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)
Now I am at his mercy, and the thought enrages me.
It is him who stared back at me in the dark waters. It is Hades who crept into my dreams. I know now without a doubt.
I only wish it enraged me more. I wish there wasn’t so much shameful interest. So much want for this man. Perhaps it is yet another spell he’s cast against me.
I do not trust it. I do not trust him at all.
My face heats, even in the cold of the room, and I look down at my hands. The magic chains flicker around my wrists.
If I tug at them, they will eventually tug back, keeping me here.
If I rise from the bed, I have to move slowly and carefully across the room, in order for the chains not to react.
Our conversation rings in my ears, sending more blood rushing to my cheeks.
I will help you.
In exchange for what?
If you submit.
Never. I will never submit.
I was proud of myself for how brave I sounded. I was proud of myself for the fight that rose in me.
But now, in the privacy of the room, with my face flushing and my body hot…
Doubt grows in me like the cold in the room. As much as I want to tell myself that Hades feels nothing—that he’s cold and heartless and mean—I saw something else.
I saw fire in Hades’s eyes. I saw heat and passion and perhaps even a little amusement. Anger rises within me. How dare he. But the flicker of rage is only that. A flicker.
Shame trickles over my skin. I hide my face in my hands, wishing I could hide from myself.
But there’s nobody else here. I am alone, and a captive, and getting colder by the second. I’m lost in the dark. Lost in this room. A plaything for a God who thinks of me as his property. He thinks of me as someone to steal, like a flower plucked from the gardens of Olympus.
Even worse, he was right. My power is weak. I have nowhere to run in this realm.
And still, I crave that heat I saw in his eyes. I want to blame it on the cold, but it’s not only that my nipples have peaked and my teeth are beginning to chatter. It’s also because his presence was exhilarating. Exciting. I have thought so much about my waning powers lately that I would hardly let myself consider the dreams I had of Hades and the power I felt in those dreams.
I had some power, too. He did not look at me with cold, blank eyes. He leaned close enough for me to see that I was affecting him. That he desires…
Why me, with my weak powers? Surely a God like Hades would want a more ruthless queen.
The flush on my skin deepens at the memory of his statement.
You are to be my queen.
I can never admit how seductive those words sounded when Hades said them, as if it was fated. My heart pounds. My mouth waters. If I was his queen, I would also be his equal. He would not rule over me. We could rule this realm together.
It could all be lies. Simply a pawn in his game.
The spell comes back to me. I must have spoken it wrong. I must’ve ruined what should have been my saving grace.
This was not the kind of power I meant. I did not mean the kind of power that comes from a man who keeps me chained. I did not mean the kind of power that comes from judgement and death. I meant the kind of power that comes from life. From new flowers and a full harvest. From the love of the people I’m meant to protect.
The one thing I know of the Underworld, is that no new life can grow. Raising my hand, I attempt a flower. A single lonely flower to grow between the crack of obsidian in the corner of the room. There is no nourishment, no soil. No possibility for growth. Nothing moves, not within and not without.
I feel nothing. As if my powers do not even exist.
A quiet voice murmurs in the back of my mind—is it not power to be the only light in the dark? Do you dare to question the will of the Gods, and the will of fate?
My throat tightens to the extent that I fear I cannot breathe. I do not know how long it’s been since Hades left me here. Hours at least if not the full day. I stand tall and keep my pace slow until I’ve reached a table near the windows. A glass pitcher of water rests on it. With my throat aching, I allow my fingertips to glide down the etched side of it. I pick it up and hurl it across the room, the anger brewing inside of me like I’ve never felt before splashing water onto the dark floor.