Chapter 30
Elara's POV
Elara shut the door to her chamber with a quiet thud and pressed her back against it, her chest rising and falling too quickly.
She closed her eyes, willing her heart to slow, but the image burned into her mind refused to leave—Hades, leaning back against the pillows, his shirt discarded, the shadows of firelight tracing the lines of his chest and shoulders.
She groaned softly, burying her face in her hands. Gods, what is wrong with me?
She had touched him, felt the heat of his skin beneath her fingers as she cleaned the wound, and instead of thinking clearly—like someone rational—her thoughts had tangled into knots. Every stolen glance had betrayed her. Every accidental brush of her hand had set her on fire.
Elara crossed the room in a rush, pacing like a trapped bird. "He's Hades," she whispered to herself. "Lord of the Underworld. Not someone to get flustered over like some silly girl."
And yet...
Her steps slowed. She remembered the way he had looked at her—not as a god surveying his dominion, but as a man watching her. The intensity of his gaze had undone her in ways she couldn't name. He had seen her, truly seen her, and instead of recoiling from it... she had wanted more.
That thought made her sink into the chair by her desk, clutching at the edge as if it might steady her. "This is dangerous," she muttered. "So, so dangerous."
And not just because he was who he was.
Because she had begun to care. Against her will, against her better judgment—her heart had shifted. The worry she'd felt seeing him bleed had been sharp, genuine, and terrifying.
She pressed her forehead to her knees, trying to push the thought away. But deep down, she knew the truth.
No matter how much she denied it, Hades was no longer just the ruler of this realm in her eyes. He was the man who had let her tend to his wound, who had teased her gently, who had tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear like it mattered.
And the more she thought of him, the harder it became to breathe.
Elara forced herself to her bed, crawling beneath the covers as if she could hide from her own thoughts. She turned onto her side, staring into the dark, restless.
You're in over your head, she told herself. And you don't even know what he wants from you.
Still... as her eyes finally grew heavy, her last waking thought was not of fear.
It was of the way his voice had softened when he'd said her name.