by Amelia Wilde
I stifle a groan at how much she wants it—how much her body wants all the filthy things I’m going to do to her. And that admission she was a virgin—fuck. I knew she wasn’t lying the first time she said it, but who doesn’t like to push a little here and there? Make them spill a few more tears? Make them think it’s their very last breath they’re sucking in?
It’s painful, how much I need to use her. I get up from the sofa in the dark and go over to the desk. Brace against it. Undo my pants with a swift jerk. Let her see me now. I’d love to see a brand-new wave of tears spill out of her eyes. Fuck, how she’d hate it if I made her come on my fingers, she’d hate it down to her bones, down to the center of her soul. Persephone has a soul, that much is obvious, and it’s become my mission in life to dirty it up until she can’t see any way to live without me.
I wait as long as I can, precum gathering on the tip of my cock, and then I take it in my fist and pump it hard, hips angled into the wastebasket, straining for the sound of her breath. I’ve taken her. I’ve bound her to me by her own words, a pretty extra on top of the fact that I was going to do it anyway. And yes, fucking yes, this will make things infinitely more complicated for me in the short term. There are certain things I need from Demeter in order to live my life. She can never know about Persephone. She finds out, it all comes tumbling down. But none of those complications do a thing to relieve the unfiltered lust rocketing through my blood.
The release is an anticlimax, empty and base, and as soon as it ends the cycle begins again. Sunrise, sunset. I lean against the desk and catch my breath. Fuck. Fuck. Taking her—that was easy. Making her cry, easier still. But keeping her at arms’ length?
Curses fill my mind, and I fall back against the sofa. Persephone believes I’ll destroy her, and I fucking will—in every possible way that will still let me enjoy her. Only here, in the darkness of my train car, my cock already getting hard again, can I sit in the knowledge that this could be the end of me, too.
In far more ways than one.
9
Persephone
My eyes open on a darkness so complete a scream lurches up in my throat, and I clap my hands over my mouth, holding it back while I get my bearings. I can’t see anything, and this makes the memories from last night even worse. Decker’s slow kicks. The leisurely turn of Hades’ head. His hand between my legs. I scrabble for something to hold onto and my hand meets a pillow.
A pillow. A bed. His bed.
My heart beats hard and sharp like I’ve been running. I made a deal, to save Decker’s life, and I belong to Hades now. I tell it to myself again, and then a third time, but no amount of repetition makes it seem okay.
It is not okay.
It is not okay from every possible angle.
I press my knuckles against my eyes, wiping away the dried salt from last night. My skin is puffy and my face is probably still red. My hair—I don’t have any way to fix the mess it’s in. I smooth my hands over the curls and feel Hades’ hand there too, the ghost of his touch from last night.
Last night or—or another night. How long has it been? How long did he let me sleep? He couldn’t have actually told me to rest, could he have? A man like that wouldn’t care about my beauty sleep. I fumble my hands together and whisper a half-remembered prayer that one of the girls in school used to say. I can’t remember all the words, and I seriously doubt anyone will hear me. If last night taught me anything, it’s that there is probably no God.
There is only Hades.
The door opens, sending me scrambling back on the bed, eyes stinging. The vibration of the train slows, then stops. I blink at the enormous figure in the door. Light streams in around him. I’m a mess, and he looks like he just stepped out of a walk-in closet. His jacket is back on. “Get up.”
“What—where—”
“Sweetheart, I didn’t say ask me questions about our location. I said, get up.”
I tip myself off the side of the bed. My shoes are missing—either I kicked them off in the night or Hades stole them, which seems unlikely. There’s no time to look for them now. Not with him watching me. His eyes are hidden in the shadows but I can still feel where his gaze meets my skin. A strange heat. What happened before I slept taunts me. My cheeks must be the color of my mother’s garnet-hued orchids. Or deeper. I open my mouth. Don’t say anything. Shut it again. Don’t. “But where are we?”
I have a small, wild hope that maybe we’re in the city, and Luther Hades has decided to go back on our arrangement. He could let me off the train right now, even if he let me off alone, and I could proceed with the plan Decker came up with. Find somewhere to stay. Keep running. It’s the smallest thing, like a newly hatched bird, and I know I’m being ridiculous by indulging it.
The slightest inhale of breath, which I recognize as a laugh.
“Where do you think we are?” He folds his arms over his chest, blocking more of the light. “Do you think I’ve brought you back home to run back into your mother’s arms? Come here.”
This time, I don’t hesitate. Hesitation only ends with me crawling across the floor, and I don’t want to cry again this soon after waking up. I stand one step away from him and he reaches down. With a rough grip he forces my face upward, fingers tight around my chin, so tight I almost gasp. He was playing with me last night. He was...he was being relatively gentle.
“You’re. Never. Going. Home.” Luther Hades doesn’t bother to raise his voice. He lets the words cut me like the small knives that they are. “Not ever. Our agreement will never expire, not until you take your very last breath.”
“Or until you take it from me.” I shouldn’t say it, I know I shouldn’t say it, but it slips out on a wave of homesickness and regret.
A moment’s pause, and then—
“That’s right.” His grip doesn’t loosen but I think I heard a note of tenderness in his voice. Tenderness. Either that, or I’m still half-asleep. “Let’s go.”
He turns and walks away without looking back, and I want to throw myself into the darkest corner of the room and stay there until he forgets about me. Obviously, that’s not an option—not with Conor stalking across the middle of the room. It’s dangerous to be near Hades. It’s more dangerous to be left in empty space near his dog. And I know he won’t forget. He won’t leave me behind. He made that clear last night. Very, very clear.
And as much as I hate him—and I do hate him, for what he did to Decker and for the fact that he’s exactly as evil as my mother always said he was—there is a part of me that wants to see what happens next. A part of me that won’t sit down and shut up now that I finally have a chance to do something other than roam my mother’s fields. We’re headed toward a logical conclusion, and god, that logical conclusion is terrifying. My heart thrums in my throat, just thinking of the waiting. But my mind recoils. If he throws you down outside this train car and has his way with you, you’ll be wishing you could go back in time to when it was all shrouded in mist, part of the future.
I catch up as he steps down off the car, straining to hear Conor’s footfalls behind me. The dog’s nose brushes the back of my dress and my legs tense, ready to run. But running is the last thing you should do in front of a wild animal. He’s not a wild animal, not really, but the back of my neck bristles like he is.
The platform outside is not just a platform. I get an impression of high ceilings and dark marble, a cavernous, echoing space. And then I get an impression of something else—something that needs a second look. Hades holds his hand out. The movement doesn’t make any sense. What is he doing? What does he want me to do?
Oh.
He’s offering me his hand. Conor bumps me to the side to get out, sending me into the doorframe.
Hades glares.
“Is it that you want; to fall onto the tracks? I can promise you, it wouldn’t be a pleasant escape.” His voice is so light and so cutting, all at once.
“No, I don’t.” I put my hand in his.
The touch is elect
ric, bordering on a firestorm. For all he touched me last night, the only thing I had under the palms of my hands were Hades’ clothes. His hand is so big, and mine so small, like putting my hand into an alligator’s cage. Utterly reckless and dangerous, if the alligator is in a bad mood. Hades is far more dangerous than any of the animals I’ve read about or seen outside the fence, except for his own dog. Is that what this is? A warning? Or my own body tricking me into thinking that a monster might not be so bad after all?
He tugs, and I step down. He doesn’t seem to care that I’m not wearing shoes, or else he hasn’t noticed. All around us, black-clothed men step into place in a loose circle. They’ve left enough space to make it seem like we’re walking alone, but...we’re not.
In fact, we’re very far from alone. I’ve only ever seen the train station in the city, which was an antique design built before all the skyscrapers went up. At least that’s what one of the placards on the wall said. This station doesn’t have any placards. That doesn’t seem to matter. It’s busy. Nobody spares a second glance for his dog, which must mean they’re used to it. I don’t know how they could get used to a dog that size—one that’s obviously a killing machine. I want to keep my eye on him, but the people demand my attention. So many people.
What did I expect, when he threw me over his shoulder? An empty room at the center of the mountain? This isn’t it. Far overhead, the ceiling moves smoothly over us in a high arc. The rock is a matte black with streaks of gold painted onto it. No—not painted. In an instant, it clicks into place—he didn’t hire artists to come hang from the rock, carefully imitating seams of precious metals. They are seams of precious metals. He’s carved his train station out of his own riches.
“Close those lips, or I’ll be forced to put something there,” he says lightly, but I hear the promise in his tone.
“I—” What’s the use in apologizing? There is none. I think—and I could be wrong—I think he likes it when I’m a little insolent. Probably because that’ll give him an excuse to punish me later. A full-body shiver rocks me from head to toe. God, who has thoughts like this? Not me. I can’t let myself sink into that kind of depravity no matter what happens to me here. If I do, I’ll never be the same. And if I’m going to hold out any hope of escape, I have to keep myself intact. As much as I can manage. “This is huge.”
People pour out onto the platform from doorways gashed into the walls. They keep their heads low. Their eyes flicker in our direction but the looks are glancing, temporary—these people head straight for the train, quick as they can. No wonder. I only wish I could ask them where they’re going, and why it looks so simple for them to leave.
As if he’s read my mind, Hades laughs. “They’re not leaving, so wipe that precious expression off your face. They stay on the mountain, just like you will.”
The trap of his hand closes over mine. “You keep people here?”
Hades looks at me like he’s never seen a person quite as dense. “Who the hell do you think works in the mines, or staffs my home? Fucking commuters?”
“Just like me,” I echo, the terrible realization dawning. “They all made a deal with you?”
His eyes narrow. “Did you think you were special?”
Maybe I did. Maybe some sound he made last night made me think that his cruelty is hiding something else. But I must have imagined it. The way he’s looking at me now, eyes harder than diamonds—no. I’m like everyone else in this station. I’m his property, too. My heart aches for them, and for me. I was desperate enough to throw myself on his mercy. They must’ve been, too. It’s a cold comfort.
“You’re nobody,” he says simply, and even though I know it, even though I’ve been bracing myself all along, tears prick the corners of my eyes. “You’re nobody now, and when I’m done with you, you’ll still be nobody.”
Then he lifts my hand to his lips and brushes them across my knuckles.
He drops it before I have a chance to react.
“Keep up with me. I don’t have all day.”
10
Persephone
The mountain is much farther from my mother’s fields than I thought. Nothing drives the point home harder than walking up the wide stone steps to a set of massive double doors that look like they’ve been carved from the same rock as the train station. They swing open as Hades and I approach, Conor right behind him, and it’s only after a few seconds that I see the men holding them ajar. They both keep their eyes on the ground as we pass through and enter what can only be described as a capital city.
That’s what it looks like, with Roman architecture and a soaring rotunda up at the top. A series of hallways branches out from the round center of the room. They’re so long I can’t see the ends from here. This palace isn’t a mansion, this is a small city. Now it makes more sense why my mother would have been so paranoid—a man who could own something like this could own anything else he wanted, including the hands of an assassin or a policeman to look the other way. There are no rules for him—his house makes that crystal clear.
Something is not right about the space. Most places I’ve seen like this, in school and in pictures, are carved from...white rock, I guess. The rock shot through with gold isn’t what’s wrong about it, however. It’s something else. Something is different. The shadows shift on Hades’ face. I try to blink away the difference—maybe it’s my eyes—but nothing changes.
People come and go here too, but fewer of them, and they’re dressed in dark suits and maids’ uniforms. All of them, without exception, subtly change their paths to get out of his way as we cross. I can’t help craning my neck to look around as he moves through, not hurrying exactly but not giving me any time to look. There are carvings up in the dome of the rotunda, and windows. I can see white, fluffy clouds through the windows but the tint is off. Tinted windows in a rotunda? Who would ever want that? Lights ring the room, but the character of it doesn’t measure up to natural light. It’s not until this moment that I miss my mother’s fields with a vengeance. I’d do anything for the sun on my face.
Hades stalks across the rotunda, footsteps echoing, to a bank of elevators. Conor keeps up, completely focused on following Hades. He doesn’t pause to sniff the floor or get a pat from anyone else. He stays right by his feet like it’s his job.
Maybe it is.
There’s one button inset into a panel outside the elevator, and Hades presses it. The doors slide open soundlessly. Every set of doors reminds me of just how far I am from home, and safety. I don’t want to go in, I don’t, but I remember the way he bent me over his desk and I know he’d do worse right here and right now, no matter the audience. Maybe he’d like the audience. My core goes hot with embarrassment, and suddenly I can’t get into the elevator fast enough. I break away and press myself against the back wall of the elevator, panting. My own reflection pants back at me. I have a moment to register that the flowers in my hair have...have died. Shriveled up, dried out into husks of themselves on my head. That should be impossible. They were new, from just yesterday.
But then Hades steps in. Conor follows. The doors close behind them. They’re taking up all of the available space.
Hades narrows his eyes.
“What are you doing?”
It occurs to me that I’m gripping the handrail—I’m surprised there is a handrail in a place like this, where everyone is nobody—so tightly my knuckles have lost all their color. The elevator is far smaller than the train car, far closer, filled to the very top with my own fear.
“I’m being good. I’m staying out of the way.”
“Being good.” A smile plays over his face, beautiful and deadly. “What are you trying to avoid?”
Everything. “Getting bit by your dog.”
He drops a hand to Conor’s head. “If I wanted that to happen, it would have happened already. He’s a very well-trained dog. He would never bite without my express permission. Anything else?”
“There’s—there’s nothing.”
; “You’re not concerned about being punished?”
Maybe he wants me to let go, to stand closer, but I can’t move. “You wouldn’t punish me for trying to be good.”
“My, my. I didn’t think we’d come quite so far yet. Let’s go back out so I can give you what you really want, you filthy thing.”
“No, please.” I hold on to the railing for dear life. “Don’t do that, not now, not on the first day.”
Hades saunters over. “So when you told me you would do anything to save your boyfriend, you meant anything so long as you’re nice to me. You didn’t really mean anything.”
“I meant it.” My heart has gone wild, uncontrollable.
“You’d submit to a punishment to prove it, then.”
How could I do that? How could anyone do that? How could anyone just sit there and take it, no matter what they agreed? And why, why, does part of me already know the answer?
“Yes.”
“You would not. Who are you trying to fool, Persephone?” His eyes have gone deeper than the center of me. They’ve gone all the way through. He can see everything.
“I have no other choice.” My mouth has gone dry. “I would—I would try to do it.”
“It’s not about trying, it’s about submitting.” His hand is around my throat faster than lightning, too fast for me to raise my arms. “If you won’t give me what you promised, then your word is useless. You are useless.” He’s not squeezing hard, not yet. Just enough to let me know he has absolute control. And my body—my body responds. My nipples tighten, and I press my ass against the wall of the elevator. Hades looks down into my eyes, watching my shame, and then he curses under his breath. “I can’t fucking believe it.” He almost sounds wondering. “Demeter’s daughter is a virgin who wants a man to punish her.”
I have never, never thought those words, even in the privacy of my own mind, even late at night when I know my mother is so soundly asleep that she’d never catch me thinking about it. But the truth—oh, god, the worst possible truth—is that I’m a liar. I’m a liar, and I have thought about a scenario like that, with a man’s big hand and a woman bent over his knee, ass raised to—to accept it. There were books at school that I was forbidden to read, and I read them, but I never allowed myself to think of the words again. Only the images, and only because I knew it would never happen to me.