Hades' Cursed Luna - Chapter 120

Chapter 120: Fighting For The Prize
Eve

His grin widened as he stood to his full height, the faintest trace of a grimace disappearing from his expression. “Yes, Red. You won.” He paused, his silver eyes narrowing as they pinned me in place. “But at what cost?”

He took a slow, deliberate step toward me, and I instinctively stepped back, a knot of tension coiling in my stomach. His gaze never wavered, a mix of amusement and something darker lurking beneath the surface.

“I’ll admit,” he began, his voice smooth, dangerously low, “I didn’t think you’d stoop to that. But I suppose that’s what I love about you, Red—just when I think I’ve got you figured out, you surprise me.”

My throat tightened, my pulse quickening under the weight of his words. Love? Did he just say love? I forced myself to focus, to steady my breathing, but the sly curl of his smirk made it nearly impossible.

He tilted his head, his eyes roaming over me, slow and deliberate. “I wonder,” he mused, his voice dropping further, “what else you’re capable of with the right… incentive.”

A shiver raced down my spine, his tone dripping with suggestion. “Don’t push your luck,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended. I needed to keep my composure, to show him I wasn’t fazed by his words—or the way his eyes seemed to burn into me.

“Luck?” he repeated, the word rolling off his tongue like silk. He stopped just a breath away from me, his proximity setting my nerves on edge. “I don’t believe in luck, Red. I believe in potential. And you…” His gaze lingered, his silver eyes glinting with unspoken promise. “… have so much of it. If you’d just let go.”

“Let go?” I echoed, narrowing my eyes at him. “Let go of what?”

He leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. “Control. Fear. That little voice in your head that keeps you predictable.”

Heat flared in my cheeks at the word, my anger bubbling back to the surface. “I’m not predictable.”

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, sending another shiver through me. “Aren’t you?” He raised a hand, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. The touch was light, almost tender, but it carried an undercurrent of power that made my breath hitch. “Prove me wrong, Red. Show me what happens when you stop holding back.”

His challenge hung in the air between us, charged and unspoken. I clenched my fists, torn between the urge to rise to it and the instinct to protect myself. But as his smirk deepened, I realized something: he wasn’t just testing my strength. He was testing me, my resolve, my limits.

And damn it, I wasn’t about to let him win.

“I have seen your strengths and weaknesses, your determination and hesitation,” he said, circling me like a predator stalking its prey. “I know where you excel and where you falter. And now, Red, we build on that. The next stage of your training isn’t about learning how to fight—it’s about learning how to win.”

I followed his movements, turning with him to ensure he was always in my line of sight. His presence was magnetic, his gaze piercing, and the weight of his words settled heavily on my shoulders. This wasn’t just about sparring anymore. It was something deeper, more dangerous.

“Winning isn’t just brute strength or quick reflexes,” he continued, his tone low and deliberate. “It’s about strategy. About knowing your opponent—inside and out. Anticipating their every move before they even think of it. That’s what separates survivors from victims.”

I swallowed hard, his words hitting closer to home than I wanted to admit. “And you think I can do that?”

He stopped, his silver eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. “I know you can,” he said simply, his voice unwavering. “You’ve already proven you’re willing to go to extremes to achieve your goal. But now, I need to see if you’re ready to embrace what it takes to truly win.”

“And what does that mean?” I asked, my voice steady despite the turmoil brewing inside me.

His smirk returned, sharp and predatory. “It means you’re going to learn how to manipulate, how to exploit weaknesses, how to strike where it hurts most. It means shedding whatever illusions you have about honor or fairness. Out there, Red, there’s no room for hesitation or mercy. There’s only survival.”

I felt a chill run through me, but I stood my ground. “So what’s the first step?”

He stepped closer, his gaze softening slightly but losing none of its edge. “The first step is learning to trust yourself. Not me, not anyone else—your instincts, your decisions. Because when the time comes, and it will come, you won’t have anyone to fall back on.”

I nodded slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. “I’m ready.”

His smirk deepened, approval flickering in his eyes. “Good,” he said, stepping back and motioning for me to follow him. “Because the next stage will come with a delectable twist.”

The way his lips tilted up, told me that the so called “twist” would be anything but pleasant. I raised a brow. “Twist?”

“Yes,”

And in the speed of light, he swallowed the space between us. Suddenly, his arm was around my waist, his hand taking my jaw gingerly and raising it. My back was against his muscles chest. His head came down to crook of my neck.

I stilled, my heart beating out side of my chest. My skin …tingled where his breath brushed against it, warm and unsettling. The proximity was intoxicating, and I hated how it made my knees threaten to give out beneath me.

“Your next lesson,” Hades murmured, his voice low and laced with something dark, “will be entertaining…for me.”

His lips hovered just above my neck, his breath ghosting along my skin, sending shivers racing down my spine. “Right now, your instincts are torn,” he continued, his tone almost hypnotic. “Fight me? Run from me? Or…” He let the suggestion hang in the air, unspoken but clear.

I clenched my fists, forcing myself to focus. “Or what?” I snapped, trying to sound defiant, but my voice betrayed a slight tremor.

His chuckle was deep, a rumble I felt against my back. “That, Red, is the question. You tell me. What do you want to do?”

I swallowed hard, my mind racing as his grip around my waist tightened ever so slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to make me acutely aware of how easily he could overpower me. “Get off me,” I hissed, trying to twist away.

But he didn’t budge. Instead, his hand slid from my jaw to rest just beneath my chin, tilting my head slightly to the side. The gesture was both possessive and maddeningly gentle, and it sent another unwanted rush of heat through me.

“You’re tense,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Tension slows you down. Makes you predictable.”

“Stop calling me that,” I ground out, my voice sharper this time, though I couldn’t stop the flush creeping up my neck.

His laughter was soft, almost teasing. “Then stop proving me right.”

I hated how his words wormed their way under my skin, how they set fire to something buried deep inside me. He was testing me again, pushing me, daring me to respond.

“Fine,” I said through gritted teeth, summoning every ounce of defiance I had. I stomped hard on his foot and twisted out of his hold, spinning to face him with a glare.

He stepped back, his silver eyes gleaming with amusement as he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Good,” he said, his smirk returning. “That’s what I’m talking about. Use that fire, Red. Let it drive you. Because the next stage will be truly… something.”

“Stop beating about the bush, Hades.” I snapped but in my voice was a treacherous tremor.

“You are so excited.”

“No,” I deadpanned. “Spill it.”

He crossed his arms, his smirk deepening. “Every week, we will have a challenge,” he said, his tone casual, as if he wasn’t about to turn my life into a nightmare.

I narrowed my eyes. “We?” I repeated, suspicion lacing my voice. “You’re my coach. Shouldn’t this be me doing the challenges and you barking instructions?”

His silver eyes gleamed, a dangerous glint that sent a chill through me. “Where’s the fun in that? No, Red, this will be a two-way street. You’ll face me in each challenge, and whoever wins…” His voice dipped, his smirk taking on a wicked edge. “…gets to punish the loser.”

My breath caught, my stomach twisting at the implications. “Punish?” I echoed, trying to sound unimpressed. “And what exactly does that mean?”

“Whatever the winner wants,” he said smoothly, his gaze locked onto mine. “Think of it as motivation. Push yourself harder, fight smarter, and you won’t have to find out.”

I crossed my arms, glaring at him. “And what if I win? What’s stopping me from punishing you every day for being an insufferable bastard?”

His grin widened, his fangs just visible. “Oh, Red, I’m counting on it. But don’t get ahead of yourself—I plan on winning. I already have the perfect punishment for the first challenge you will lose.”