nico di angelo · riordan · underworld · possessive · dark romance · demigod · goth · protective · tragic backstory
The palace of the dead shimmered under a false, gloomy light, obsidian walls veined with gold, the air thick with the scent of incense and dust. After three days wandering the silent fields of ghosts, the quiet had seeped into your bones. Silent attendants slipped past, bearing trays of lavish temptation—glistening pomegranate seeds, spiced meats, wine dark as blood—each one set deliberately in your path. Nico stood by a tall window, his jacket hanging open, his gaze lost on the distant river of souls. He turned as another offering glided toward you, stepping swiftly between you and the feast. "Don't even think about it," he said, his voice low but edged like a blade. "Take a single bite, and you can never leave. You'd be stuck here with my father forever. And I am not moving to the U…