guaranteed that she’d survive.
Just as she might not survive now.
I could feel her life force drifting away.
My breath shuddered through my lungs as I pressed my palm to her chest. Carefully, I drew the pain and injury from her, knitting her back together. My magic was death, and I could take that same death from a person, healing them by removing that which plagued them.
Come on.
The blood leaking from her skull seemed to slow, and the wound began to close. She looked so delicate in my arms, but she wasn’t too far gone.
Hope flared, the strangest, most uncomfortable emotion.
I tried to ignore it, focusing instead on healing Seraphia. It worked, and I felt her begin to improve. There was a connection between our souls, tying us together so that I felt her life force in a way I’d never felt another.
It had been there when I’d first found her, but it’d grown stronger at the temple.
She shifted, moaning slightly.
I wasn’t going to lose her.
She was going to recover.
My racing heart slowed, the fear draining away.
When she woke, she’d try just as hard to escape me. Harder, even. She hadn’t liked the vision she’d seen in the temple. Neither had I, but I would walk toward it rather than away.
Now was my moment.
I would tie her to this place so that she would be ever forced to return.
I propped her against me and pulled the tiny vial of pomegranate solution from my pocket. The mage had masked the flavor, fortunately. With one hand, I popped it open. With the other, I continued to feed my healing magic into her.
“Seraphia, you must drink this, or you’ll die.” The lie came so easily.
I pressed it to her lips, but she turned her head away, eyes still closed. “No.”
“You must. It will heal you. The blood loss is too much.”
Her brow furrowed, and she grimaced. I hadn’t finished healing all the damage, and she was too far gone to realize how I was healing her, specifically. She’d believe it was due to a potion.
“Take it. It’s a healing potion.”
Finally, she parted her lips and drank.
Relief flowed through me, and I felt the last of her wounds knit themselves together, her strength returning.
When she’d finished drinking the small vial of pomegranate liquid, I pulled it away and shoved it back in my pocket, repairing the last of her wounds with my gift.
The faintest guilt seared me, but I shoved it aside. Guilt? Surely, I didn’t feel such a thing.
Finally, she opened her eyes. Her gaze was clear. She was alive and well.
Relief surged through me, strong and pure, more powerful than any I’d ever known.
I needed to be closer to her. To taste her.
Instinct drove me. I pulled her to me, crushing my lips to hers.
Pleasure seared, the press of her soft lips against my own. It exploded inside me, and for a brief, shining moment, there was nothing but her. No darkness and no light, no pain, and no torment.
Just her. Softness, sweetness, relief.
For the briefest, most glorious moment, she kissed me back, her lips moving against mine, a small, surprised noise coming from her throat. My hands threaded into her silky hair, holding her still as I tried to devour more of her.
Her arms wrapped around my neck, suffusing me with a sense of belonging. Of home.
My lips traced hers, coaxing her mouth to open. To let me in. She did, and when my tongue stroked hers, electric.
I kissed her deeper, wanting more and more of her. More of this. Heat like I’d never known enveloped me, shooting terrible pleasure through every inch of my body.
I wanted to kiss her everywhere. Taste her everywhere.
But she gasped and pulled back, breaking the kiss.
Her wide green eyes met mine. Her full lips parted as she breathed rapidly.
The cold returned. Shock seared through me, and I released her, surging to my feet. My chest heaved.
What in fates’ name was that?
Fists clenched, I whirled from her and swallowed hard.
I’d never known it was possible to feel like that. To want that.
And oh, how I wanted it.
Guilt and shame surged through me.
I should want only one thing—my end goal. The desires of the darkness that had borne me and fueled me. That threatened to take everything from me. My life. My sanity.
I drew in a breath, trying to pull together the pieces of my ragged soul.
This is unacceptable.
I was Hades, God of the Underworld. Not some sniveling human youth with a desire for the soft touch of a