TEARS RAINED FROM THE SUNSET PINES AND CRIES WEPT IN THE BLOODSTAINED AIR.

Aphrodite's fooleries had wrecked my undead kingdom.

Had it been another, I would already have uprooted their bones and painted them a special shade of red. But she was an Olympian goddess, and such women were... something else entirely.

Shades howled like shipwrecked sirens in the corners, mourning in screeches that were nails scraping against rust. Hundreds of waiting souls whimpered and cowered in helpless fear at the click of my boots on the polished granite floors. Even the diamonds on the banisters and velvets on the wall bloomed into goosebumps as they kissed the feet of the Lord of the Dead.

"Thanatos!"

In the space of a breath, he appeared out of air, black eyes twinkling brighter than the unfeeling heart pumping in his chest.

"My Lord," he bowed, unfazed by the terror of death. His clever eyes descended on the female in my arms, mouth opening to speak just as my harsh voice cut him brusquely.

"What the fuck is the meaning of this? Why aren't these souls judged and sorted into their afterlives yet?"

"Lady Aphrodite has been killing thousands until you concede to her request... to marry Persephone. The souls drift in faster than we can judge them. Rhadamanthys is getting restless, my Lord. He nearly threw a fit because one of the souls stepped in before the previous one was judged."

A string of curses loosed from my livid tongue faster than bolts off keenly sharp arrows. A dry smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Get Triptolemos to assist the judges. And find Hecate and tell her to come to my chambers at once," I ordered, impatience colouring my voice.

"Yes, my Lord, if I may ask why you are holding this unconscious lady in your arms-"

"-you may not, Thanatos. You'll have a better chance seducing my horses. Go," I darkly scowled at his outright shocked expression. Turning on my heel, I took long strides to my chambers, hardly paying heed to the subjects dropping to their unliving knees out of respect.

The young woman had dropped like a withered wildflower at my very touch on the banks of the Cyane. My arms swiftly gathered her, cutting the fall. But then there was this wild instinct to get her to safety, away from that traitorous scoundrel who called himself my nephew. So I took a gamble and dragged her across Poseidon's watery kingdom to the land of death beneath it.

It payed off.

But then we entered the Underworld.

And that was when she completely passed out. That, I had been prepared for.

But what I wasn't prepared for - was how glorious she really was.

If a mortal might have beheld her, he would have died on the spot.

She was draped over my arms, her soft body caving into my hard one. Her knees hung over one of my elbows, and the crook of her neck rested in the other. A pale chiton the colour of fresh lilac clung to her figure, the fabric thin and nearly sheer. Then I realised that I was touching her skin.

It was a soft caramel, fair and silky, smooth with undertones of delectably wheatish dusk. Her nose was lightly dusted with freckles. Her face seemed so impossibly perfect that I had feared it unreal, but the constellation of freckles across her skin was proof that she, indeed, was real.

The young woman's locks were a shade of the richest mahogany, sometimes shining like newly minted copper in the dim light. Hair that I wanted to wrap my fists around, to tug it to the side and run my fingers down her neck.

My eyes continued further to observe her face, the face I knew would haunt my dreams.

And her eyes.

I resisted the urge to shake her, to rouse her from my arms. Even as the devil in me contemplated doing so, I made the urge pass with much difficulty, instead concentrating on the door of my chambers as an attendant quickly opened it, sensing my vexed anger.

As gently as possible, my arms lowered her onto the gold edged sheets of black satin on the master bed, settling her weary, frail body in the confines of the plush cushions. Her sensual neck stretched out when her head lolled slightly in her sleep. It invited me, sang to me like prey to predator.

Hardly breathing, I dipped my head to her.

She smelled like springtime.

Even the slightest whiff was more heady and intense than a potent wine, she was more fragrant than vanilla candles, dew drops and cherry blossoms. It made my heart pound madly, making it gallop faster than my wild stallions.

My fingers itched to wrap themselves around her throat and pin it against the wall, to take all the sweet time slowly tugging that chiton off her, and watch her eyes roll back in pleasure as I rocked her core.

Suppressing those feelings was harder than swallowing an inferno down my parched throat.

She had unnerved even the mighty Lord of the Dead.

Even beasts shied from him, and yet here she was, merely a touch, a whiff, a taste of her and I knew I would have fallen to my immortal knees for her.

As if in response, her cherry lips slightly twitched, and the crimson fires in them ignited sweltering flames of ardour in me. The bonfire raged, refusing to leave, like perfume that stayed on my mind despite all the lovers lost on the way.

I heard the door open and close in rapt silence.

And then the unbelieving voice of my sister, Hecate, rasped in the darkness:

"You better not tell me that's Persephone sleeping on your bed, Hades."