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“I know exactly what it is!” he snapped, rising to his feet. “I have lived through it before, and I can protect you from it.”

“I didn’t ask you to protect me from it.”

“I can’t lose you,” he said, planting his hands on the balcony behind her, trapping her against him. “I almost did, do you know that? Because I couldn’t fucking get my mind right to heal you. I have held men and women and children to me as they bled like you bled. I have had my face sprayed with their blood. I have had them beg for their life—a life I could not extend or heal or gift because I cannot fight their fate. But you—you did not beg for life. You were not even desperate for it. You were at peace.”

“Because I was thinking about you,” she seethed, and Hades went cold. “I wasn’t thinking about life or death or anything but how much I loved you, and I wanted to say it, but I couldn’t…”

His throat felt full and his mouth quivered. He drew her against him and buried his head in the crook of her neck, hiding his face as he shook and shed tears. He hated this feeling that racked his body, hated that he had not been able to remain composed for her, but this had been too much. Too great a wound.

He drew comfort from her, and when he was calm, he straightened, still holding her close.

Persephone stared up at him, then pressed a hand to his cheek.

“Will you take me to bed?”

His stomach twisted, and he shifted close, leaning into her hips.

“I will take you here,” he said, and her mouth opened against his, his tongue taking advantage of her own, her body bowing to his hands, ready and willing. He groaned as he pulled away, grazing her bottom lip with his teeth. “And then I will take you on the bed and then in the shower and on the beach. I will take you on every surface of this house and every inch of this island.”

He dragged her by the hips as he returned to the chair, and she dropped the sheet she’d used to cover herself. As she returned to straddling him, he touched her breasts and sucked her nipples into his mouth. He liked the way her breath shallowed, the way her body rocked against him as he touched her. She sought his skin just as hungrily, parting his robes to sweep her hands along his chest and over his stomach, grinding her slick heat over him.

There was a moment when he wondered if he should do this, indulge in her so fully, but she had asked, and feeling her against him, warm and wet, reminded him that she was well.

He smoothed his hands over her ass and let his fingers part her flesh. She was hot and swollen, and she rocked against him, keeping a steady pace as she used him for her own pleasure. He knew she was finding release when her muscles tightened and her thighs squeezed around his, and then she pulled free of him suddenly and reached for his cock, sliding down his length until she was fully sheathed.

Fuck, she is brilliant, he thought as he leaned back to watch her ride him—her breasts bouncing, her body vibrating, her hands reaching behind her to tease his balls. When she grew tired, he took hold of her hips,alternating between helping her grind against him and thrusting into her. Now and then, he rose to kiss her, to let his mouth explore her skin, until he felt Persephone’s body tense around him—every muscle and every limb.

When she came, it shuddered through her so hard it brought him to release.

He held her as she sagged against him, though he felt just as spent.

“Are you tired?” she asked, sitting back.

He wasn’t tired, not in the way she meant. “I have never felt more alive,” he said.

That answer seemed to please her because she kissed him, and when she stopped, she burrowed against him.

“Where are we?” She sounded sleepy and his hold on her tightened.

“We are on the island of Lampri. Our island.”

“Our?”

“I’ve had it, but I rarely come. After I found you in the club, I did not wish to go to the Underworld. I did not wish to be anywhere but alone. So I came here.”

Bringing up the club again shifted the energy between them; it grew heavy with grief and regret. Then she asked the question he had dreaded.

“Do you know if Tyche survived?”

“No,” he answered. “She did not.”

She asked about Sybil, Leuce, and Zofie.

“They are safe.”

“And Hermes?” she asked.

Hades’s response was to carry her to the shower.