25. Persephone

Chapter 25

Persephone

A t first, I didn't know what startled me awake. But then I heard the harsh groan come from Hades and turned my head to see him supine, a frown furrowed across his darkly handsome face.

"Hades?" I whispered his name and shifted my body so I was facing him now.

I was about to reach over and gently wake him, when he suddenly shouted out harshly. I snatched my hand back on instinct, mindful he was clearly lost in a nightmare.

After a second, he relaxed once more, and I breathed out slowly. I didn't know if it was a good idea to wake him and to pull him from the nightmare he was currently trapped in.

But when he started murmuring again, his face looking as if he were in pain, I pushed myself up slightly. I braced my hands on the mattress, supporting my upper body off the bed as I stared down at him.

The sheet was pooled around his waist and his tattooed, cut torso was on display. The sliver of moonlight that pierced through the window washed the room in a blue glow, as if it couldn't help itself from reaching him.

He groaned in his sleep, the furrow between his eyes deepening, his hands gripping the sheets.

"Hades?" I whispered softly and went to touch him on the chest, his skin damp from sweat. And then he was shooting up in bed, a harsh sound leaving his chest as he turned his head and looked at me.

I snatched my hand back, now frozen in place as he stared into my eyes. But I felt like he wasn't really looking at me . He was looking through me.

"Hades? It's me. Are you okay? Hades, wake up," I said softly and reached out, cupping the side of his cheek, the scruff having grown overnight. Faster than I anticipated, he growled low, like a feral animal, and reached out to wrap his hand around my neck.

Hades pushed me back on the bed and used his much bigger body to keep me pinned on the mattress. I made a startled sound—as much as I could with his fingers tight around my neck. I clawed at him, trying to pry them away, trying to suck in some much-needed oxygen.

I grew dizzy. I couldn't breathe. And then I brought my hand hard across his face, slapping him with so much force, and with every ounce of strength I had, his head whipped to the side.

He blinked rapidly, his vision clearing right before he took a shuddering breath. And then he glanced down and into my eyes. His gaze slid down to where he was gripping my throat. A look of horror crossed his face as he ripped his body away from mine so suddenly he nearly tumbled off the bed.

Hades stood and moved several feet away from where I still lay on the bed. His chest was pumping so rapidly, and he kept clenching and relaxing his hands. I didn't dare say anything, just rubbed my throat. I swallowed, the feeling raw, my focus never leaving him.

I let him be for long moments, watching him work through whatever he had just experienced. He stayed silent, but brooding, and then he started pacing, completely naked, his hard body broken up by the shadows and the small sliver of moonlight. I couldn't help but think about how beautiful he was.

"I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm sorry, sweetheart." He exhaled and rubbed his hand over the back of his head as he walked over to the window and pulled the curtain aside. I could see the French doors and the small balcony right beyond them. The moon was full tonight, big and round, and glowing brightly as he stared up at it.

Finally, I licked my lips and said, "What were you dreaming about?" Whatever it was, it had to have been terrifying, suffocating him. It had such a tight grip on him he hadn't even realized what he was doing to me.

I didn't think he'd ever answer. But as he leaned his shoulder against the window, staring out at the grounds, I knew he was taking this moment for himself. I could see the wheels in his mind turning, even if he refused to meet my gaze.

I wrapped myself with the blanket and just waited, feeling the sheets move against my bare skin, hearing his soft breathing across the room.

"My father was a bastard," he finally said. He stood there naked, the shadows of moonlight caressing his skin.

He looked like one of those Greek statues chiseled out of marble. All hard lines and severe planes. He was absolutely beautiful.

A fallen angel. The very devil himself.

"He started beating me when I was five years old."

I sucked in a sharp breath, my gaze immediately going to his back. I couldn't quite see the scars because of the thick shadows playing intimately around him, but I knew they were there.

"Hate and pain were my companions as a child."

I could see his jaw work, feel the anger pour from him.

"I learned from an early age the only person I could trust or rely on was myself. But even I couldn't stop myself from taking pain. It's like I absorbed that shit, needed it to survive because it was the only thing I'd ever known in life."

Hades ran a hand over his jaw, his bicep flexing. But still he didn't stare at me. He looked out the window as if he were lost in his thoughts.

"It didn't take long for Zachariah to beat me, too."

For a moment, I couldn't compute what he said.

My father used to beat him?

Out of all the things I'd imagined about why they hated each other, that hadn't been one of them.

"So I covered each one of those scars with my own. Dark slashes, designs, and scenes of how I felt on the inside, now projected on the outside."

"I don't understand," I whispered, more to myself than to him. I was shaking my head, even though he wasn't looking at me. "I don't believe my father would be a monster." I denied it because how could that be true?

At my silence, he turned and looked at me, a sardonic smile curving his full lips.

"The man who was your father isn't the man I knew. He wasn't soft or gentle. He wasn't a brother. Zachariah was cold, hard, and with the help of our father, they beat me until the only thing I knew was pain." He gripped his neck, his biceps flexing. "I let them think I was nothing, that I could be nothing. But I harbored all that anger and hatred deep inside of me until I rose from the ashes."

He faced me then, holding out his arms, the muscles flexing, all that unrestrained masculine power on display.

"You want to know the type of man your father and grandfather were? Let me tell you a story, Bunny."