shut. Her hands were bound behind her back, and she sat in a hard, wooden chair that cut into her arms.
Persephone immediately tried to free herself, but the knot grew tighter. Soon, she became frantic, rocking the chair back and forth.
Then she caught sight of her surroundings and froze. There were pictures and newspaper clippings of her everywhere. Photos taken as she walked down the street, ran errands, and had lunch with her friends. Photos of her at her home, in her pajamas, and sleeping. The images were a log of her daily life. She felt sick and frantic.
“You’re awake.”
Pirithous came into view.
Persephone screamed, though her cries were muffled, and tears spilled down her cheeks.
“Stop, stop, stop!” he commanded. He reached forward and pulled the tape and gag from her mouth.
“It is alright, my love. I won’t hurt you.”
“Don’t call me that!” she snapped.
Pirithous jaw tightened. “It is no matter,” he said. “You will love me.”
“Fuck you,” Persephone spat.
The man shot forward, twining his fingers into her hair and pulling her head back. When she met his gaze, she noticed the color of his irises had changed from black to gold.
“You’re...a demi-god?”
A wicked smile cut across his face. “Son of Zeus.”
“Oh gods, no wonder you’re such a fucking creep.”
He jerked her hair harder and Persephone yelped, arching to lessen the tension.
“Ungrateful,” he hissed. “I’ve been protecting you.”
“You’re hurting me.”
“You think this is pain?” he asked, but he released her. “Pain is watching the woman you love fall for someone else.”