A low heat surged within me, and I drew in a steadying breath.
I looked up at her, realizing that she stood quite close. “The entire library is dedicated to such works?”
“It is,” she said slowly. “You had no idea there was an entire library full of erotic texts in your own home?”
“It’s very large, and there are many libraries, all dedicated to different topics.” And physical intimacy held no interest for me, in the same way that I had no interest in how a cobbler made shoes. It was an entirely mundane, human affair.
But, of course, Lucifer had taken her to this library. He’d likely read every book in the place, and no doubt thought it humorous that I might find her here.
The joke was on him. He could have taken her to the cobbler’s for all I cared.
I looked from the book back to Persephone. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes bright. Her lips soft.
Had I ever seen anything so soft in all my life?
I blinked, then shook my head. What an odd thought.
Yet, I couldn’t stop looking at her. At the pink in her cheeks that was . . . lovely?
Was that the word, for it?
Never had I looked upon something and found pleasure in the act. Prior to this, all things had appeared equal to me. They provided information, the end.
But Persephone . . .
Her form and face were different to look upon. I wanted to look longer. To study her.
I gripped the book, staring too long. Too hard. At the curve of her cheek, the sweep of her hair, the brightness of her green eyes. Her cloak draped around her shoulders, concealing her form. But I found I wanted to see beneath it.
Suddenly, I needed to know. Was ravenous to know. “Do you enjoy such books?”
“Um . . .” She swallowed hard.
“You do. You were entirely absorbed with this book when I entered.”
The passage that I’d first stumbled across flashed in my mind, yet it was she and I in the vision. I on my knees before her.
The idea was absurd. I shoved it away, the blood roaring in my head.
I knelt for no one.
“Enough.” I snapped the book shut and returned it to the shelf, disgusted with myself. “We must go.”
“Of course.” She stepped back. Cheeks still pink, she whirled to walk toward the door.
I followed, mind racing unacceptably as I looked at the spines of the books and imagined Persephone reading them. Enjoying them.
Even the concept of enjoyment was foreign.
I shook my head. Somehow, we’d gone from discussing power and knowledge to discussing . . . sex. Such a common, human thing.
Yet I was meant to be ice and darkness.
Seraphia
I followed Hades though the halls, moving quickly to keep up.
What the hell had just happened?
I’d just discussed erotic literature with Hades, Lord of the Underworld. Not in great detail, but we hadn’t needed to.
The way his eyes had gone entirely black, the pupils expanding to devour the
blue . . .
His breathing had sped up slightly, and his knuckles had whitened where he’d held the book. Almost unnoticeable.
Not to me.
I’d felt it all, too. Especially when he had appeared in the room.
I was destined to notice everything about him.
Particularly when it involved erotic books and the nearly inhuman god who acted as my captor. He’d probably never so much as touched another person with anything other than violence. Not to mention sex.
Of course he hadn’t.
There was no time for it when you were ruling hell and torturing people. Spreading cold nothingness and misery. He was a machine.
I forced myself to remember it.
I followed him out into the dusky light of midday, spotting the single massive stallion at the base of the castle stairs. A small pack was tied to the back of the saddle. I grimaced. “You have to be kidding me.”
He ignored me, taking the stairs two at a time. I hurried to keep up, grateful that I’d dressed in the sturdiest clothing in the wardrobe. There’d been no time to change—not with him charging away from me like I was the plague—and I didn’t want to ride that horse again in my unicorn shorts anyway.
I joined him on the last step. “We’re riding?”
“Of course.” He picked me up and swung me onto the horse, then vaulted into the saddle behind me, strong and solid. My butt settled against him, and he drew in a sharp breath, his hard chest pressing against my back.