Damon POV
Just as I was clawing back control—fighting the burn inside me, the way my body still throbbed with the ghost of her skin beneath mine—the doors creaked open.
I didn't lift my head. Not at first.
But the shift in the air told me everything.
Power.
Old. Feminine. Arcane.
Witch.
Fuck.
I gritted my teeth, growled low under my breath.
I thought those damn hags had left.
But no.
I heard the soft shuffle of robes, the pattering of feet, and then—
"Master. Master."
Three voices.
In perfect unison.
The three witches circled me like vultures drawn to a dying god. Their bodies knelt in flawless synchrony, heads bowed low like disciples at an altar.
"I can sense him," the one in the front whispered, her voice reverent, nearly trembling with awe. "He is close. Very close."
Her words wrapped around me like smoke.
He.
They meant Hades.
The dark force inside me—the god still coiled in my chest like a beast in a cage, licking its lips for release.
