Her hands were still fisted in his clothes, knuckles pale as the fabric crumpled beneath her grip. She had not realized how tightly she was holding him until her lungs began to burn. Breath came unevenly, shallow and unsteady, as if her body had forgotten the simple rhythm of inhaling and exhaling. Hades noticed immediately. He always noticed. He did not move away at first; instead, he allowed her a moment to steady herself, his gaze fixed on her flushed face, on the way her lashes trembled as she tried to gather composure.
When her breathing eased just slightly, he lifted his hand and gently hooked a finger beneath her chin, tilting her face to the side. The movement was deliberate, controlled.
"You should stop thinking," he murmured, his lips hovering close to her cheek, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin.
Before she could respond, he leaned in and bit softly at her cheek, enough to startle her but not enough to hurt.
