New suitors arrived constantly, bearing gifts and honeyed words. Though I remained Hades’s wife, bound by sacred vows, they pursued me regardless. I was young, beautiful, Demeter’s daughter, and my youth made me foolish.
Too late, I realized my old life held no allure. I had already changed in ways I could not undo. The existence I once craved felt hollow, meaningless.
I missed him. Missed the depth of the dark realm. Missed the way he looked at me as though I was his entire world.
So I found a way to send word, slipping a message past my mother’s tight security. A whisper through the barriers she had raised.
And Hades came for me immediately. Within hours, he stood at the gates of Olympus, Death himself demanding his queen.
I held my ground against Mother’s fury. Against Zeus’s threats. Against the assembled gods who insisted I was making a terrible mistake.
I declared that I wanted my life with the King of the Underworld. That I chose his darkness.
That I was going home.
There was no going back after that, and I burned the bridge with no regrets.
But then, Mother and Zeus had plotted their revenge. They recruited the Fates, bribing them to curse us both, binding me to an endless cycle of death and rebirth.
They tore me from Hades for an eon.
Some memories stayed blurred, scarred by the blood curse.
But I was no longer running that same cruel circle. This time, I had broken free. I had stolen my fate threads back and hidden them away.
I wondered if Nero could feel it—the new lightness in him, the absence of that ancient weight that had dragged at both our souls.
He watched from the doorway, his adoration so naked it ached. Beneath it, unbridled lust scorched. His passion for me had never faded, not through an eon of suffering.
Men were fickle. Their love did not survive. But my man was the steadiest force in my existence. The one constant across every lifetime. Despite his brutal reputation, despite the fear his name invoked, he had never wavered.
I smiled and held out my arms in invitation.
He pushed off the doorframe and crossed to me in three strides, sweeping me into his arms. His mouth found mine, kissing me with a searing hunger as he carried me toward the bath.
The kiss tasted of primal male need, of barely restrained emotions. I could feel the fine tremor in his hands, the fear of losing me still coursing beneath his skin.
He set me down gently at the edge of the massive tub. Steam rose, carrying the scent of healing herbs.
Now I understood why he had taken so long. This was no simple bath. It was a ritual.
Moonflower petals floated on the surface, their silver edges catching the candlelight. Essence of nightshade darkened the water to deep violet. Crushed pearl dust made it shimmer. Silver willow bark had been steeped to draw out poison and soothe battered muscles.
I knew every ingredient. Their properties were as familiar as my own heartbeat.
I could grow plants in the Underworld. Make flowers bloom in darkness. Coax life from death itself. That had been my gift to his realm—beauty forged in a place of endings.
Hades was Death—my opposite in every way. Plants withered at his touch, crumbling to ash and dirt.
Yet he had watched me work. Studied how I tended my gardens. Learned which herbs I used for healing, which flowers made me smile, which scents soothed my nightmares.
He had remembered it all. Every ingredient here was exact.
He had kept them stocked through my absence. Through the ages of waiting, searching, grieving. He’d maintained stores of my favorite herbs, just in case I returned.
Just in case this time, I lived.
Warmth swelled in my chest, sharp enough to bring tears. He might be the villain to every other realm, but to me, he was the tenderest love, devoted beyond reason.
