For the Love of Hades (The Loves of Olympus) Read Online Free

calling.
    She glanced at him. Would he know who she was? Would he know her name?
    His brow furrowed, and then his blue eyes widened. Yes, he did.
    “Persephone? Are you finished yet?” Crysanthe joined in.
    His eyes swept over her slowly, from the fiery red tresses atop her head to the bare toes peeking from beneath the hem of her robes. When his gaze found her again, his lips were pressed flat and his eyes… His gaze was haunted, suffering. Yet something lingered in his dark eyes, calling to her.
    “Come on.” Myrinne was closer. “Your mother will be angry if we’re late again.”
    “Persephone!” Crysanthe yelled, closer now.
    She answered, “I am here,” but she could not pull her gaze from his.
    “We found all on your list,” Myrinne said.
    “Your mother will never know what you were up to,” Crysanthe laughed. “Or where you ventured…”
    They were smiling as they reached her, but fell silent when they saw him. She was faintly aware of the nymphs as they stared, wide-eyed, at this man. They should stare. Had they ever seen such a man before? Even in her limited experience, she thought not.
    “You would do better not to leave your mistress so ill-attended. Demeter would see you punished for such carelessness with her daughter.” His words were sharp, demanding their attention and commanding their acquiescence.
    The nymphs stared at him, their eyes growing round before they quickly bowed.
    “I sent them on their way,” Persephone spoke, surprised by their reaction to this man.
    Stranger still was her own response. What was this inexplicable need to touch him, to ease his temper? She did not deny herself, but moved forward to place her hand on his arm. Her tone was soft, soothing as she assured him, “They’ve done nothing wrong.”
    He was surprisingly warm beneath her palm. She stared at his arm, watching the shifting sinew in his forearm, the black hairs sprinkled across his pale skin… She felt the strangest pulse, a heady, consuming pull, where her flesh met his.
    She glanced at him. Did he feel it, too?
    Her heart thudded loudly in her ears. Had he heard it?
    His gaze fell to her hand upon him. He swallowed, his blue-black eyes peering into hers with fierce intensity. He was displeased. “These are dangerous times, lady. You would be wise to keep your attendants at your side.”
    She nodded, her fingers curling about his arm as her gaze locked with his. “I will.”
    Breathing seemed a challenge.
    His eyes wandered, tracing her brow, her cheek, her mouth, without any hint of his thoughts.
    She could not think. Indeed, very little seemed to exist beyond the strengthening pulse they shared. Such warmth radiated up the length of her arm, spreading into her chest. Surely he felt this? He must.
    His hand fisted, the muscles of his forearm flexing under her touch. He moved quickly, shaking her hand from his arm.
    An ache, new and heavy, filled her chest. Where had it come from? What was happening? She felt off balance, unsteady on her own two feet.
    He inclined his head, eyes flashing briefly, and turned from her. “Go now. I have work to be done.” He paused, whistling once. The youngest hound stood, stared alertly at the man, then joined Persephone and her attendants. “He will see you safely home.”
    She could think of nothing to keep him, though she sought any guise to call him back. She felt the strangest pull, the need to call out to him, but held herself quiet. He walked purposefully, swiftly, to the tree line. Each step took him further away, making her heart thunder and twist.
    “Come on,” Myrinne grabbed her arm and began pulling her from the meadow.
    “How did you come to find him ?” Crysanthe asked, her words whispered.
    “He was doing his duty.” Myrinne kept moving, glancing back over her shoulder with wide, nervous eyes. “He was collecting those that would cross over. Did you not see the meadow, Crysanthe?”
    “He must know who you are,” Crysanthe said, hurrying