He felt her frustration, obviously not understanding how he viewed her progress toward harnessing her magic. He wrapped his fingers around her wrists like cuffs, watching as chills pebbled up her arms.
“You use your magic all the time—when you are angry, when you are aroused…”
She had no trouble calling vines to ensnare him for the purpose of their pleasure, and at the thought, he let his lips trail across her shoulder, a light touch that made her shiver.
“That is not magic,” she breathed.
“Then what is magic?” he asked.
“Magic is…” Her voice faded away as she considered what to say, finally answering. “Control.”
Her response made him chuckle. Magic, in its most basic form, was wild.
“Magic is not controlled. It is passionate, expressive. It reacts to emotions, no matter your level of expertise.”
Just like her, he thought as he moved his hands to hold hers.
“Close your eyes,” he instructed, mouth near her ear once more. She obeyed without hesitation. He had to wonder if she did so to escape the sweet tension rising between them. “Tell me what you feel.”
“I feel…warm.”
He knew that, and his body was responding, tightening.
“Focus on it,” he whispered, voice low and heavy, betraying his arousal.
“Where does it start?”
It grew worse when she answered, “Low. In my stomach.”
He wanted to press his hand there, to tease her until she drew her legs up and granted him access to her heat. Instead, his hands tightened on hers.
“Feed it,” he said.
He could feel her magic surge, an electricity that crackled between them.
It called to him, the perfect light to his darkness. It sought balance just as he did.
“Now, where are you warm?”
“Everywhere.”
“Imagine all that warmth in your hands. Imagine it glowing. Imagine it so bright you can barely look at it.”
It was how he saw her—a moon, a star, a sun, a sky at the center of his universe.
“Now imagine the light has dimmed, and in the shadow, you see the life you have created.” His lips touched the shell of her ear as he stared at the energy she’d summoned and used to paint a glimmering likeness of the periwinkle and phlox she’d wanted to grow.
“Open your eyes, Persephone.”
Her lashes fluttered as she followed his instruction, inhaling a breath, and as Hades directed her hands to touch the ground, her magic solidified and the flowers became real—living and breathing. He released her hands then but did not put distance between them, watching as she touched one of the petals, smoothing it between her thumb and forefinger.
“Magic is balance,” he said. “A little control, a little passion. It is the way of the world.”
She turned her head only an inch so that her cheek was against his and her body began to tense. His hands were flat against the ground, but he kept his knees up, cradling her. He wondered what she would do. Would she tear away from him? Put distance between them once more?
Instead, she turned and came up to her knees to face him. Her hands went to his shoulders and she stared at him with glassy eyes, but before she could speak, he plowed ahead, needing to speak.
“I love you. I should have reminded you when I brought you here and each day since. Please forgive me.”
“I forgive you, but only if you’ll forgive me. I was angry about Leuce but angrier that you left me that evening to go to her, and I feel so…ridiculous.
I know your reasons and I know you didn’t want to leave me that evening, but I can’t help how I feel about it. When I think about it, I feel… hurt.”
Her admission made his chest hurt and his throat feel tight.
“It pains me to know I hurt you. What can I do?”
“I…don’t know. I suppose what I have done must make up for it. I told you I wouldn’t write about Apollo—I promised you—and then broke that promise.”
All Hades could do was shake his head. “We do not make up for hurt with hurt, Persephone. That is a god’s game. We are lovers.”
“Then how do we make up for hurt?” she asked.
“With time,” he said. “If we can be comfortable being angry with each other for a little while.”
Tears slid down her face, and she whispered, “I don’t want to be angry with you.”
“Nor I with you.” He brushed her tears away. “But it doesn’t change feelings, and it doesn’t mean we can’t care for each other while we heal.”