“May I?” he asked, releasing her from his grip and holding his hand out for the book.

Wordlessly, she gave it to him and watched as the God of the Dead rounded her chair and leafed through the book. There was something incredibly devilish about the way he looked, a storm of darkness dressed head to toe in black.

“When do you begin training with Hecate?” he asked.

“This week,” she said. “She gave me homework.”

“Hmm.” He was silent, keeping his eyes on the book as he spoke. “I heard you greeted new souls today.”

Persephone straightened, unable to tell if he was irritated with her.

“I was walking with Yuri when I saw them waiting on the bank of the Styx.”

Hades looked up, eyes like firelight.

“You took a soul outside Asphodel?” There was a hint of surprise in his voice.

“It’s Yuri, Hades. Besides, I do not know why you keep them isolated.”

“So they do not cause trouble.”

Persephone giggled, but stopped when she saw the look in Hades’ eyes. He stood between her and the fireplace, ignited like an angel. He really was magnificent with his high cheekbones, well-manicured beard, and full lips. His long hair was pulled into a knot at the back of his head. She liked it that way because she liked taking it down, liked running her fingers through it, liked seizing it when he was inside her.

At that thought, the air became heavier, and she noticed Hades’ chest rose with a sharp inhaled as if he could sense the change in her thoughts. She licked her lips and forced herself to focus on the conversation at hand.

“The souls in Asphodel never cause trouble.”

“You think I am wrong.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement and he didn’t seem at all surprised. Their whole relationship had started because Persephone thought he was wrong.

“I think you do not give yourself enough credit for having changed, and therefore do not give the souls enough credit for recognizing it.”

The god was silent for a long moment. “Why did you greet the souls?”

“Because they were afraid, and I didn’t like it.”

Hades’ mouth twitched. “Some of them should be afraid, Persephone.”

“Those who should, will be, no matter the greeting they have from me.”

Mortals know what led to eternal imprisonment in Tartarus, she thought.

“The Underworld is beautiful, and you care about your people’s existence, Hades. Why should the good fear such a place? Why should they fear you?”

“As it were, they still fear me. You were the one who greeted them.”

“You could greet them with me,” she offered.

Hades smirk remained, and his expression softened. “As much as you find disfavor with the title of queen, you are quick to act as one.”

Persephone froze for a moment, caught between the fear of Hades’ anger and the anxiety of being called queen.

“Does...that displease you?”