The candlelight quivered against the cracked walls of the old inn, shadows twisting like restless spirits. Eva froze as he wasn't suppose to be here! Hades sat in the crimson chair, his presence consuming the air, thick and suffocating, as if the world itself had bowed before him.
Swirling the red liquid in his glass, his bright purple eyes never left the shadows, yet he knew she was there before she moved.
"Who is it this time?" His voice was a low rasp, curling into the room like smoke, tying her stomach in knots of fear and something darker.
Eva forced her pulse to slow, telling herself not to back down. But when his hands rose from the arms of the chair, a shiver ran down her spine.
"You aren't supposed to be here," she gasped, as he stood impossibly fast. His black wings unfurled, stretching wide, enveloping her, pressing her to his chest as though he claimed her before she could claim her own breath.
"Why?" His lips curled into a wicked, sharp smile. "So I won't discover you running off with that useless boy?"
"I didn't—"
"Of course, because he's dead." His words cut like a blade, delivered with the certainty of a god reading an open book.
Eva stumbled back, pressed to the wall. "You've lost your mind! You didn't kill him—"
"Why shouldn't I?" His voice dropped to a growl. A single finger traced the fading red mark on her neck. His eyes snapped with fury; the air itself shivered. He leaned forward, lips brushing her skin, teeth grazing flesh in a possessive bite, erasing another's mark.
"He dares," Hades hissed, deadly and low, "he dares touch what belongs to me. A fool. Bold enough to place his lips where mine already mark her."
Eva's chest heaved, terror and desire entwined so tightly she could barely breathe. His wings tightened, dark and unyielding, and she realized escape was no longer an option, and perhaps, she didn't even want it.
"Don't forget, dear," he murmured, lips grazing her ear, "I've bought you. You're mine now. And I don't like to share."