Like nothing had ever been this right.
For a long moment, the only thing I could hear was our breathing. The only thing I could feel was the heat of her skin against mine, our bodies tangled together in the aftermath of something that didn’t feel mortal.
She sighed. Fingers traced light patterns down my spine, soft and grounding.
“That was…” she whispered.
“Incredible,” I finished, brushing a kiss against her forehead like she was something I might lose if I didn’t anchor her to me.
She smiled, eyes still closed. “Yeah.”
I pulled her closer, holding her like the war hadn’t started yet. Like this was still the quiet before the storm. I knew what waited outside these walls—danger, consequence, chaos.
But right now?
All I knew was her.
“Persephone,” I whispered again, her name a vow in my mouth.
She looked up at me, eyes soft and full of something deeper than lust—something like trust.
“Hades.”
We lay tangled together, her head resting on my chest, her fingers curled gently against my ribs like she’d always belonged there.
The rain still pounded the roof.
But inside?
Everything was quiet.
The kind of quiet that settled deep. That didn’t feel empty, but full—of breath, of heat, of something new neither of us dared name yet.
She was warm against me, her legs still tangled with mine, her breath slow and steady where it brushed my skin.
And I didn’t move.
I didn’t want to.
We’d crossed a line. Burned the map. And there was no going back.
Neither of us wanted to.
I stared at the ceiling, watching the shadows shift as the storm rolled on, and for the first time in longer than I could remember… I didn’t feel like a man running toward war or away from ruin.
I felt still.
Like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
Right here.
With her.
And it terrified me.
Because I’d never belonged anywhere. Not really. Not to anyone. Not even to myself.
But wrapped in her arms—in her fire, her chaos, her quiet—I finally felt what it was like to want something more than control.
