by Amelia Wilde
The moment goes on and on, stretching out into eternity.
Hades is being awful.
And the longer it goes on, the weaker my knees get. A strange warmth arcs across my chest, twisting itself up with an ache that feels like wanting. The drop of shame melds with a fluttering anticipation until it’s hard to tell one sickness from another. This can’t be happening.
He strokes one finger over my most sensitive, secret place. My head falls back and a sound escapes me, a sound so sultry I don’t even recognize my own voice.
Hades rewards this by letting go and grabbing one of my hips with another light slap.
“You are a fucking liar,” he murmurs in my ear, the heat of his body covering my back. “You’re such a wide-eyed, innocent little liar.” One of his hands comes up to grip my jaw, pulling the gag even tighter. “I’d say I would train it out of you, but that would be such a waste.” His lips brush my cheek, which is wet with my tears. He braces my head against his chest, or somewhere near his shoulder, I don’t know—all I know is that I’m still upright, and it’s a miracle.
Then his other hand traces a path to the front of me, circling each nipple with the sharp edge of his nail. I can’t stop the sounds any more than I could let go of the post. This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong. The chant goes around in circles in my mind until it’s a meaningless song.
His hand moves downward.
Inch by inch by inch.
He circles my belly button.
He goes lower.
I can’t breathe.
I’m doing nothing but breathing, sucking in air through the fabric between my teeth. The sound is harsh compared to Hades’ even breathing.
His hand stops moving.
He’s inches away from my clit. It throbs just from the proximity, painful and wanting and bad, it’s bad. It’s so bad. The prickling sense of being in trouble runs over my skin like a cascade of hot water, dropped from above by a woman in a dark uniform. I wish he would touch me. Please, please touch me. Bring an end to this torturous anticipation. The waiting is the worst thing by far. My knuckles tighten on the bedpost.
He doesn’t move his hand.
He’s so close, the buttons of his jacket brushing against my spine, but he keeps his fingers splayed low on my belly.
Why?
He waits.
Hades is the king of waiting, that’s what he is. He pretends he has no patience, but he has enough to torture me. What does he want? What do I have to do to get him to touch me, to finish this? I am already arched backward, hips thrust out toward the bedpost, body bent for him. But I push them out another inch further.
“It’s terrible, what I’m doing to do.” That voice in my ear is enough to make my knees give out, but I don’t let it. “Do you remember, Persephone? I promised I’d make you beg.”
But I can’t beg. I can’t say anything, not with this gag in my mouth. The whimpering sound I make next embarrasses me more than everything that’s come before it.
“Please. Of course you can beg. You’ve done it just now. Only that’s not enough for me to give you what you want. It’s not enough for me to give you anything you want.” His lips brush against the side of my neck—the shadow of a kiss. “I could decide to give you something you want. It wouldn’t go against our agreement.”
Another sound. I can’t stop it. And the heat and want have grown so powerful that my mind clouds, hiding the sharp mortification of this moment behind something dirty and hot. No, I can’t do this. I can’t give into him. It’s very, very bad, and it’s very wrong.
It’s not up to me now. It’s not my rational mind that moves my hips again, rolling them forward. I can’t move far. I can’t move much. But it’s enough. I do it again, and again. It’s obscene. I’m fucking the air, with his hand on me and his gag in my mouth and my name on his papers. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever done.
He slips two fingers down between my legs, down into the wetness that’s already waiting for him, and pulls them back up to circle my clit. I’m nothing now, an animal, a bundle of nerves that don’t know what to do with themselves. The noise that comes out of me is barely human and if anyone ever heard it, it would be the end of me. But Hades hears it, and his hand goes still.
“No,” I cry into the gag, but it’s muffled and distorted.
“If you want more, you’ll have to get it yourself.” He sounds completely detached. “You’ll have to admit that you want it. You’ll have to prove that you want this.”
And god help me, I do.
I work my hips up into his hand, legs spread wide, dripping down my own thighs. Sweat beads on my forehead. I can’t let go of the post. I can’t let him let go of me.
I’m almost there, on the brink of something obliterating, when he takes his hand away and steps back.
I howl into the gag, sagging against the bedpost.
Hades leans down over me.
“Almost, but not quite.” He reaches forward and wipes his hand against my back, then presses the ghost of a kiss to my shoulder. “I almost believed you, liar.” His footsteps retreat toward the door. A snap of his fingers, and Conor goes, too. “Oh—” Every cell in my being bends to him, calling him to come back across the room. “Not Genie’s best work. But like I said—you were a difficult case.”
15
Persephone
Hades leaves the room.
I hear his footsteps retreating in the hall, each one softer than the last, and hold tighter to the bedpost. Surely, surely, he’s coming back. Surely he wouldn’t leave me like this. I’m nearly at death’s door, only it was the most pleasant death I could have imagined. Even thinking about his touch sends new sensations zinging between my legs. I’m so focused on it that time goes by without me marking it. I couldn’t have kept track if I tried, but I’m not trying, I’m busy imagining his fingers where they were and trying to get there on force of fantasy alone.
So when the footsteps come down the hall, I’m too far gone to notice that I should be doing something other than clinging to a bedpost with my dress hiked up to my shoulders, rolled around itself, and a gag in my mouth. Like rearranging my clothes—anything. But I’m not. I’m still frustrated and overheated and lost to myself.
Where is he? Why would he do this to me? What do I have to do, run naked through the hallways to get his attention? Do I even want his attention? I’m used to dreaming of empty fields, without a single person looking at me, and now—him?
The footsteps get closer.
They’re too light and too soft to be his.
But why would he leave, in the middle of that? He’s a terrible man, even more terrible than I thought
The footsteps can’t be his because they’re so light and measured.
The footsteps can’t be his.
The footsteps arrive at the doorway at the same time all the disarrayed puzzle pieces of my thoughts fit themselves together. I let go of the bedpost with a shriek and leap to the left. There’s nothing to the left to hide me. The door opens, and the air moves over my skin. Dress first. Dress first. Oh my god, I can’t get it down.
“Miss Persephone?”
It’s definitely not him, this woman with a soft, even voice, and I burst into flame and crumble into a burnt-up husk. When the flame recedes I’m unfortunately left in my own body. Why won’t the dress come untwisted? How much worse could this possibly get? Maybe she hasn’t seen me. Maybe she’ll just leave.
“Let me help you with that.”
I blink at the bed, too frozen to turn around. Her footsteps come across the plush carpeted behind me. Every step is amplified in my newly perished state. Then a pair of gentle hands untwists the dress and tugs it back into place. She, whoever she is, smooths it down at the hem with a touch that’s somehow professional in its intimacy. Next comes the gag. He tied a tight knot, no doubt to leave me in this exact situation. Frustrated tears wend their way down my cheeks. When is this going to stop? I was never a crier before. It was useless in the
face of my mother.
It’s not useless to Hades. He likes it.
Which makes him far worse than my mother.
Then again...
The gag comes loose and I turn around before I lose my scrap of nerve. The woman who helped me wears a long black skirt and a black vest over a white dress shirt—one of the maid’s uniforms I saw on the way in. She has eyes the color of cocoa and hair a few shades lighter. The maid folds the fabric that made up the gag as delicately as she might fold something precious and delicate. It’s not a precious item of clothing, I see now. It’s one of Hades’ ties, from around his neck. She presses it into one of her pockets—out of sight, out of mind—and looks at me with a smile that reveals nothing. A knot at the center of my collarbone untwists. Her expression is far softer than Genie’s, and less afraid.
“Good morning.” She extends a hand to me and we shake, like I’m not standing here in a dress that could be lingerie and she didn’t just help me hide my naked ass. “My name is Lillian. I’ll be your personal assistant.” She wrinkles her nose. “I think that has a nicer ring to it than maid. Though some of the people around here don’t think so.”
I drop my hands back in front of me. “You already know my name, I think.”
She nods slowly. “I do. But I don’t know anything else about you. Not much information was provided when I was reassigned. Come this way, and tell me what you like to drink with your breakfast. Tea? Coffee?” Lillian drops her voice. “I’m sure I could sneak you a mimosa once every so often.”
Reassigned from where? How many other household staff does Hades have, and where do they work? Who are they working for? Does he have other women here? The questions explode like fireworks at the front of my mind across a dark backdrop of jealousy. I let them fizzle out without saying anything.
A...mimosa?
Is she joking?
“Anything but herbal tea.” If I have to keep drinking herbal tea, then I’d rather close my eyes and depart from the world. My mother didn’t believe in caffeine. Rising at dawn, yes. Caffeine, no. Fresh morning air—that’s the thing I’ll miss. The dew beneath my feet. The soft calls of birds. None of that is available here. “I’ve had coffee a few times, and I liked it.”
She’s still wearing a small, sly grin, as if the two of us are close friends and she doesn’t work for the man who... owns me. He as good as owns me. Lillian doesn’t go far. She leads me across the room toward a hallway that’s narrower than the one outside this room, but not by much. The lights adjust for us as we reach the threshold and go down the hall.
Lillian puts her hand flat against the first door on the right. “This is your closet. I’ll take care of it for you. If there’s anything you ever need, all you have to do is tell me, and I’ll have it repaired or replaced depending on your preference.” Another door, on the left. “The bathroom.”
“This is a suite, not—not a separate bedroom, or a—” I don’t remember anything about a suite on the contract. Every breath I take erases more of the words on the page from my mind. Fear is a slippery thing. It puts itself between you and everything you think you should know, and it pops up again and again, like a hydra that never loses all its heads. “I thought...”
“You thought you might be kept down in some empty cell?”
I whip my head around to look at her, blood fleeing from my lips, leaving them numb and buzzing. “Does he do that?” I’m thinking of Decker, wishing I could run to wherever he is. Wishing I could put my hands on his face and make sure he’s still drawing breaths. I’m thinking of myself, too. “Are there...people in a dungeon here?”
Her eyes search mine and she nods, the movement barely there. “A place of this size has to have somewhere for people to be...kept. If necessary.” Lillian reaches down, takes my hand, and gives it a brief squeeze. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think that’s where you’re headed. Mr. Hades isn’t in that kind of business.”
“What kind of business?”
She presses her lips together. “How much do you know about him?”
“I know he’s ruthless.” One word slips out, then another, until they become a stream I can’t stop. “I know he’s mean.” My eyes fill with tears. “My mother always told me that if he ever found me, he’d kill me. I never knew why. I still don’t know why. I just know that he’s the kind of man who could take someone’s life without even thinking about it. Without even a second of regret.” Pain presses in on my lungs until it’s hard to take a full breath. “I shouldn’t be telling you this at all.” I turn my face away and wipe the back of my hand across my cheeks, swiping away the tears. “You’re—you work for him.” Another surge of horror. “You might go and repeat back everything I’ve said, and then—”
Lillian takes both of my hands and squeezes hard. Hard enough that I let out a yelp. Her dark eyes look like thunderstorms in miniature. The pain clears my head, makes it easier to breathe. She drops my hands.
“I do work for Mr. Hades,” she says softly. “But I’m assigned to you. I’m your personal assistant. I can do your hair, get you something to eat. Whatever you need.” Lillian laughs lightly. “Basically my job is to keep you happy.” She screws up her lips. “Listen. I won’t tell your secrets. My job is to help you, not spy on you.”
The look on her face makes me laugh. “I hope not. Since I just told you a bunch of...highly personal information.”
“Is there anything else that’s bothering you?” She widens her dark eyes, the picture of concern. “Because we can talk about it, if you want.” Lillian glances back toward the main bedroom, toward the door. It’s closed. No sign of anyone approaching. “I won’t say anything.”
A worry that’s burrowed itself down in the center of my gut blooms. Should I tell her? Should I say anything? Because if she’s lying, then Hades will hear every word. I saw him last night. He could retaliate and it would all be over. But it could all be over anyway, and I have no way of knowing if this is for nothing. It makes a difference. Even if my promises are written in ink and set in stone, it makes a difference.
“There is something.” My heart pounds, pulse so loud in my ears that for a moment I can’t hear my own breath. “I’m not sure if there’s anything that can be done, anything that you—” The words get choked off by fear. I swallow it back. “I’m here because...” How do I explain this to another person, much less a woman who’s getting paid to be with me by Hades himself? I start again. “I made a deal. A...trade. A man I was with...” A flare of anger almost succeeds at burning through my fear, but not quite. What the hell was Decker doing, going into that train car? Why couldn’t he just have stuck to the plan? He was always so worried that I wouldn’t stick to the plan, that I’d mess something up by taking matters into my own hands, and now look at us.
Well...look at me. Maybe he’s already been buried under the ground and I didn’t save him after all. The thought of all that dirt pressing down on him makes me feel like I’ve been buried, too. It extinguishes my anger and replaces it with a creeping sadness, like a lungful of water.
“Did he cross Mr. Hades?” Lillian prompts. There’s no sting in her voice, but I sense a certain urgency. She’s right. If Hades comes back in the middle of this conversation I can’t imagine it will go well. “Was that the trade?”
“I traded myself to save him,” I say quickly. “The last I saw, some of Hades’ men were dragging him away. I don’t know if they put him on the train with us, or—or where he went.” Or if they slit his throat. Or if they snapped his neck and left his body in the woods by the tracks. Or if they hauled him here and threw him off the mountain. It’s better not to think of it. Thinking of it makes my balance weak and unreliable. “Is there any way—”
“I’ll see what I can find out.” Lillian gives me an encouraging smile. “And don’t worry. Your secret is my secret, and I don’t tell secrets.”
I blow out a breath, trying to slow my racing heart. Should I have taken the risk? It’s too late now.
&nb
sp; Lillian pats down the apron she wears over her black dress. “There’s one more room to show you. Would you like to see it now, or later?”
I want to move. “Now is good. Please, show me now.”
She moves down the hall toward the final door at the end of the hall and opens it. Every heartbeat is ready to burst out of my veins and explode me into nothing. I’ve seen what kinds of rooms Hades has. I have no doubt this will be another place where he can have people...do things to me. Or do them himself.
“Miss?”
“Please,” I say automatically. “Call me Persephone.” It’s only once I’ve spoken that I realize I’ve been squeezing my eyes shut. They’re only open enough to keep me from running face-first into a wall.
“Persephone.” Lillian’s voice coaxes me into opening them all the way. “This is the library.”
16
Hades
The diamond mines are the farthest I can get from Persephone. They also happen to be the closest source of people who require correction in any number of ways. But stalking through the mines doesn’t help the burning in my blood. It does nothing to tame this...emotion stampeding through my veins. An intolerable emotion. One that grows with every second that passes. The morning bleeds by, then the afternoon, and evening. As much as I relish the terror in their eyes, there is, unfortunately, a limit. There’s a limit for me, too, though none of them will ever know that. I stay until Conor shoves me in the direction of the exits, away from the floodlights that keep the work illuminated. I can feel the effects of it beginning at the far reaches of my mind. If it gets worse—
I’m not fucking thinking about what happens when it gets worse. Not now.
The main thing is that I don’t want to pull my whole fucking enterprise down on my own head. What a waste it would be—all those painstaking deals, all that insolence crushed beneath my heel. All of that can’t come to nothing.
Not today.