RHEA

Eve

I blinked as it stared at me—through me—my pulse spiking.

A growl snapped me out of my haze of astonishment, but it didn't come from the wolf.

It came from Hades.

I returned fully to my body, to the present, to him.

Hades was breaking.

I could feel it—his body trembling above me, muscles locked tight with strain, breath ragged against my skin. He was losing the fight. Against himself. But this wasn't normal. He wasn't just battling instinct.

He was fighting the monstrous, all-consuming hunger that had gripped him.

His eyes were no longer his own. The red-black hue had fully taken over.

It had returned.

Yet he was still holding on. For me.

His forehead pressed against mine, his hips rolling deep, slow—controlled, but barely. Desperate. His pleasure was a punishment, a plea, a worshipful torment.