Eve
I had fought this. Fought him.
With words sharp as daggers. With glares that could cut through steel. With a wall built so high, I had sworn—sworn—that no one, not even him, could breach it.
But he had.
Not with kindness. Not with pretty promises or whispered reassurances.
He had torn through my defenses with rage and hunger. With the way he stood between me and the things that threatened to devour her whole from the inside. With the way he met my fire with his own, clashing, searing, consuming—until I could no longer tell where the hate ended and where the hunger began.
And now… now I had nothing left to fight with.
No strength to wield against the grief suffocating me. No walls to hold up against the shadows trying to pull me under.
All I had was him.
His heat, pressing against the cold that had settled into my bones. His voice, a blade cutting through the suffocating silence of my despair. His touch, grounding her in a world that had never done anything but take, and take, and take.
My family was enemy and still the only person that stood between them and me was him.
I had spent so long convincing herself that loving him was wrong.
But if this was wrong—if clinging to him, to this, was a sin—then why did it feel like the only thing keeping me alive?
So I let myself fall.
Not into the abyss waiting to swallow me whole.
But into him.
If loving him made me a sinner, then I would bear that sin like I bore my scars—etched into my skin, a testament to all that I had survived.
But... I did not know for just how long I could hold so I let the words spill out of me, however detrimental they would be.
"Hades..."
The name spilled from my lips like a prayer, fragile and desperate, yet it held the weight of a thousand battles fought—most of them against myself.
I didn’t know if I had the strength to hold onto this. To hold onto him.
But gods, I wanted to.
I lifted my gaze, searching his face for something—anything—that would ground me before I slipped further into the abyss.
And there he was.
A storm carved into flesh, his presence all-consuming, his eyes dark with something unspoken, something violent and reverent all at once.
Hades.
The man who had become my shield and my sword. The man I had once sworn to loathe, yet now, standing in front of me, he was the only thing keeping me from disappearing entirely.
I felt his grip tighten on me, his warmth pressing into the cold that had long since settled in my bones.
I pulled away, putting space between us, afraid of his reaction. "I know..." I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to shake away the chill that has returned. "I know this… what I feel… it shouldn’t exist," I whispered, my arms tightening around myself as if I could hold together the pieces that threatened to break apart. "Not in this world. Not in the war we were born into. Not between us."
My breath hitched as the truth unfurled from my lips, raw and trembling.
I lifted my gaze, expecting something—anger, rejection, anything that would make this easier. But instead, I found him—still, silent, watching me.
Hades didn’t speak. Didn’t move.
And that silence—his silence—unraveled something deep inside me.
The weight of it all crashed over me, drowning me in the impossible cruelty of what I had just confessed.
A choked sob left me before I could stop it. My body trembled as the tears came, hot and merciless, slipping down my cheeks in betraying streams.
I wanted to take it back. To swallow the words and pretend this never happened.
Because in the brutal, unforgiving world we lived in, love was not a luxury we could afford.
Love could break kingdoms. Love could start wars.
Love could destroy us.
And yet, despite all of this—despite everything—I had fallen for him anyway.
"I’m sorry," I gasped, my vision blurred as I tried to step back. "I should have never—I should have—"
A sudden rush of movement.
A flash of red—his eyes, burning, alive, furious.
I barely had time to startle before he moved—so fast that my heart lurched, my body locked in place as he closed the distance between us in an instant.
I braced for it. For the worst. For the rage, for the rejection, for the agony of being cast aside like this love meant nothing.
But instead—
His mouth slammed into mine.
A collision. A claim. A devastation.
The air between us ignited as his lips crushed against mine, as if this—this—was the breaking point, the moment he could no longer keep himself from me.
His hands were everywhere—cupping my face, threading into my hair, pulling me closer, deeper, harder—as though he needed to feel every inch of me to believe I was real.
The kiss was not gentle. It was desperation and fury wrapped into one, a battle fought in the space between our lips, in the clash of breath and hunger.
I gasped against his mouth, and he took it, swallowing the sound as his hands tightened against me.
My knees buckled, but he didn’t let me fall.
He wouldn’t let me.
A sharp growl rumbled in his chest as he pressed me flush against him, his body heat and tension and pure, unyielding possession.
I felt the war inside him, the battle between restraint and the raw, untamed need that threatened to consume him whole.
And gods help me, but I wanted to be consumed.
His lips slanted over mine, his grip shifting to tilt my chin, deepen the kiss, steal whatever air was left between us—until the only thing that existed was him.
Hades.
A man I had once called my enemy.
A man who now kissed me like he would die without me.
When he finally pulled back, just an inch, his breath was ragged, his forehead pressing against mine.
"I will never hear you apologize for this again," he whispered, his voice dark, wrecked, unchained.
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