Soren once read that the March rains were the tears of Hades, who had to separate himself from his beloved Persephone once again for spring to begin. And, fascinated, little Soren stared out the window of his ramshackle caravan, where he lived with his father, as the rain fell heavily. He looked up at the sky, asking Hades if it hurt so much to be separated from his beloved.

And now he understands. He understands Hades and that fierce, aggressive rain. Those feelings he can't contain and that make even the heavens tremble.

But he's not like the god of the underworld, no. Soren is more selfish. He would have sent spring, beautiful flowers, harvests, and absolutely everything to hell if it meant having you by his side. It was written in the stars, in destiny, and even in the fucked-up history of the universe. They were made for each other. They were a couple made in hell, a fleeting but intense storm.

Soren meticulously arranges the sleeves of his tailored suit, and even though years have passed and he has enough money to live in the most luxurious apartment in New York if he wants, he still feels out of place. As if the expensive fabric is laughing at him. As if the grime that covered him as a child hasn't disappeared from his skin even though every night he scratches himself underwater to clean something that's no longer there.

"I know where she is."

Soren's onyx eyes dart toward Xaden, who casually plopped down beside him, a glass of whiskey dangling from his fingers. "Just tell me and stop being so secretive. It doesn't suit you. You're more of a mouthy than a fucking parrot."

Xaden bursts out laughing, and Soren has the urge to punch him in the face. Or maybe tease him about how one of the club's whores tried to bite his dick a few hours ago.

"Your little princess is at that Italian restaurant in Wolf territory," Xaden replies, taking a long pull of his whiskey. "With some guy who seems to have more money than brains. Her new boyfriend, I guess." He gives Soren a small smile, knowing those words will hurt.

Soren's teeth clench so hard he feels like they'll explode. Everything turns red, the blood in his veins pumps harder, faster—more dangerous. An annoying ringing settles in his ears; he can't even hear what Xaden is saying. How dare she?

Yes, they've argued again. She's told him she needs time, like she's told him a thousand times before. But she always returns to his arms. Always. They work out the misunderstandings and bad words between the sheets of his bed, with Soren's lips exploring the curves he already knows but can't get enough of. They can insult each other, they can wish each other dead. But never like this. She has never gone with another guy. And certainly not in Wolf territory.

Perhaps his princess thought that if she had a date in enemy territory, Soren wouldn't dare pursue her. But, oh. How wrong she is.

"Grim's gonna beat the shit out of you if he finds out where you're going," Xaden reminds him as he watches Soren shoot up from the couch like he has a fucking spring up his ass. "And I'm not gonna save your ass if he sends Lux to get *creative* with you."

"I don't give a damn." That's the only response he gets from Soren before he storms out of the club like a soul chased by the devil.

Soren's car engine purrs as he starts driving; but that purr turns into a roar as he accelerates. Rain begins to beat against the windshield, but he doesn't care. He also doesn't care about crossing the city limits, about putting himself in danger in Wolf territory. He's going to find her.

In less than ten minutes, Soren is standing there. In the Italian restaurant that smells of expensive pasta and freshly picked tomatoes. The rain begins to soak his bones, making him shiver. Like when he was a kid and stood outside a bakery staring at the cakes; wanting to buy them but unable to. Unable to satisfy his hunger.

Hades is crying, but Soren isn't going to let her leave. Hell no. They've known each other since they were kids, back when her pigtails barely reached her shoulders. When he was poor and she was an angel with golden tears who gave him cookies during recess.

A small bell jingles as Soren pushes the door open, and the receptionist falls silent when he sees the face of the man who just entered the restaurant. Soren is dripping with water; his expensive shoes must be ruined by now. And there she is. Laughing with another guy. Her eyes sparkling. As if she hadn't been tangled in his arms less than six nights ago.

"Get up." is the first thing Soren says when he plants himself at the table where his girlfriend is. "We're leaving."

He clenches his fists when the other idiot opens his mouth. "Hey man, why don't you just leave us alone...?"

Soren's fist finds his cheek before he can even blink, and he hears the commotion from the other customers around him when the idiot falls to the ground. "Get up," he repeats, looking at her. Only at her.

His golden hair sticks to his forehead, his breath comes in rapid gasps, and his knuckles quickly turn red. He swallows, feeling like that fucking kid again. That poor little bastard who just wants someone in the world to see how good he is. How much he deserves love and the life he's living now.

"I'll drag you out if you don't fucking get up right now."