Chapter One #2
Mal exhaled sharply, narrowing her eyes at Hades. ‘You didn't have to be so rude.’
Hades rubbed his eyes wearily, as though suddenly aged by the burden he bore.
‘Answer me this,’ she said, voice cool and unwavering. ‘Did you create me solely for the purpose of forging a god-killer?’
Silence fell over the chamber, thick and suffocating. It stretched on and on, until Mal half-wondered whether he would deign to reply.
At last, he looked at her, truly looked, before crossing to the table and sinking into a chair. He seized a goblet, drinking deeply, and then stared into the hollow of it as though the swirling depths might yield the truth he could not speak aloud.
‘Would you believe me if I said no?’ he asked, voice rough with something almost real.
‘It would be difficult,’ Mal said, her heart heavier than before.
Hades took another languid sip from his goblet, and for a fleeting moment, his eyes softened.
‘Each time your mother is reborn,’ he said quietly, ‘there is some foolish part of me that dares to hope, hope that in this lifetime, she might choose me.’
The very air seemed to tighten, thick with a longing so profound it stole the breath from Mal's lungs. This was no ordinary sorrow, no mortal ache, but something far older, far deeper, something born of eternity itself.
‘You resemble her greatly, Melinoe,’ he murmured, setting the goblet back upon the table with a soft clink.
He offered her a brief, solemn nod before rising to his feet.
‘I hope you find the witch you seek.’ Without another word, Hades turned and strode from the hall, his departure as silent as a closing tomb.
And Mal was left behind, staring after him, wondering at the god who ruled the dead, a god whose heart, it seemed, beat stronger and more fiercely than many among the living.
…
Mal lay stretched across her bed, in a room fashioned to mirror the one she had left behind in the mortal world.
The bed was vast enough to hold four bodies with ease, its blackened wooden headboard carved with wyverns soaring in frozen flight across an endless sky.
It reminded her achingly of the bed Ash had once crafted for her in his own land, hoping to ease the weight of her sorrow.
Had he done it because he loved her? Or had it been the curse, twisting his heart to feign affection that was never truly his?
The door creaked open behind her, but she did not stir, her gaze fixed on the fire dancing in the hearth.
Blue flames sparked and shimmered, casting a surreal warmth through the chamber.
She supposed true cold and warmth were nothing but illusions here, mere echoes of mortal sensation.
Still, she found comfort in watching the flames, remembering the hearths of home.
Thanatos sauntered into the room without ceremony, one hand buried in his pocket, the other rubbing his jaw, a smirk playing across his lips. Without a word, he dropped down beside her, sprawling across the bed as if he belonged there.
Mal did not turn to face him; she would not give him the satisfaction.
‘What do you want?’ she asked, her voice flat.
‘Nothing,’ he replied easily. ‘You’re sad, and I thought you shouldn’t be left alone with it.’
‘I’m not sad.’
‘Yes, you are,’ he said, with a low chuckle that rumbled through the silence. ‘But we can pretend otherwise, if that’s what you’d prefer.’
‘Don’t you have something more important to attend to?’
‘No,’ he said simply.
She could feel it, the weight of his stare, those black, fathomless eyes drilling into her. With a huff, Mal rolled her eyes and turned to look at him. Words rose to her lips—sharp, angry words—but they died in her throat. Instead, she sighed and let her gaze drift upwards to the ceiling.
It wasn’t his fault.
Her curse was not his doing, not really.
‘You know it’s the curse that makes you believe you care for me, don’t you?’ she said instead, her voice cool and brittle.
Thanatos laughed, a rich, mocking sound. ‘Is that truly what you think, Melinoe?’
‘I don’t think it. I know it.’
‘Is that what you tell yourself about your feelings for Ash Acheron?’
At the sound of Ash’s name, her heart twisted painfully. She didn’t want to doubt and yet, buried deep within her, the questions gnawed.
‘I love him,’ she whispered.
‘I know,’ Thanatos said with a sigh. ‘But you don’t truly know him.’
Mal sat up sharply, twisting around to glare down at him, her purple eyes flashing with fury.
‘I know him,’ she insisted.
Thanatos merely smirked, utterly unruffled by her rage, as if her anger were a minor amusement to him.
‘Do you?’ he murmured, his black eyes sliding towards her, glinting with challenge. ‘What is it you truly know of him?’
‘He is kind,’ she snapped.
‘I’m sure he is.’
‘And brave.’
His smirk grew sharper, cutting deep. ‘It all sounds rather general, don’t you think? You could be describing anyone.’
Mal snarled low in her throat. ‘I don’t have to explain myself to you.’
‘You are right,’ he said, his voice lowering, his gaze fastening onto hers with the force of a tide. ‘So why are you?’
Mal sucked in a sharp breath, her chest constricting at the weight of his words. She tore herself away from him as if proximity alone might set her aflame, might unravel the ground beneath her feet. His scent clung to her senses, suffocating.
‘Get out!’ she snarled.
But Thanatos did not move. Instead, he chuckled.
A deep, wicked sound that fuelled her rage.
Without thinking, Mal surged forward, slamming her forearm against his throat, her knee driving into his stomach, pinning him firmly to the bed.
Her fangs hovered a hair’s breadth from his skin, her voice a low and lethal growl.
‘Let’s make one thing clear, Thanatos,’ she said.
‘I do not care what you think. I do not care about you in the slightest. Ash Acheron is my husband. And you, you will never be anything to me. Understand this: if you ever, ever, try to take him from me, I do not care that you are death incarnate, there will be no land, no realm where you can hide from me.’
She had expected many things. Mockery perhaps. But not this.
In Thanatos’ dark eyes, she glimpsed a tumultuous storm of emotions: sadness, pride... and the unmistakable spark of desire.
His hand slid against her bare leg, the touch so startling, so intimate, that a gasp escaped her lips before she could stop it, her chest tightening with the betrayal of her own body.
By the time she realised her mistake, it was too late.
In one fluid, merciless movement, Thanatos flipped her onto her back, trapping her beneath him. Her wrists were pinned above her head, his body a solid weight against hers. His smile widened with unmistakable delight as he looked down at her, victorious.
‘I rather like this little game,’ he whispered, his mouth drifting dangerously close to hers.
‘You needn't fret so much about your husband, Melinoe.’ He chuckled, low and dark, as his lips brushed towards her ear.
Her entire body tensed at the unbearable closeness, every nerve drawn taut.
‘You ought to be more careful around me.’ The breath of his words fanned her skin.
‘I’m not afraid of you,’ she said, forcing her voice to remain steady.
Thanatos' black eyes glittered with amusement. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘I wouldn't want you to be afraid.’ His mouth grazed her ear, the briefest, lightest kiss yet it set her alight, a fierce heat rippling through her veins.
‘What do you want?’ she demanded, breathless despite herself.
‘A silly question, woman,’ he said, laughing. A rough, wicked sound that reverberated through his chest. ‘It will be most enjoyable, changing your mind.’
‘My mind?’ she frowned, uncertain. ‘About what?’
Thanatos only chuckled, his smile lingering as he finally released her and moved away, retreating into the shadows as if he had never touched her at all.
‘About me,’ he said.