Chapter 32
Elara's POV
Elara hadn't slept well. Every time she closed her eyes, the same image replayed: the deep red of his wound, the way his skin had felt warm beneath her fingertips, and the steady weight of his gaze while she worked.
She turned on her side, groaning into her pillow. Why am I still thinking about this? He was a god. A wound like that meant nothing to him. He had said so himself, hadn't he? And yet—her stomach twisted with unease.
What if he had downplayed it? What if it had been worse than he let on?
"No," she whispered to herself, rolling onto her back. "Stop it. He heals. He's fine. He doesn't need you hovering like some worried fool."
And still, her chest ached with that gnawing sense of worry.
Elara forced herself out of bed, trying to lose herself in her morning routine, but her thoughts refused to obey.
She told herself she would go to the library.
She told herself she would focus on the texts, on her purpose, on anything other than him.
And yet, by the time her footsteps echoed down the corridor, she realized she was not heading toward the library at all.
Her heart skipped. She stopped in her tracks, blinking at the massive carved doors before her. Hades's office.
"Oh, perfect," she muttered under her breath, pressing a hand against her temple. "Brilliant move, Elara. Very wise. This is exactly what you needed—showing up at his door like some lovesick idiot."
She spun on her heel, ready to march back the way she came, but her body betrayed her. Her hand hovered, almost of its own accord, over the dark wood. The faint aura of power behind the door pressed against her senses like a steady heartbeat.
Her nerves tangled into knots. Her breath caught in her throat.
Don't do this.
And yet, her knuckles rapped lightly against the door before she had truly decided.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound echoed far louder than she intended, and she instantly regretted it. She squeezed her eyes shut.
"Stupid," she whispered, biting her lip. "So, so stupid."
But there was no undoing it now.
On the other side of the door, silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. Her pulse thudded in her ears as she waited, every muscle tense.
Would he even answer?