Chapter One
She walked away from the snug, stone cottage nestled in the valley. With each step, the weather grew colder. The leaves around her changed from soft greens to vibrant golds, burgundies and oranges, flaming brightly against the painfully blue sky. The sky faded as the dwelling became a tiny dot on the horizon. The blue, that once hurt to look at directly, darkened to a pewter gray as the leaves drifted from the trees, becoming dry and brittle before they even touched the ground.
Her mother was in fine form today. The more she raged, the more quickly the land died.
Persephone sighed. It didn’t change anything. The woman could throw as many tantrums as she liked, but Persephone had had enough. She loved her mother, of course, but she’d been held hostage to the woman’s unfulfilled dreams for too long. Just because Demeter chose to live a miserable, bitter existence didn’t mean she needed to trap her only child within it.
Persephone drew her cloak more tightly around her shoulders as she continued to push forward. The overly sweet, sickly scent of rotting apples filled the air, clinging to everything around her. She wouldn’t be surprised if the sheep, looking for shelter from the buffeting winds, reeked of the decaying fruit.
Dark storm clouds roiled overhead, throwing needle-like raindrops to the earth. Icy wetness seeped through the thin wool wrapping her body, and she shivered beneath the increasingly heavy weight. She could put a stop to this. If she returned home, all would be forgiven as if it had never happened. In fact, her mother would pretend it never had happened then light and warmth would return to the land. But Persephone was tired of being a captive in her own home. She wanted more than to tend the gardens and fruit trees. Her mother might be content to cut herself off from physical contact, but Persephone wasn’t.
She wanted things. Things she couldn’t even name. Dark things. Things that made her body ache with needs she couldn’t describe, let alone explain. Needs that kept her awake at night and distracted during the day. Needs that twisted her dreams into writhing, pulse-pounding visions of equal parts torment and ecstasy. Needs that became more pronounced every time she saw him. Needs that made her cross from the land of the living and into the dead.
* * * *
“Does your mother know you’re here?”
Persephone shrugged. “Does it really matter to you?”
A slight grin curved his firm lips as he watched her creep nearer. He pushed away from the pillar he’d leaned against. “Not particularly.”
Long, midnight hair spilled over his muscular shoulders, falling to the middle of his back as he stalked toward her, his movements predatory. He circled her almost warily as if she might run from him. Her heart was in her throat, but she was rooted to the spot, watching the firelight play off the shifting muscles beneath his skin. She lifted her hand as he drew nearer but just as quickly dropped it to her side and clutched her skirt.
Turning away from him and the nearly hypnotic pull he had on her, she looked around the chamber she’d been brought to. Thick, yellow candles stood in wrought-iron stands around a huge bed in the back of the room. The flickering flames glinted off silver goblets and bowls on a nearby table and paintings graced the cavern walls.
Her mother had lied again. What a surprise.
There were no bodies writhing in pits of lava. No poor souls chained to the walls and being beaten. No pain, no crying, no blood, no torment, no wailing—well, there was wailing of a sort. Low, sensual cries echoed off the stone walls and caused the secret places within her to clench and ache.
His dark eyes brightened as he watched her, almost as if he sensed her response.
“Why are you here, Persephone?” His low voice rumbled through her, settling deep within her womb.
She took a shuddery breath, feigning bravery she was far from feeling. “I want
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