He grips her arm and wrenches her back. “I didn’t say you could leave!”
Hades doesn’t see the slap coming until her long nails scratch his skin. His eyes are dark and angry, but he does nothing, doesn’t even cradle his cheek sheepishly. Persephone is furious and she loves him and what has he done. This is impossibly cruel. Is this the man she lies beside in the afterglow, threads fingers with when they walk?
“I can’t look at you. I can’t look at you,” she sobs and buries her face in her hands. He steps closer and, when she doesn’t move away, takes her gently into his arms. She still won’t look up at him, but his arms around her are still a comfort and she hates that it is.
“Don’t do this to me,” he breathes against her hair. “Don’t turn away from me. You’re the only thing I have left.”
A sweet ache curls in her heart at his words, but Persephone does not want it there. She tries to focus on her anger, on the something other that burns fierce and bright in her chest, but she doesn’t want to. She wants him.