by Vivian Wood
I could say the same for him. I don’t. I launch into the news about Kiro.
The trail is pretty much dead—that’s what the investigator said in so many words.
“No,” Viktor says. “He needs to look again.”
“Viktor…” I stare up at the shining blue sky beyond the glass ceiling, imagining Mira’s plane up there in the clouds. And Kiro…who knows where he could be?
A waitress comes over, and Yuri orders vodka—no, not three glasses; a bottle and three glasses.
“He gives up too easily on our brother. He needs incentive, I think.”
“It’s a computer search of image databases,” I say. “You can’t just make the computer give better results. And nobody’s giving up, it’s just…” I’m about to say “more impossible,” but I amend it to “harder.”
“We will never give up,” Viktor says, in a tone like he wants to kill somebody.
“Never,” I agree.
“And we will destroy Lazarus without Kiro. I will squeeze his skull until his eyes pop out, and then when we find Kiro, he’ll have a place in the world. We take it back for Kiro.”
Our vodka arrives. Yuri pours.
Viktor lifts a glass. “We get bloody. Nobody’s stopping us now.” With Mira gone, he means. “When we’re done with them, they’ll pray for death.” He drinks. Yuri drinks.
I stare into the clear liquid.
“What is it, brat?”
“I can’t drink to that. Getting bloody just to get bloody. Violence and vengeance.”
Viktor looks at me like I just announced I hate vodka and hundred-dollar bills.
“Don’t worry, I’m good for my word,” I say. “I’m committed to taking back what’s ours and destroying the vile parts of it. I’ll do what it takes to get Kiro back if we ever—when we get a lead. But violence and vengeance…”
I meet Viktor’s scowl.
“She thought I was worth saving,” I continue. “It did something. It changed something in me…” I’m just as surprised as Viktor appears to be. But it’s true. Things feel different.
“Changed something in you?” Viktor spits out. “More like ruined you.”
I think back to that moment in the hotel, staring into Lazarus’s eyes. I could’ve executed him right on the spot. My greatest enemy. “Ruined me for some things.”
He rolls his eyes. “Fine. To her, then.”
I eye him suspiciously. He shrugs.
“To her.” I drain the glass.
He pours another.
“To Kiro,” I say. “We’ll never give up. And Yuri. To brothers of all kinds.”
“Brothers with beat-up faces. The best kind. Skol.” We throw back the cool-burning alcohol. I hold my glass out for more. He pours.
“Back to taking the empire the smart way,” Yuri says. “More boring. Still effective.” Again we drink.
Viktor catches my eye. He looks concerned.
“I’m fine,” I say. A lie.
That’s when I catch sight of dark hair across the lobby. Mira. She’s heading to the elevator banks.
She turns to me as if she feels the weight of my gaze. And then she smiles. Her smile is like the sun.
I think it’s a dream. A mirage, maybe.
I stand, glass cool in my fingertips, as she turns and starts toward me, past the grand stone waterfall, dark hair catching the light from above.
She looks so beautiful, I think it can’t be real. I feel something cool dribbling over my fingers.
“You are spilling it, brat.” Viktor takes my glass from my hand. “I would not like you to waste good vodka. Even on a spoiled mafia princess.” A joke, I suppose. I’m barely comprehending. I’m already gone, moving across the gleaming marble floor. I stop in front of her, speechless.
She just grins. She’s happy. The haunted look is gone.
“What’s wrong?” she asks. “I got a bluebird on my shoulder?”
I go to her and yank her in for a kiss. She’s warm and real and everything I love.
She pulls back with a mischievous expression. I think she’s going to give me shit for drinking vodka at two in the afternoon.
She doesn’t.
“You and your fucking English toffee and selfless gestures and you expect me to get on a plane? I love you, Aleksio.”
My heart twists. “You said love wasn’t enough. The whole thing with the sandcastles?”
“Yeah, you’re still kicking down sandcastles, but some of them need kicking down. I want to kick them down with you—like that Valhalla, for starters.” She gets a serious look here. “But then let’s make our own life, our own rules. Build something better than what our families built. Together. What do you think?”
“Yes. Fuck yes.” I brush the hair from her forehead. I love her like this. A rebel and a warrior. I grab her hair and kiss her.
And somewhere out there baby animals are laughing, and it doesn’t have to mean everything is doomed. It can just mean something stupidly normal.
Like happiness.
Like forever.

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Annika Martin is a NYT bestselling author who loves reading fun, steamy books, doing yoga, taking pictures of her cats, rocking out to 90’s music, taking long baths, consuming See’s chocolate suckers, mooning over heroes’ hands, helping animals, and connecting with readers. She can be found hanging out in Minneapolis coffee shops with her awesome writer husband and tending her crazy bee-friendly garden.
Learn My Lesson
Katee Robert
Chapter One
Meg
Once upon a time, a woman fell in love with a man. He wasn’t a good man. Men never are, I’ve found. But this woman hadn’t learned that hard lesson yet. She still had stars in her eyes and the kind of innocent love in her heart that the world delights in setting aflame.
When the man asked the woman for a favor, just a tiny little favor to prove her love to him, because she did love him, didn’t she? Of course she said yes. Of course he left her to pay the price for his sins. Of course he never once looked back.
And the woman?
The woman lost her innocence in the flames of his betrayal.
She rose from the ashes, a goddess in her own right, second only to her new master.
It’s a good story, as such things go. Far more romantic than the reality: I loved the wrong man and made a deal with the devil to save him. That kind of man doesn’t cleave to innocence lost, no matter what lies he spilled to bargain me away, and he left me as soon as the price was paid.
It’s just as well.
The devil suits me better anyway.
The devil in question sits next to me in a corner booth in a restaurant that’s unfamiliar to me. He’s wearing his usual suit that always seems a tiny bit rumpled in the sexiest way possible and his salt-and-pepper hair is styled to perfection.
Add in the thick black-framed glasses, and it’s enough to have me clenching my thighs together in anticipation. Or it would be if I didn’t know him better.
Nearly ten years at his side and I know what the gleam in those dark eyes and the tiny smile pulling at the edge of his sensual lips means. Nothing good. Not for me. Not for whoever he has his eye on.
I idly stroke the stem of my wine glass and sigh. Another day, another game of manipulation. Sometimes, I swear Hades pulls shit just to keep boredom at bay. When one rules his little sliver of Carver City and has every other ruler in town simpering at his feet, boredom is the only real danger he faces.
I wish my life were that simple.
I contend with boredom. Of course I do. I’m Hades’s right hand, his queen, the second most powerful person at the Underworld. No one would dare touch me. To do so is to court his wrath, and if there’s a single person in this world who holds a grudge better than I do, it’s Hades.
None of that protects me from the harm a decade together can cause. The kind of drifting that sets two people at odds despite their best efforts. I don’t know where we went so wrong, and I can’t begin to fix something so broken on my own. Hades doesn’t even seem to notice the distance between us that grows more and more uncrossable with each day that passes.
“How would you like to play a game, love?”
If he were the real Hades, or whatever creature rules the afterlife, he couldn’t be more tempting and dangerous than he is in these moments. I look away. I have to. I’m not the green twenty-three-year-old girl who bargained away her life for a man who’d forget her before the day had passed. I know better than not to play a game with this man.
No matter how much I love him.
“I’m really not in the mood.”
“My dear sweet Meg, always determined to play it straight.” His smile never wavers, but some of the warmth leeches out of his eyes. A warning, that. “You should know better by now.”
Yes, I should. I very much should know better by now. There was a time when I’d happily dance to any tune he set, wanting to please him for the sure happiness he shone down on me in those perfect moments. Now our love is more cruel edges and the kind of cut that one doesn’t even notice until hours later.
I lean back, putting as much distance between us as he’ll allow. “Like I said, I’m not in the mood.” I sound cold and uncaring, but I can’t seem to stop myself.
“Jafar’s baby girl is rubbing off on you, I see.” He studies his wine glass, still half-full despite our ordering before the meal arrived. “How is the darling Jasmine these days? For reasons unknown, Jafar seems disinclined to respond to my calls.”
For reasons unknown.
It certainly doesn’t have to do with Hades orchestrating her kidnapping a handful of months ago. “Pride a little hurt? Maybe you should have taken care of Ali before he damaged the Underworld’s reputation.” I smirk. I can’t help it. We know each other’s buttons too well, and even though it hurts, we can’t help dancing on them as it suits us.
“We’re nothing without our reputation,” he muses, but I can tell he’s already moved on. Whatever he’s thinking of now, it’s not the events from a few months ago. Hades reaches over and clasps my wrist in a deceptively gentle grasp. He flips it over and runs his thumb over the tattoo there, a blue flame. It marks me as his.
Forever.
My body goes tight, readying in fight or flight, my breath stalled in my lungs as I wait to see what he’ll do. Hades. My Sir. My owner in every sense of the word. I might dominate others in his club, might have what appears to be free rein over everyone there as I choose, but he is the only one who holds my leash. With Hades, there is no give and take.
He dominates. I submit. The end.
It used to be enough. We were in this together, true partners, true equals. These days, it feels like we’re going through the motions with each other. Coming to this quaint little restaurant with its faux romantic lighting and expensive wine list might be out of our ordinary, but this game just proves that Hades isn’t really trying to bridge the gap. He simply wants a new setting for a new scene.
Exhaustion rolls over me in a wave. I am so incredibly tired of playing. I should part my lips and tell him exactly where I stand, tell him I’m not happy and haven’t been for a long time, beg him to see how wrong things are between us.
I don’t. Even with this man, I’ve learned my lesson too well. The trust we built so painstakingly between us is weathered and beaten. I can’t be sure that he’ll meet me halfway, and because I can’t be sure, I am incapable of taking that first step to reach out.
Instead, I resign myself to another night of pleasure that will hold the pain at bay, at least for a little while. “Heavy-handed, don’t you think?” I keep my tone dry as I pull against his grasp. “After ten years, do you really think it will have magically disappeared if you don’t check it daily?”
“It’s a reminder, Meg. For both of us.” He brings my wrist to his lips and presses a devastatingly sweet kiss there. The contacts shoots straight to my core. When he starts gently, he ends the cruelest, and even as I resist him, I crave what only he can give me. Barbs. Thorns. The kind of heat that scars. His words echo in my head. Let’s play a game.
I shiver, something going soft inside me despite my best efforts to hold steady. “What kind of game?”
“Your favorite kind.” He traces my knuckles with his thumb. “I’m going to pick a person in this restaurant… and you’re going to fuck them.”
I twist and look out at the room. We’ve never been here before, but it’s packed on a Friday night. The main room is small enough to create an intimate feel. With the low lighting and soft music filtering through hidden speakers, it’s the kind of place that invites a couple to lean in, to speak softly in each other’s ears, to buy into the romance that exists simply by being here. And it is almost exclusively couples in here in pairs or on double dates. The food was an eclectic mix and though I was too on edge to eat my fill, the smells from neighboring tables have my mouth watering. I’ll come back here again someday alone, when I can enjoy the meal without anticipation putting off my appetite.
I study the tables I can view from my spot, but I don’t see anyone I recognize. That’s a warning in and of itself. Hades might break my heart over and over again in a thousand different ways, but he would never put me in a position where I could truly be harmed. He may be careless with my heart, but he would never make the same mistake with my body.
Sending me to fuck some stranger? There are so many variables. There’s no way he can control it. No way he can guarantee that I’ll be safe. He’s bluffing. He has to be.
I relax back into the seat and turn back to face him. He is so handsome, his face the subject of so many more good memories than bad, I can almost pretend that nothing has changed. That we’re still fresh in this relationship and nothing has had a chance to sour. I squeeze his thigh with my free hand, letting my fingers drift higher. “You want me to fuck someone here.”
“I’m not in the habit of repeating myself.”
“Unless it suits you.”
His small smile has me shifting closer. He picks my hand off his thigh. “Unless it suits me.” Hades repositions me so that I’m leaning against him, his lips brushing my ear with each word. “Do you see the waiter?”
“What?” Is he serious? He wants me to fuck a waiter?
“The blond.”
I see who he means immediately. Truth be told, I clocked the man when we walked in, the same way I clock anyone who catches my eye. There are half a dozen people in this room who got a second look, but he’s the only one wearing the same white shirt and black pants as the rest of the staff.
He’s old-world movie-star handsome. The chiseled jaw, the easy smile, the big body that is athletic without being over-the-top muscled. Young, too. Not just in age, though if he’s older than twenty-five, I’ll be surprised. No, this guy is almost…
I jerk when I recogniz
e it.
He’s an innocent. There’s something shiny and new about him that will make people like Hades want to tarnish it. I used to be the same way, once upon a time. Now, I’m the one who does the tarnishing. “I don’t play with babies, Hades.”
“Come now, Meg.” He nips my earlobe. “Look at how eager he is to please. He’ll probably come in his pants the second he tastes your pussy. All that enthusiasm in such a fetching package. You should thank me for giving him to you.”
I shouldn’t.
I really shouldn’t.
Whoever this man is, I know better than to take this at face value. Hades didn’t pick him randomly. He has a plan, has some manipulation going on. If I agree to this, I’m playing a part, and I don’t get to cry foul later when it all comes to light. I lick my lips. “Thank you, Sir.”
“Anything for you, love.”
I have to laugh a little. Trust his gift to have more strings than Pinocchio. “You’re hardly giving him to me. I’m assuming I’ll have to seduce him?”
Hades’s chuckle in my ear makes my nipples peak. “Give yourself a little credit. Crook your finger, and he’ll be eating out of the palm of your hand.”
There’s a catch. There must be.
I close my eyes and force myself to relax. “You don’t usually send me after the vanilla. In fact, you never send me after anyone unless we’re in the club.” The club where there are safety measures in place. Cameras in every room, a full staff of security to dissuade anyone from stepping out of line, and Hades himself who rules with an iron fist.
Not that I think I can’t handle this guy, but I’ve been surprised before.
“Meg,” Hades murmurs. “You’re mine, are you not?”