by Vivian Wood
He steps out into the hall. Conor moves first, going directly to his side. Hades looks back. His face in profile, even wearing an expression of impatience, is so beautiful it takes my breath away.
“Let go of the fucking railing. Don’t be tedious about this. It wastes my time.”
I’m trying to be good, I want to say, but I don’t. It disgusts me, trying to be good. Who have I become? Less than a day away from home and I’m already scrambling and scraping to please him. I have to stop. I can’t stop. I can never, ever stop.
I follow him out and try to keep myself calm by going over the details. This is not, at first glance, a dungeon, like I’ve read about in my books. Dungeons don’t have walls carved like this, with the same gold streaks I saw before. This floor—this wing?—has no echoing rotunda. The ceilings are high enough that Hades looks almost normal. This place was made for him, as custom as his suits. I steal a glance behind us. The hall disappears into darkness in either direction.
He sighs.
I snap my head around, expecting to see him glaring at me, but he’s standing with his eyes closed, hands in his pockets. It lasts for less than a heartbeat. Conor nudges him below the knees, almost like he’s coaxing him to go somewhere. As if Hades could ever be coaxed. He opens his eyes, frowns at me, and moves down the hall, Conor at his feet. I’m not even as good as his dog.
“Keep up.”
What was that I saw? Relief at coming home? Hades is a man who should be as comfortable here as he is anywhere else. There’s nothing that could possibly touch him, out there in the world or here at home. Does he... like being at home? Need it, like regular people do? It doesn’t seem possible, and yet....
We pass four doorways, and the gloom lifts at the end of the hall, where a double door is set into the end. We’re almost there when I can’t force my feet to go another step. Hades stops and looks around to me, scowling now.
“I said keep up.”
“Just tell me what’s going to happen,” I plead.
He rolls his eyes. “When I said I’d make you beg, I didn’t mean over every obnoxious thought that goes through your mind. I thought that was understood.”
Anticipation and anxiety twist together at the center of my chest, filling up all the space where air is supposed to be.
“I can’t stand it,” I say breathlessly. “I need to know what’s coming. I need it.”
Hades makes his way back over to me, a half-smile on his face. Oh, he understands. He understands. My heart cracks open with relief. I know he’s a bad man. I know he doesn’t care about me and never will. That doesn’t mean he’s incapable of all empathy. He must see in my face how much I need this. Is it a dungeon? A cell? Did I make a mistake thinking this was his home and not a prison? Why would I think the walls would matter? Why, why, why? My thoughts become more and more tangled with every step he takes.
He reaches out and puts a hand on the top of my head, and I let my eyes flutter closed. A comforting touch. I thought I’d never feel a comforting touch again. One tear then two come free of my eyelids.
His thumb rubs over my temple, smoothing back my hair. I need this. I need this so much. I press my lips together to keep my chin from quivering, because I don’t want him to stop. I don’t want—
Hades digs his hand into the back of my hair, twists his fingers in hard, and tilts my face up to his. It pulls a gasp from my mouth. I’ve never seen a harder, more narrowed set to his eyes, not even when he was killing Decker.
“We’re not going to do this.” Nothing about him is loud, which makes his voice sound far deadlier. This is a man who doesn’t even have to speak to keep people in line. “I’m not going to pet you and indulge you at every single fucking doorway. You need to know what happens? You already know what’s going to happen, sweetheart. You’ll do anything I say, and maybe, maybe, I’ll let you live. But let’s get down to the truth at the very bottom of this, the one you keep flirting with and trying to get me to deny. If I want you to die, you’ll die. You belong to me now.”
I stare, open-mouthed, caught halfway between abject terror and disbelief at how beautiful he can look when he’s being so mean.
Hades gives my hair a shake, and I cry out a little at the pain.
“Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” I choke out.
“That’s not good enough, sweetheart. Tell me what it is you understand.”
“That I—” I suck in a deep breath, hoping it’ll give me enough momentum to get the words out. “—I belong to you now.”
“Again.” He pulls my hair, harder, tipping my head back. Hades leans his head down until his lips are an inch away from my skin. He could bite me now, break the skin, and let me bleed out on the floor. All I feel is his hot breath as he exhales. “I said again. How many times do we need to go over this? Or is it that you’re really begging for punishment? I promise you, Persephone; I can make it so you’ll never, ever forget what I’ve told you.”
“I belong to you now.” This time, my voice is low and frantic.
“I can’t hear you.”
“I belong to you now!” His hand digs in, and the pain of my scalp blooms into something sharper, all-encompassing. “I belong to you now! I belong to you now! I belong to you now, please! I belong to you now!” I scream the words, sob them. He’s going to pull me backward; he’s going to let me hit the floor. Instead, he pulls my hair upright, toward the ceiling, and lets me fall.
My knees hit the floor with a bruising blow, and I put my hands to the back of my head, expecting to feel blood. A hand comes down to my chin, pulling me up to my feet. I can’t catch my breath, but somehow, that hand steadies me. Something else does too—Conor, pushing against me. Almost like he’s pushing me up. The dog makes a low noise in the back of his throat, and for the life of me, I can’t tell if it’s comforting me or trying to get me back on my feet to do Hades’ bidding. He presses his nose against the crook of my arm, the rest of him warm and solid. Everything is upside down. I should not feel any safer here with Conor at my side. But I do.
Hades eyes trace my face, following my tears down to my chin.
“Excellent,” he murmurs. “You have no idea how much I loved that.”
“You’re sick.” I shouldn’t say it, not if I want to keep breathing, but the lingering pain overrides what’s left of my good judgment. “Disgusting. Vile—”
“That’s it,” he prompts.
“You’re a terrible man!” I shout.
“Well, yes.”
“You’re the worst person I’ve ever met.” The last tears fall then dry on my cheeks. The air here, it’s not still or stuffy, despite the lack of windows. It’s always moving, always whispering against my skin. “I hate you.”
“Good.” Hades pats my head again, a light in his eyes, a smile playing around his lips. What the hell? “I intend to strip you down to the very core of you, Persephone, and make you mine in ways....” He trails off with a chuckle. “But this bullshit of yours, these little fits of terror over things like doors... save it.”
“Save it?” I cross my arms over my chest to hide the shake in my hands. “Save it for what? This is all… this is all very, very bad.” My throat begins to tighten with tears, so I clear it roughly.
“Save your pretty fear for when I have you naked over my knee or tied spread-eagle on my bed.” He swipes his thumb across the remnants of my tears, the salt tracks that seem to be a constant fixture on my face now. “That’s when I want it. Don’t waste it on things like entering a room. You’ll exhaust yourself, and that will limit the amount I can enjoy you. That’s not what I want. Say it one more time, so I’m absolutely sure you understand.”
His words echo in my brain—naked over my knee, spread-eagle on my bed—and I imagine stuffing them into a closet and shutting the door. It’s the only way I can make myself say it. Because I don’t belong to him. I’ll never belong to him, not truly.
“I belong to you now,” I repeat, voice level.
&n
bsp; “That’s right.” He whistles. “Conor, go in.”
The door swings open beneath his hand like it was waiting for him to open it, and Hades sweeps one hand around my back and pushes me into the room. The dog shoots past us and disappears down one hallway. One of my bare toes catches on the smooth floor, and I stumble, but this time there’s nobody to catch me. He’s behind me, and there’s no way for anyone to—
A hand flies out in front of me just as I catch my balance, and I take it like it’s the last life preserver on a sinking ship.
“Thank you. Thank you so much....” The gratitude dies on my lips as I straighten up, the new information falling into place.
Someone reached out to catch me.
Someone has been inside this room the whole time, hearing what happened, hearing me scream.
I raise my red, hot face, only because I can’t stand the wait any longer.
Five women in black uniforms, their hair combed back in sleek buns, wait in a semicircle in the entryway to the most enormous room—no, it must actually be a set of rooms, because this is no bedroom. To call it a living room seems like a ridiculous understatement. Thick pillars separate an enormous sunken sitting area from the rest of the room. It looks ancient and modern at the same time, like you could curl up at the base of it and stare into a screen or sit around the edges and attend a performance. My heart zigzags frantically at the thought of what kind of performance that would be. Knowing what I know of Hades, it could be....
The blood leaches out of my cheeks, and I take a step back toward Hades. He nudges me forward again with a sharp exhale. I’ve annoyed him again.
One of the women—the one who put out her hand to break my fall—looks to be in her forties, with silver hair and red lipstick that makes me feel utterly naked in its perfection. I look ridiculous, here in this room. A linen dress, handmade for me by an old lady my mother pays by the season? I want it off. If I could have anything else to wear, I’d wear it.
“Fix her,” says Hades. “Don’t disturb me until it’s done.”
He moves past me as the women close in, the lady nearest me reaching for my hand again. Hades doesn’t look back. He heads to a wide hallway leading God knows where.
“You’re leaving?” I call after him.
“What does it look like?”
“I thought you would stay.” I try and fail to keep the quiver out of my voice.
“They’re in charge now,” he says lightly, still not turning back, still not bothering to see if I’m all right. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care. Of course, he doesn’t care. “Obey their orders as if they’ve come from me.”
“I’m Genie,” says the lady with the silver hair. She doesn’t bother to look where he’s gone. Her eyes hold a flicker of concern, but then her face settles into seriousness. “Come this way. We can’t keep Mr. Hades waiting.”
Chapter Twelve
Hades
Persephone would collapse into a fit of tears if she knew about the two-way mirror.
It’s made with slightly different technology than the rest of my windows, which means the wall doesn’t even appear to have a window in it. There are many reasons for me to have a room in my private quarters that allows for observation, but of all of them, this is by far the most enjoyable.
I sit on a sofa designed to my exact specifications, to fit someone of exactly my height and stature, and watch through the window as Genie and her team do their work. There have been other women in Persephone’s exact position before. That’s why the rest of them are here, waiting to do my bidding. I tend to keep people around once they’ve proved their usefulness. I chuckle to myself at the joke. Almost everyone here, aside from a select few, is here because they owe me their lives.
Make a decision, pay the consequences. It’s simple. Persephone acts like she has no experience with consequences, but I can’t imagine that’s true. Demeter has never been the kind of woman to live and let live. It explains everything, from the farm-girl dress to the way Persephone blanches at the sight of an unfamiliar door. She’s been kept quarantined all her life.
Which makes her the perfect thing to be mine.
To make mine. She is a blank slate, waiting to be shaped.
This will have an effect, no doubt. Through the window, I watch as Genie strips off Persephone’s dress, leaving her shivering and clutching her arms to her chest.
“Oh please. It’s not as if it’s cold,” I murmur.
She doesn’t answer, obviously. I focus instead on her pink cheeks and the nipples poking out underneath her tank top. What the hell is that thing? What the hell was Demeter’s plan, to keep her virginal and dress her in nightgowns for the rest of her life? She couldn’t have run away to the city in those clothes. Ah, of course. Demeter didn’t just want to keep her safe; she wanted to keep her incapable. Well, she very nearly succeeded.
Genie demands the tank top next, and Persephone reddens, shaking her head. I could turn the sound up and hear the audio from the next room crystal-clear, but this silent-film shit is better. It forces me to pay closer attention to her body when I’m not distracted by the sound of her voice.
Good woman, that Genie. She only lets Persephone argue with her for a very short time before she calls the other women. I assume she’s threatened to hold her down and cut the clothes off, because Persephone strips in a hurry.
I can’t tell if this display of humiliation is quite real or if Persephone is playing some other game. She stares down at her feet, hands clutched in front of that sweet little pussy of hers, her cheeks a blazing red. But I felt how wet she got yesterday in the train, and again on the elevator. I saw how much she wanted me to fuck her.
Perhaps she gets off on the humiliation. She wouldn’t be the first in the world. But she would be the first to hold my attention like this. On a few occasions, I’ve directed Genie to teach the women a short lesson. Now, I’m struggling to let anyone else touch her.
My phone rings, interrupting my view of the first bucket of water hitting Persephone’s naked skin. I catch a glimpse of her gasp and the way she raises her hands to her eyes to wipe the droplets away, and I pull the damn thing out of my pocket.
It’s my brother.
The fucker.
“What do you want?”
“That’s some way to say hello, Luther.” Zeus sounds mildly disapproving, as if he has any fucking right to have the slightest opinion on how I answer the phone. “I’d think you’d have a more pleasant greeting for your brother.”
“I’m busy.”
“So that’s a no, then.”
“It’s a no to you, asshole. If you’re calling me just to be irritating, then hang up the phone now and spare us both the breath.”
The women in the next room have coordinated forces to scrub Persephone clean, standing there in the middle of the room. I can’t see the drain from here, but I know they’ve arranged her over it. They lift one of her arms above her head, which has the delightful effect of lifting her tits along with it. Then the other arm. Hands on every part of her, none of them mine. I grit my teeth. Genie points to her feet, then points again, and with an expression of agony, Persephone parts her legs so they can wash her there too. I would do this myself—fuck, I want to—but I don’t want to give her the impression this early on that I care for her in any way.
Even if I do.
“—very rude,” Zeus is saying. “It’s obvious you’re not listening.”
“It’s obvious you didn’t have a reason to call.” I shift positions on the sofa. “Here’s some politeness for you. Goodbye.”
“Don’t hang up, Luther.”
“Why the hell not? Does it ever occur to you that I might be preoccupied? I don’t sit around waiting by the phone like one of your... conquests.” I almost called them whores, but the women who are attracted to Zeus aren’t anything of the sort. If I cared, I might call them victims. But I don’t care. I gave up caring a long time ago.
“Of course you’re busy.” He sighs.
“You’re always busy. Too busy to participate in the family—”
I snort a laugh. “Stop fucking with me, you monstrous waste of time and flesh.”
“You wound me.”
“You make me ill.” This is not just an offhand remark. I’m at least giving Zeus the courtesy of the truth. For all the times I’ve been... rough... with Persephone, there’s something different about my situation with her. For one thing, I have to keep her safe. Something happened when I brought her onto the train. Something I don’t want to admit out loud, and perhaps I never will. She’s a liability now, and it’s made all the more complicated by the fact that I can’t kill her. We’ve never met before, but I have the ridiculous sensation that I’ve known her all her life. Or perhaps it’s that her life has just begun.
She’s a danger to me, and I can’t kill her. I fucking won’t.
If only I could kill my brother without causing the family business to collapse.
But that’s neither here nor there.
“I’ll wait if you need to be sick,” Zeus says almost tenderly.
“Goodbye.”
“Tell me, Luther.” Now, he speaks quickly. I hate Zeus with every fiber of my being, but even hating him with this intensity can’t erase our childhood together. He knows when I’m going to follow through. “Did you take her?”
My heart slows almost to a stop. Through the window, Persephone is doused with another bucketful of water. One of the women is filling them again and again. They turn her so I can see her wet curls falling down her back. That. Fucking. Ass. I want her bent over my desk again. Need it.