King of Shadows

by Amelia Wilde

  It’s a massive thing, built for him like everything else in this place has been, with no arms. Hades has created space between him and the desk. Just enough space for me. We look at other in the weird, impossible light.

  “Bend over my lap.”

  I suck in a breath, loud in the quiet of the room. My nerves, numbed by what happened before, rear back to life with a thousand sparkling cuts. Needles all over my skin have me instantly, totally awake.

  Hades clicks his tongue. “Still so slow to obey.”

  He shoves me gracelessly over his lap, legs splayed open, gasping like I’m coming up from deep water. A flash of pain, lace raw on my skin—he’s torn off my panties. Then his hand, searching between my legs. Stroking. I’m a little sore from earlier and I flinch away without meaning to. He presses his other hand down at the small of my back, pinning me.

  “Here’s your answer. Is this what you wanted?”

  “I—” I’m struggling for air, for anything. My hips rock uselessly against his legs. I can’t stop. I can’t stop, and it’s so embarrassing, so awful, that another wave of tears comes. Yes, yes, yes. “No. I can’t want this.”

  Hades laughs. “But it is. You’re wet.” His tone lifts to a wondering register. “You’re so fucking wet, that if I—” He doesn’t bother to describe what he’s going to do. He only shoves his fingers back inside, roughly, without warning, without waiting. “You want this. In fact...” He leans even closer so that his breath brushes my ear. “You need this. And I love watching you cry and squirm and beg for it.”

  “I’m not begging.”

  “Not yet.”

  “I thought—” It’s difficult, thinking, with the slow thrust of his fingers in and out, in and out, so casual. Almost as if he doesn’t know he’s doing it. But he does know. “I thought you wanted to hurt me.”

  “Hurt you?” A note of surprise in his voice. “I would never hurt you.” He pushes his fingers in deeper. Too deep. Fresh tears. “Does this feel like pain?”

  This is, without question, the realest thing he’s ever said to me. The words shimmer in the air, behind my eyelids, through the tears. “It’s more complicated than that.”

  “Because you want it so much.” He’s fucking me with his fingers, but his voice betrays none of it. “It’s dangerous for me to give you what you want.”

  The sensation builds until it’s too much. His fingers. His lap. His office, the furniture looming around me as much as he is. His other hand on the small of my back. He’s so big. He’s so strong. It’s a breathless, needy, desperate hum at the core of me and it’s too much. It’s too much. It makes me come again. This orgasm is raw, almost painful, a thousand sunburns all concentrated into a bomb. From far away I can hear him coaxing me, surprisingly gentle.

  That’s it. That’s it. Yes.

  And then—then—I feel myself twisting, my own body moving, like I’m a puppet on strings. Twisting in his lap. Pushing myself up. Throwing my arms around his neck and kissing him.

  It’s a deep, vicious kiss, his hand on the back of my neck and the other braced against my hip. I’m straddling him. I don’t even know how I got here. But the most tender parts of me, bruised from his fingers, brush against the fabric of his suit. The orgasm peaks and fades. He tastes like snow and fire and the burn of some searing alcohol I can’t begin to name. My heart is ready to fly out of my chest. My heart’s ready to explode.

  Before it’s done, before I’ve managed to reinhabit my body, he pushes me off his lap. I catch the edge of the desk and force myself upright, trembling. By the time I’m on my feet he’s standing. Backing up. Eyes blazing. He was telling the truth—there is something about me that’s dangerous to him. It takes my breath away, or it gives my breath back—I can’t tell. He puts a fist to his mouth, breathing hard. I’ve done something to him. All this time, he’s done things to me, and now I’ve done something to him.

  “Get out.”

  I open my mouth to argue but Hades raises a hand and points behind me.

  “Get. Out.”

  There’s no arguing now.

  I turn and go, feeling his eyes on me every step of the way.

  19

  Persephone

  No door wakes me up in the morning—no swish of Lillian’s skirts, no footsteps in the hall, nothing. I swim in a deep and dreamless sleep for a long time and wake up slowly, muscles aching, almost naked. It takes quite a bit of stretching before I feel like climbing out of the bed.

  I was wrong about the tray. A silver tray balances neatly on the table next to what I’ve come to think of as my reading chair. And that’s not all—a new robe, pure white, hangs over the back of the chair. What’s going on? I shrug it over my shoulders and slip into the seat. I’ve been sleeping forever, and I’m starving. What happened yesterday laps at my mind like an endless series of waves on sand.

  I have to stop thinking of it like that—as what happened, as the thing that happened, as what Hades did. Because what he did was make me come. Three times. A sick, twisted, horrible intense pleasure. Words that shouldn’t belong in the same sentence, but there they are.

  It’s dangerous for me to give you what you want.

  What did that mean? I have the sense that there’s more to this, something I’m missing. But when I look at it directly, it disappears. It’s like a ghost in the night that disintegrates at the first sign of the bathroom light. I rub both hands over my face and look over my breakfast.

  I was wrong about the breakfast.

  Three plates. One with a slim slice of chocolate cake. One with a fan of strawberries soaked in sugar. One with a cloudlike pastry drizzled with chocolate. Two small pitchers of cream. A mug of coffee, black. A jewelry box. A note.

  These are not the normal trappings of breakfast, even here.

  A jewelry box?

  Note first.

  I’ve never seen his handwriting before but I recognize it instantly—flawless, masculine, taking up every available inch of the small slip of paper.

  I’ve instructed Lillian not to wake you this morning in light of our activities yesterday. You haven’t been eating enough, so I had the kitchen replace your meal for the morning. Do better, Persephone. I won’t have my property self-destruct. You’d be useless to me then.

  —L.H.

  He’s left a postscript underneath.

  The jewelry box is for you.

  The note falls from my trembling fingers. A gift? I don’t even know what to think of that. I’d been thinking that yesterday was a nightmare and last night was a continuation of a bad dream gone wrong, but now...

  I can’t make myself wait. The velvet box feels new in my hands. Too light for what it is. It’s wide and flat and when I lift the lid the box ceases to matter at all. Because inside is the most beautiful necklace I’ve ever seen. Wait—two necklaces. Two diamond necklaces. I whip around to make sure nobody’s watching. I’ve never had a necklace like this. I’ve never had anything like this. Flower crowns and poppy jewelry are all I’ve ever worn.

  The first one reminds me of a lace collar, only the lace has been woven from diamonds. I can picture exactly how it would look if I wore it. Heat tumbles over my cheeks. It’s ostentatious, and I bet it’s nothing to Hades. I saw his factory yesterday. He could have a million of these if he wanted.

  And the second...

  The second brings tears to my eyes.

  It’s a simple chain, platinum maybe, and at the end dangles a delicate disk the size of my fingertip. Etched into the disc is a single poppy. I skim my finger over the tiny raised chips of diamonds and rubies that make up the flower’s stem and petals, and memories come crashing in. Sprinting across open fields, barefoot and laughing in the sun. A basket of flowers dangling from my hand. The sweetness of not knowing about the fence, or the train, or the world outside.

  This is the one I want to wear, immediately. When I lift the backing from the box to take it out, another note flutters to the floor at my feet.

  One for specia
l occasions. The other to remind you where you belong.

  It’s easy to see which one is which. I put it on, and the slim coin dangles between my breasts while I eat a miniature assortment of some of my favorite foods.

  While I shower, working the shampoo through my hair inch by inch and slicking conditioner through every curl.

  While I tilt my head beneath the most expensive, quietest hair dryer I have ever seen.

  While I hunt through the closet for something not quite as exposing as the rack of white nightgowns Hades has apparently chosen for me, and which I’ve been wearing since I got here.

  In one corner of the closet I find a collection of slim dresses, slightly longer—they hit above the knee, though the fabric borders on sheer, just like the nightgowns. There’s no hiding what I’m wearing—or not wearing—underneath. I’m not sure why I didn’t see the knee-length caftan at first—it’s the only thing in here with any color. A shock of red, like blood. My eyes must have skipped over it, or else it’s new from when I went into the shower.

  It’s perfect.

  Sheer, like everything else—light, like everything else. A strong breeze could take it away. But the red color makes me feel...new.

  “Persephone?”

  Lillian stands partway in the door to the oversized walk-in closet, frowning, dark eyes on me. Something isn’t right. In the mirror I watch as she flicks her eyes back in the direction she came, lips pressed into a hard line.

  “Is everything all right?”

  “There are things you’ve asked me about.” I turn away from the mirror and find her expression transformed. What was I seeing in the reflection? She’s not worried, she’s determined. Very, very determined. Her dark eyes burn with it. “I got some answers. Come with me.”

  She doesn’t have to say the rest—that only following her, right now, will give me access to the things I want to know. So I do it, stopping only to slip on a pair of white ballet flats. At the door Lillian turns back and murmurs, “Mr. Hades is in his main office. We don’t have to worry about passing him in the hall.”

  I don’t know how she could possibly know that for sure, but my curiosity has been piqued. More than piqued. It’s been grabbed by the throat and dragged out of me. Frankly, it interrupted my daydreams. But it makes my heart beat faster. Every change in the air on the way out of Hades’ private rooms is razor-sharp against my skin.

  Long before we get to the rotunda, Lillian stops abruptly by an alcove in the wall. It’s nothing—there’s no door, just a blank wall. Maybe she’s lost it. Maybe I’m following a woman on a fool’s errand that will only make things worse for me. I need them to get better, not worse. I’m just not sure what better actually means in this scenario.

  She steps up to the wall and presses her hand at a place that looks the same as the rest of the wall. A crack appears. A door slides open. Lillian steps through. Looks back.

  “Persephone, hurry.”

  Secret passageways. Of course he has secret passageways. This isn’t just a mansion, and it’s not just a factory—it’s a fortress. All fortresses are built for secrets.

  I’m a secret.

  A secret who follows Lillian into the narrowest hallway I’ve yet to see on the mountain. The door slides shut behind us, amplifying the sound in the hall. It’s a muffled quiet, except for our breathing.

  “We’ll have to move quickly.” Lillian turns her head so I can hear her, but she never slows down for an instant. “It’s best if we can get back before Mr. Hades decides to leave his office. There should be enough time, but...”

  Enough time for what? I don’t dare ask. That gnawing need to know, know, know expands until my lungs could burst with it. If I let it out into the passageway it’ll take down the whole mountain.

  It gets narrower the farther we go, tilting down, almost like the passageway is herding us. My heart beats its fists against my ribs. If I’ve made a mistake in trusting her, it could be a long time before anyone finds me. It could be a very long time. And I have unfinished business. That’s an accurate way to describe yesterday and last night. Unfinished business. That kiss—that kiss wasn’t finished. I don’t know what possessed me, but I want to know.

  I’m about to grab Lillian by the elbow and tell her to take me back, right now, when we come up against another flat wall. This side has a notch in the rock at about waist level. She puts her fingers in it and tugs. The door comes open. On the other side is a hallway, pitch dark—no. Not pitch dark. Lit by...flames? Faint flames.

  “What is this?” The question sneaks out before I can stop it. “Lillian, where are we?”

  Then a form fills the doorframe and for a horrible sickening second I think it’s Hades. He caught us. My heart leaps up into my throat. This would deserve a good punishment. I wouldn’t be able to argue with him. He’d pin me down and—

  “Persephone.”

  It’s not his voice. And now that I look, it’s not his body, either; the person in shadow is too tall and thin, almost gaunt. But his green eyes haven’t changed.

  “Decker. Oh, my god, Deck.”

  Lillian flattens herself against the wall just in time for Decker to barrel through the passageway and close me in his arms. He curses gently against the top of my head.

  “It all went so wrong.” His voice is muffled by the air and the space and his arms around me. “So wrong. It wasn’t supposed to go that way.” He pushes me back to look at me. “And now he’s done things to you.” Decker’s eyes search mine, a hard set to his mouth. “They made me watch.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, Deck. That was probably my fault.”

  He takes my face in his hands and I wait to feel the flood of relief that I...should be feeling. Right now. It should be cascading over me with all the strength of every waterfall on the face of the planet. Decker is alive, even after yesterday. He managed to keep himself alive after witnessing what he witnessed. But that potent relief doesn’t materialize.

  “How could it have been your fault?” He whispers the words and I’m stricken with the fear that he might try to kiss me. Fear. Real enough to make the hairs on my arms stand on end. I don’t want him to kiss me. If he kisses me, I don’t know what will happen. Hades might taste it on me. He might feel it on me. “None of this is your fault.” He frowns, just a little, guilt like heat lightning in his eyes. There. Gone. In less than a blink, it’s gone. Did I imagine it? Decker screws up his mouth and strokes my cheeks with his thumbs. “He’s a piece of shit.” Thunder in his voice, a tremor in his hands. “That guy—he’s pure evil.”

  He’s not.

  That’s what comes to mind, and to the tip of my tongue. He’s not. The necklace Hades left me this morning sits lightly over my collarbone, the chain whispering on my skin. He knew about the poppies, somehow. Or he guessed that they mean something to me and always have. And the food—the food.

  “I’m all right,” I say instead.

  “There’s no fucking way you could be. The things he’s doing to you—they’ll make you—” Decker shakes his head. He can’t finish. “Look, I don’t have much time before I have to get back. You probably have to get back, too. But it’s okay, Persephone.”

  “I was so worried.” Worried he’d be dead. Worried that it would be my fault. Now that he’s standing in front of me, I should feel relieved but I’m not. I’m more on edge than I’ve been since we arrived at the mountain. I rise up on tiptoe, trying to ease myself away from the sensation. It’s a wild anxiety that can only be soothed by going back to my own room.

  “I’m fine.” A glint comes into his eyes. “Better than fine now.”

  “You have to leave, though. If Hades catches you—”

  “Forget that asshole.” Now a smile spreads across his face. “You don’t understand—we’re getting out of here. We’re getting out of this hellhole.”

  “We have to leave, Persephone.” Lillian’s voice is low, urgent.

  “I can’t leave.” What the hell does Decker mean?

  �
�I have a way to get us on the train.” He glances back over his shoulder at the open door. “Just trust me. I’ll send someone to get you. Okay? Be ready.” Decker looks me up and down. “Try to wear something better for traveling, but if you can’t, then I won’t complain.”

  His smile is the same smile from back at the farm, big and genuine and handsome. He looks exactly the same. He even smells the same, faintly dusty and warm.

  Something is different. Me. I’m different.

  “What happens after the train? He won’t just let me go.”

  “You let me worry about that. I’ve got it figured out. Five days. A week, tops. Then we’re gone, and you never have to see him again. Soon. Got it?”

  Soon I’ll be on the train, heading toward New York City. It’s where I always wanted to go. That’s my dream. How can I even hesitate? Except there’s dread in my stomach. I signed that contract, fully intending to follow through. Fully intending to trade my own freedom for Decker’s life. Except now he’s here offering me escape.

  It’s more than that, though. I’ve been on this mountain for minutes, hours, days—and it’s enough to make me feel safe. To make this feel almost like home. It’s a crazy idea. I’m not safe with Hades, no matter how many orgasms he gives me.

  And even if I was, I’ll never find freedom locked up in my room here.

  “Soon,” I say, ignoring the knot in my stomach.

  In the far distance a whistle sounds and Decker lets go of my face. “Be ready.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  His face softens, lights up. He blows me a kiss.

  Lillian nods. “We have to get back to the room.”

  Decker stops one final time, his dirt-stained hand on the door panel. He looks back, and his face is almost completely in shadow. “It’s almost over, Persephone.”