Hades Greek Mythology Tattoo นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Then, I saw him standing by a door to a room, or somewhere. He had taken off his shirt. His upper body appeared bigger. They were tattoos all over his back, his trousers hung low on his waist, dangerously low. I could run my hands through this type of body all day without getting tired. He was receiving a phone call. He was immensely focused. I stood still, waiting for him to finish. His words didn’t make sense at first, until it got to the part where he said: “She doesn’t know a thing. I have it all under control… In the end everything will be mine.” His words made me tremble.

He wore a burgundy velvet jacket with black lapels and a pair of matching black pants that skimmed his muscular physique. Not that I was checking him out—far from it. But Hades had a way of flaunting his body to force the gaze to linger on his assets. I ground my teeth, my nostrils flaring. “What do you want?” “My souls,” he said. “My prisoners. My enemy.” “You’re not going to get it from us,” I snapped. “Get out of here,” Griff snarled. Hades rolled his eyes. “While I enjoy the sight of two merrily mated mongrels, there are matters at play neither of you can begin to comprehend.”

She grabbed it and languidly lifted it up. It was a picture of Hades. He was truly a Greek god with a clean cut and precise features, a well-built body, and inexpressive emerald eyes. This man was dangerously gorgeous. This was the kind of face that every woman would dream of but inexplicably perilous to fall for.