Page 34 of Curse the Flame

So… turns out, I got way too excited for nothing. Home, as the dark-haired, dark-eyed, sexy stranger called it doesn’t mean my condo. It does mean that, with a wave of his hand, he opens a portal that looks like a big patch of dark, thick, black smoke, and, gripping my hand lightly, tugs me inside of it to his home.

The freaking Underworld.

What do you think of when you hear that? The Underworld? Now, I’m not sure what the rest of it looks like since his particular portal thing brought us right into his honest-to-God throne room—or, as Persephone provided, the megaron—but it’s exactly what I expected.

It’s dark. Everything is made of stone, with silver accents. Fire is everywhere. Despite the amount of, like, torches and stuff that illuminate the dark room, it’s cold. Really cold. I’m shivering in my summer clothes, and my poor feet are super chilly.

One good thing about standing on a stone floor instead of being outside? At least I stopped creating flowers with every step. Though, if I’m telling the truth, I kind of miss them.

Sir—because he might be Cerberus, but to me, he’s Sir—came back with us. I finally understand what happened. For whatever reason, he lured me through the mirror, had me chase him all through the woods, all with the intent to bring me to that river with the whirlpool that doubled as an entrance to the Underworld.

Only I went and got myself taken by a Roman soldier, and while Sir did actually go to get help, he came back with⁠—

With—

Nope. Not going there.

Not yet.

And ‘for whatever reason’… silly Willow. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what that reason is.

…I waited eighty years for you…

I didn’t know he was already reborn! At least, of the two of us, Persephone is somewhat delighted to be here. And look at what he’s done with the place. I remember telling him it needed more light the last time I was reincarnated, and I think he really brightened the megaron up. Go on. Take a seat on your throne. I want to see if it’s as comfortable as I remember.

I couldn’t. Just because there are very obviously two thrones in the room that he brought me to, that doesn’t mean I’m going to plop down in one. Sure, I’m tired. I’m exhausted. I’m also hungry and nervous and trying my best to stop staring at the man who is attuned to my every move.

So I ignore Persephone, and thinking that I’m too busy eye-banging her man, she settles down to watch the show.

I’m sure that Daphne would think I’ve totally lost it if I told her I was hearing voices—well, no, not voices, just her—but there’s something kind of comforting about having Persephone as company.

And, yeah. I’ve lost it. Totally and completely lost it.

Ah, well. It could always be worse. I could be a Roman soldier’s new wife right about now instead of being led by the elbow up a wide flight of stony steps. We go up three floors, and when he bows his head, tells me this is Persephone’s room and to make myself comfortable until dinner is served, I’m so taken aback that he knows about the goddess inside of me that I just say “okie dokie” and let myself inside.

Okie. Dokie.

To the most stunning yet imposing man I’ve ever met in my life who just might be the king of the dead.

It’s a good thing that I’m in the Underworld because you can just go ahead and kill me now for that one.

It doesn’t help that, when I walk into the room, I’m stunned by how instantly I feel put at ease. There are tapestries everywhere, and wall coverings embroidered with nearly every flower that sprouted behind me since I’ve been in this world. The bedding is a soft green color, like spring, and though I first coughed when I breathed in the fire and brimstone smell in the megaron thing, this space smells sweet if a little musty.

Right. Because Persephone hasn’t been here in a while. At least twenty-eight years, and if the stranger who saved me can be trusted, it’s at least eighty…

CHAPTER 9

MINT AND POMEGRANATE

WILLOW

Okay. Here we go.

Let’s say I am Persephone reborn, and with all the evidence pointing to that being the case, I’m not arguing with her. Not after we arrived down here and, in an instant, the sweet puppy that started this whole mess suddenly ballooned into a three-headed monster that would’ve made me piss myself if I didn’t instinctively recognize it as Sir.

Cerberus. Jeez. No wonder that witch I met snickered a bit when she heard my polite name for the puppy. I thought he was abandoned and in need of someone who cared about him.

I never guessed he was somehow bringing me to… to…