Blood drained from my system at his words, and I whipped around, my eyes wide with a dread so chilling it one upped the cold on the outside. "No..." I shook my head. "No, you can't." "You have been a pain in the arse." Clink.The tears built up inside me once again. "I have taught you enough lessons, but you never learn, do you?" "I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to do it..." I trailed, feeling my cheeks dampen. Taking a step towards me, he loomed closer to my height. His index finger traced along the skin under my eye, collecting a single drop of tear, and he eyed it. "This crocodile tears you and your father shed-" his eyes found mines back, and he flicked the teardrop back on my face, making me wince, "means nothing to me." I shook my head, my sobs turning into hiccups now. The mere thought of staying in this oubliette made something snap within my heart. Maybe a nerve or the heart itself. He straightened back up and circled me. "You think you can do whatever you want. Ruin som
Hades's POV~ Darkness; a prime part of me if not the whole. I functioned better in its cloak, almost like the devil feeding off of its sinister energy. It took me under its wing the day I became an orphan, promising me the agonies of my enemies in return. I heeded, and now I ruled it. It never disappointed me either, rather welcomed me with an open arm. That's how I felt when I entered my favorite part of the penitentiary. The smell of blood filled my nostrils, and I sucked it in like a sniff of drug. The smell of my enemy's blood. There is a difference in the smell of the blood regarding its holder. Some smelled sweet and pure while the others acrid and acerbic. It's true when they say your blood rots with the amount of corruption you feed your soul with. Rogues; they had the foulest of blood, so putrefied it stung the lungs when sucked in, poisoned the flesh. Yet they were my favorite type. It was the type belonging to my enemies. Stopping in front of a body on the cobbled
Gisella's POV~Bare feet. A dark hallway. The feeling of being watched. I gasped for air as I frantically whirled around looking for an exit. Thinking of a protector who could save me. I opened my mouth to call for him and instead of my father's name all that came out was, "Hades!" No. No, I didn't wanna call for him. If anything, I was running from him. He was the biggest threat to me, and my papa's existence. He was the one hunting for our blood. Yet, why was I calling for him? Then I felt it, a presence as eerie and bone-chilling as the dead of night behind me. I stilled, my breathing following suit. On curled toes, I pivoted around slowly. Two red eyes stared back. They were approaching me. My senses told me to run, but my feet seemed to glue to the ground. I couldn't move, I couldn't scream. It launched at me. My eyes shot open, and I jumped up to a sitting position, heaving like I had been running for hours. My frantic gaze steered around, taking in my surroundings. I
I was running again, the world gliding past. The trees were a blur, the ground a fast-paced reel. We were jumping over fallen branches, tackling bushes and crossing river streams. No time to spare a moment and look back or fuss over the thorns splitting through our skin. It had been an hour or two I supposed. Maybe more, maybe less. My lungs were burning, and my legs felt painfully numb. Every time I thought about stopping, I could picture those angry silver orbs, and it only fueled my pace. So many thoughts swirled in my head; some sanguine, some adverse. So many feelings bloated my chest; some overwhelming, some nerve-racking. I was going to see my papa finally after so long. I wanted to ask him where he had been all this time. How he had been. Why he committed such a sinful crime like murdering two souls who had a little bundle of joy to take care of.He had a reason that I knew for sure, but I wanted to know how severe the reason had been for him to stoop this low. Then there
I jerked upright to a sitting position, breathing in pants. Looking around and taking in the bright spring morning, a shaky yet relived exhale escaped me. It was all a dream. A bad dream. Fairy tale didn't exist. Hades was normal. Yeah... I convinced myself. Yet there was a part deep within that refused to swallow those words of cajole. It coaxed me, persistent to make me believe. Yet I shook my head. "It's not real," I told myself. "It can't be. See my necklace is still here..." My hand went to my neck, groping for the crystal and came back empty-handed. My breathing shallowed again. Jumping out of the bed, I ran to the mirror, glancing at my injury in the head. It was newly bandaged. Then I glanced at my clothes. They were changed as well. My heart started beating like drums. I dashed to the washroom and looked into the laundry basket. The dress I had been wearing before was torn from the shoulder."Oh God..." I gasped, holding onto the wall beside as the events from yest
Hades' POV~The ring groaned under my weight as I leaned against a post in the corner. The crowd cheered, yelled and whistled from behind the control barricades while the ref called for someone gutted enough to face me. Human fighters steered clear of me. Not because they knew my identity but because I had knocked out several dozens of them in the very first round. Werewolves, however, did so because they knew better than to cross me. They knew clashing with me would land them into a unnecessary bloodshed on a fair day let alone when I was pissed. And I was goddamn apoplectic today. I already tore down three training halls, dismantled fifty punching bags and sent my half-breed manager at Vilkas Corp. to the ER. Underground fight club was my ultimate choice. Nothing beat the pleasure of releasing aggression on raw flesh and self-healing bones, and I had enough rushing through my veins like rough vesicular lava ready to overflow and massacre the whole world down to ashes. Specific
Gisella's POV~I shot up to a sitting position, my body as hot as the sun, and tingles dancing all over. I was breathing madly. I thought I heard Hades, felt him close. He was... -My hand went up to my neck, feeling a spot sore- kissing me? The heck? It must have been a wild dream. Though there was a small, very small part in me that felt disappointed over waking up. My body yearned to feel more. And I hated it. The next time he saw me he wasn't gonna kiss me, he was going to kill me for stealing his birth book and leaking confidential information to God knows who. And I was gonna ask him about my father even if it got me killed. Since he was the beast from the night of our accident, he must know what happened with my father. What he did to him. For now... I felt my eyelids drooping like two magnets attracting each other with a force. Laying back down, I lost myself back into the darkness. In the morning, when my eyes opened again, it was half past nine. I wondered why no one w
A scream slipped my lips, and I turned in my heels in an attempt to run for my life. But strong fingers gripped around my wrist, and I saw the room spin before I clashed flat against his hard chest, looking right into his intoxicating silvers. They were cold as usual, but now there danced a glint of peccable amusement in them. "Where do you think you're going, pet? Don't want your answers anymore?" My breathing was coming out in little gasps as I tried to squirm under his hold. "I-I only want to know what you did to my papa." I licked my lips preparing for the next words threatening to spill out of my tongue unwanted. "Did you... k-kill him?" He watched me, his intense gaze doing things to my senses, but his silence was driving me to the edge, promising to push me over and stop the pounding beats of my heart forever. Fear crawled its way up my spine. His lips parted, and I took a sharp inhale in preparation for the worst possible scenerio. But then he closed them back, a corner l