Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 18893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 94(@200wpm)___ 76(@250wpm)___ 63(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 94(@200wpm)___ 76(@250wpm)___ 63(@300wpm)
My heart pounds as I make my way, my boots sinking into the soft ground, conscious of the eyes of judgement on me. It chills me to my core.
For thousands of lifetimes I’ve held Ivy in my arms, and for the first time it feels as though they’ll take her away from me…again. In all black, dark eyes peer through the shadow of the cape that drapes over the guard’s head. I’ve never seen his face. But I know the guard that waits for Lord Hades’ men.
Screams of terror are vaguely heard in the distance. This is the marketplace of souls. Where mortals are tested, where the weight of their morality is judged, possibly, for all eternity.
I start, clearing my tight throat, “I am of the army of the dead and—”
“You may pass,” he says beneath his breath, barely sparing a glance.
My shoulders rise with a desperate need to move. To obey before he changes his mind.
“My thanks to Lord Hades,” I state, bowing my head and rushing toward my chambers with her in my arms. Her head lulls from side to side and I know she’ll wake soon.
The locking of the stone door with the iron key is harsh and loud. The “thunk” echoes in my chambers and that’s what wakes her.
She gasps as I lay her down in a high-ceilinged room with dark walls and thick pillars, everything expertly crafted to keep the space and balance and give a sense of awe to anyone who enters. Ivy seems both awed and terrified as reality dawns on her.
The beauty of her serene expression at peace in my arms vanishes and with her widened darting eyes comes the pain of her not knowing.
Ivy glances around, taking it in.
Her new home. Our new home.
Her body is stiff as if a prey realizing it’s been caught in a trap. Her beautiful gaze lands on the furnishings, each piece dark and solid, yet welcoming. The side tables and rugs are a mix of antiques fit for a palace, the richness in the curved wood and polished shine that never gets dull. Artwork painted by the most skilled hands in the underworld hangs on the walls. Every piece I picked with her in mind. Little memories of her in each piece. It was Hades’ version of hell I was destined to live. He said it was a gift. A compromise that was fair and just. And for so long I’ve lived without the one thing that gives me peace.
When he offered me this chance to have her, there was no reality in which I would refuse his deal.
Her eyes skip over the pieces. I can tell she wants to linger on some of them, but she doesn’t. Ivy’s only glancing at the elegance surrounding her. Even now, she frantically searches for a way out.
There is only one door. And with a flick of my wrist, the magic of this realm takes the key away.
As she scrambles for an exit, on shaky limbs, I can only look at her.
Her full lips. Her doe eyes. The fear in her expression, but also a desire that’s so close to the surface I can’t ignore it.
I don’t care if this is meant to be a punishment or a test. I’m too consumed with Ivy’s closeness.
I stalk toward her, slowly, and she freezes, her gaze focuses on me. Her eyes widen. She understands that for now she’s my prey, and I’m going to have her.
I’m impatient for her. More impatient than Ivy can ever know. I want her curves under my hands. Her warmth pressed against me. I crave her and for her to remember. I wish to tilt her face to mine so I can capture her mouth. I even desire her defiance. That spark she has reminds me of everything we’ll have again.
Ivy backs up one more step and her back hits the windowsill. She grasps for it without turning, her hands finding the edge, and lets out a small sound at her discovery that there’s nowhere else to run.
The iron press around my heart is turned tighter. The fucking pain I feel staring at her with such fear in her eyes is unbearable. Nearly so. Not nearly what it was when they told me she would be lost to me forever.
She has to look, then, turning her head to see out large windows behind her. Ivy must know from the inside of the tower that this place is like a castle. Not unlike the old city I tore her from. Not all of the underworld is this. The view outside should only confirm it.
“There’s nowhere else,” I tell her with a touch of a sympathetic tone, in case she’s still thinking there’s a means of escape she hasn’t found yet. “You might find joy in the view I offer here.” She does not know, but a lifetime ago—a few of them—we lived in Edinburgh. They gifted me this home because of that. A blessing and a curse.