(Apollo)
Apollo re-formed in the outer corridor of his palace with a violent crack of air, stumbling one half-step before he caught himself on the glowing obsidian wall. Smoke curled off his shoulders as if he’d brought the heat of his own fury with him. His body throbbed with the lingering pulse of release, but there was no satisfaction. None. Only hunger sharpened to a blade’s edge. The air heaved around him, hot and metallic, as if Hell itself had to readjust around the violence of his return.
He pressed both palms flat against the stone. It burned his skin, but he didn’t pull back. He deserved the burn. He’d crossed a line. He knew it. He’d known it even as he was doing it. He should have stayed away from her. He should have fled to the lower pits, the only part of Hell loud enough t
