Corrupted: A Hades and Persephone Romance

by Bella Klaus

  Hades needed to know I wasn’t easy, and I wasn’t someone who could be bought off with expensive gifts. He also needed to tell me what he intended to do with Persephone once she was caught.

  After a deep, calming breath, I placed a scowl on my features and flung it open.

  “What do you—”

  All the air in my lungs escaped in a shocked breath.

  Standing before me was a tall, dark, and handsome Demon King, but not the one I had expected.

  Lucifer wore a fitted black suit that looked tailored to his muscular physique. The top two buttons of his red shirt were undone, making it easy for a girl to catch a glimpse of bare skin.

  He stared down at me, his brows raised, his eyes wide, and his handsome features twisting into a wry smirk. “Well, hello,” he purred. “I must confess to wanting to see more of you. Have I won the Supernatural lottery?”

  Chapter Seven

  I froze in the doorway, letting a cool draft meander from the landing of the penthouse and through my transparent robe. Where was Hades, and why was the King of the Seventh Faction of Hell drinking me in with his dark eyes?

  Lucifer’s smirk morphed into a grin of perfect white teeth, his gaze turning predatory. “May I come in?”

  His deep voice snapped me out of my stupor, making a hot flush erupt across my cheeks. My gold-lace bra suddenly felt like the flimsiest wisp of gold lace, and my thong…

  I placed an arm across my chest and backed further into the apartment.

  Lucifer held the door, giving his head a subtle shake. “Don’t hide yourself on my account. I’m rather enjoying the view.”

  “What are you doing here?” My voice trembled.

  “I saw the invitation on the Supernet, and decided to drop in for the housewarming.” He inclined his head toward the door. “May I?”

  “Do you need an invitation?”

  His response was a rolling laugh that sounded like thunder. The kind of sound that might once have filled the heavens. “You’re mistaking me for a preternatural vampire.” He flashed his teeth again. “I can assure you that my bites never leave a woman feeling drained.”

  Without meaning to, I stepped aside, letting Lucifer glide into my apartment in a cloud of expensive cologne. It was warm and spicy, with hints of cinnamon, citrus, and leather. According to the myths, he was once an angel who fell from grace, but there was nothing celestial about his scent.

  Dami had pushed the chairs and sofas to the walls, leaving an expanse of space before the windows. Lucifer strolled across the living room, taking in the view of the River Thames, and all its surrounding buildings.

  “Which area does your faction govern?” I asked.

  “North America.” He turned to me with a dazzling smile.

  “Why would you come all the way to London for a party?” I rasped. “And so many hours before it starts.”

  He raised his palms and chuckled. “Am I that transparent?”

  My brows drew together. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Lucifer offered me his arm.

  I stared at the crook of his elbow, wondering why he wanted to escort me through my own apartment.

  “Come on.” He flicked his head and winked with an expression that demanded I come hither. “I’m really quite harmless.”

  My eyes bulged. Why on earth had I let this strange man, a fallen angel, a Demon King into my apartment? Lucifer raised his brows, the corners of his lips quirking into a smile that looked designed to give women a false impression that he was trustworthy, a friend, perhaps even a confidant.

  A sense of calm swept through my veins, washing away my panic. There was something hypnotic about Lucifer—perhaps it was his former angelic status, or because we had already met twice before, and both times, he had appeared completely sane. Whatever the effect was, I ended up slipping my hand through his arm and allowing him to walk me to the sofas.

  “I still don’t understand why you’re here,” I murmured.

  “Hell is such a small place, yet information spreads alarmingly quickly.”

  My stomach tightened. From what Hades had told me, Hell was the opposite. At least across the factions. I held my silence, waiting for him to elaborate.

  He lowered himself onto a leather sofa and guided me to sit. “I heard the rumor that Hades married you under false pretenses,” he said, his brows pulling together. “And I worried for your welfare.”

  “My what?”

  His eyes blazed with a heat that suggested the opposite of concern. He lowered his lashes, letting his gaze skim the lace top of my bra. “A sweet, innocent beauty, taken in by a devilish rogue. It must have been harrowing.”

  A breath caught in the back of my throat. He was making Hades sound like a monster. I shook my head, somehow feeling the need to defend his honor. “It wasn’t that bad.”

  “Indeed?” With a flick of his wrist, Lucifer floated a bucket of champagne, and popped its cork. Foam spilled over the neck of the bottle. He shook his head. “I’m not usually prone to such effervescent outbursts, but you look absolutely ravishing.”

  “Oh,” I squeaked.

  His brows drew together. “Are you alright, my dear? You seem rather flushed.”

  My mouth dried, and the pulse between my ears pounded a rapid staccato. “Are you trying to flirt with me?”

  Lucifer drew back, his head tilted to the side, blinking over and over as though trying to process my words. “Trying?” he said, sounding as puzzled as he appeared. “I had hoped to be succeeding.”

  A glass of champagne floated over to me, and I snatched it out of the air.

  “Drink,” he said. “This is an 1852 Perrier-Jouet, one of the finest vintages in existence.”

  I sipped the cool liquid, which was sweeter than the champagne I’d tested at the masquerade ball, but with a hint of tobacco and oak. “Thank you,” I rasped. “But I’m not looking to flirt with anyone right now.”

  Lucifer placed a hand on his chest. “Understandable, since you were used so thoroughly by a rogue.” He floated my hand to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss on my knuckles. “I’m just here as a shoulder to cry on, a chest to pound, a vessel upon which you may vent your frustrations…”

  “What are you saying?” I pulled my hand from his grasp.

  Lucifer frowned. “Your frustrations don’t need to be sexual.”

  The doorbell rang, and I sprang out of my seat, relieved at the opportunity to get away. Bloody Hell. Mother was a lying, scheming psychopath, but maybe she had a point about keeping me away from the front door. I clearly needed a social secretary to screen my visitors… or a less deranged butler.

  Lucifer rose and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Get dressed.” He turned me toward him, his eyes shining with a compassion he must have dredged up from his days as an angel. “Nobody should see you looking so captivating but the man you love.”

  I bolted up the stairs like a frightened rabbit given a head start before the wild hunt and raced through my bedroom door. As I flung it open, it knocked into Dami, who jogged backward.

  “Ouch.” She clasped a hand to her temple.

  “Sorry,” I whispered.

  She stared up at me, her green eyes sparkling. “Never mind my head. Who on earth was that?”

  “You saw him?” I whispered.

  She gave me an eager nod. “Tell me everything, including where you met.”

  “He’s Lucifer, King of the Seventh Faction of Hell.”

  She placed a hand on her temple and mimed a swoon, letting her hair towel fall to the floor with a wet thud. “Don’t tell me you have two sexy guys fighting to shag the daylights out of you?”

  “Dami!” I whispered and glanced toward the door.

  Shaking her head, she gave me a gentle tap on the arm. “Bloody hell, you really know how to attract the rich and powerful.”

  I ran a hand through my hair and grimaced. Hades seemed too preoccupied with finding Persephone to be bothered about me, and Lucifer… He
was as young-looking and as sexy as Hades and probably of an equal amount of power. They were probably rivals or the best of frenemies.

  “He probably just sees me as a conquest,” I murmured.

  “Maybe.” Dami raised her shoulders. “But you’re a free woman now. What do you think of King Lucifer?”

  I sucked in a deep breath. “He’s handsome, but he’s no Hades.”

  Dami nodded. “Even if you can’t remember anything, all that time you’ve spent as his wife has been ingrained in your soul. It’s like that with Macavity.”

  “I thought you’d just recently met,” I said.

  Dami took my hand, and we walked back to the dressing room, leaving her wet towel on the floor. I resisted the urge to pick it up. Part of being free meant not having Mother or Pirithous making me tidy up after myself.

  In the time I’d spent chatting with Lucifer, Dami had laid out a selection of dresses from Jean-René Jacques.

  The first was a purple number that consisted of thick bands of fabric. When I’d seen it on the model, it had created triangular keyholes that exposed her waist and thighs, and the small of her back. It probably wasn’t appropriate, considering Lucifer was waiting for me downstairs, ready to resume his flirting.

  Dami pointed at an asymmetric dress that formed a tight band around my boobs and exposed my stomach. “What about that one?”

  I shook my head and selected a one-shoulder gown that swept down to my knees, which offered the best coverage of flesh. It was a green silk that was so dark it bordered on black. “This is lovely.”

  She stepped back, her eyes narrowing. “It’s a bit respectable.”

  “Then it’s perfect.”

  Dami parted her lips to protest, but I placed a hand on her shoulder. “You were about to tell me about you and Macavity.”

  “Oh yes.” She walked to the counter and picked up her own outfit, a tiger-print crop top with a pair of leggings. “We’ve been mated since Hell got divided into Factions. Sometimes we get to spend a century together, other times it’s a few weeks.”

  My brows rose. “You’re really that old?” I took my dress off the hanger, unzipped it, and stepped into its shell. “Doesn’t being separated for so long cause problems?”

  Dami shouldered off her robe, pulled on the leggings, and slipped on the boob tube. “That’s the life of a Hellcat.”

  “Are you happy you’re both in London for this life?” I turned around, exposing my back.

  She zipped up the dress and fumbled with a clasp at the top. “Yeah, but Macavity and I can only be together as house cats. It’s much better when both of our forms are compatible.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a perfect arrangement.” I shot her a sympathetic glance.

  She shook her head. “It is what it is. I’m just glad he’s not stationed somewhere far away, like Mesopotamia.”

  “I suppose.”

  For the next few minutes, we did each other’s hair and makeup. Dami, who was a natural beauty with brown skin and delicate features, only needed a touch of mascara and the tiniest amount of gloss. Seeing as it was the beginning of spring, I was still pale and needed absolutely everything.

  “Where did you get the makeup?” I asked.

  “I’m on good terms with my colleague,” she said, sounding breezy.

  I parted my lips, letting her coat them with pigment. “From the coffee shop?”

  “Namara.” After painting my lips, she gave them a spritz of magical sealant. “She and I have been in constant contact.”

  My brows drew together. “Are you getting a salary for being my PA?”

  She drew back and grinned. “A bedroom of my own and not just a basket in a corner? A company credit card and all I can eat? Who needs money?”

  “Dami, you don’t have to—”

  She squeezed my arm. “Staying here with you is more than my wildest dreams. You don’t even treat me like a cat.”

  “Because you’re my best friend,” I said in a small voice.

  Dami had once mentioned that the people in the coffee shop never allowed her near the cash register. At the time, we had been in an Überwald Achtung, racing away from Hades, who I had just discovered was the Demon King. Now, I wished I had taken the time to find out more about where she used to work.

  She wrapped her arms around my middle, resting her head on my chest. “That’s what I mean,” she said with a gentle sniff. “When I’m with you, I feel like a real girl.”

  I shook my head. “If you look the part and act the part… I mean, there’s no difference between you and a shifter, is there?”

  She drew back, offering me a dazzling smile. “That’s what I love best about you.”

  A knock sounded on the door, making us both jump apart.

  “Bloody hell,” I whispered. “I’ve just left Lucifer out there on his own.”

  Dami’s brows drew together. “You don’t think he’ll destroy the apartment, do you?”

  It was hard not to picture the King of the Seventh standing in the middle of a mess of torn papers, shredded fabric, and cushion stuffing, and I bit down a laugh. “Let’s go and see what he wants.”

  She entwined her fingers with mine. “Are you ready?”

  I nodded, turned to the door that led to the bedroom, and sucked in a deep breath. “When you climbed to my windowsill last Samhain, did you ever imagine we would share a penthouse in London?”

  Dami’s features stretched into a wide grin. “Your magic called to me, but I didn’t understand it until now.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Before Hell got split into the factions, I had a mistress for a day, but I never got to fulfill my contract.”

  “You think that was me?”

  “You’re a bloody goddess,” she said. “And my instincts could tell. Why else would I burrow beneath the ground to sneak into a warded mansion?”

  She opened the door, and we both stepped into the empty bedroom, where the sounds of a jazz piano and snare drums drifted in through the closed door.

  Whoever had knocked on the door had already left. Through the wall of windows, the sun dipped behind the distant high-rises, coloring the sky a vibrant indigo.

  My breath caught at the view. Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament glowed a warm orange with strips of molten sunlight reflecting on the water’s surface. It was more spectacular than anything I’d seen on television.

  I grabbed Dami’s hand, and we crossed the room together.

  “What did your mistress want?” I asked.

  “It was such a long time ago, so the details are hazy,” she replied. “But we bonded with a contract, and she said she would return to give me detailed instructions.”

  We stepped out of the bedroom into the mezzanine, finding it filled with men in dark suits and women in smart cocktail dresses. Servers walked around them, carrying silver trays laden with drinks and canapés.

  The five-piece jazz band of women wearing burglar masks swayed to a lively tune that could have been the soundtrack to a 1960s movie starring Audrey Hepburn.

  Dami and I exchanged shocked glances. From the way her jaw dropped, I don’t think she had expected our housewarming to be such a classy affair.

  As the tune faded to polite applause, Lucifer strode to the stage and picked up the microphone. “Let’s raise a glass to our gracious hosts, Queen Kora and her lovely companion, Miss Damisa Toyger!”

  The sophisticated guests applauded and shouted their congratulations. A pair of champagne flutes floated toward us. Dami and I stood frozen on the mezzanine until the glasses drifted to our lips.

  I took my glass, whispering out of the corner of my mouth, “Who is everyone?”

  “Umm….” Dami sipped her champagne, her gaze wandering across the crowded space. “One or two people from your trial are here, plus Macavity, Mera, and Valentine.”

  “Where?” My gaze followed where she was staring, and the tightness around my chest relaxed. At least we knew someone at this par
ty.

  As I walked down the stairs with Dami, I glanced around the crowd of people for one particular face, but there was absolutely no sign of Hades.

  I downed half my glass in one swallow. Hades had to know about the housewarming. So why wasn’t he here?

  Chapter Eight

  As we approached the bottom step of the stairs, Dami squeezed my hand, giving me the courage I needed to meet all these guests.

  “Are you nervous?” she whispered.

  “Yes,” I murmured back. “What if one of the coven is here, or someone worse?”

  She leaned into me and said in a low voice, “Mera and Valentine are good in a fight. I also can’t see Lucifer letting someone take you away after he came to flirt.”

  My heart flip-flopped, and I stepped forward on shaky legs, forcing a wide smile. Dami was right. There was no need to be nervous. I was among friends here—well-wishers who had answered the invitation to our housewarming party.

  It was what I’d always wanted—a chance to be myself, a chance to be free. Now that I had it, I wouldn’t waste the opportunity by succumbing to jitters. Deep breaths rasped in and out of my lungs, spreading a sense of calm, which only got better when Lucifer strode across the room and handed me something in a cocktail glass.

  It was encased in ice, and my warm fingers melted against the frost. I finished my champagne and handed the empty flute to a passing waiter. “Thanks.”

  “You look absolutely ravishing.” He leaned in close with a low purr. “Although the other outfit was more to my preference.”

  Heat rose to my cheeks, and I lowered my lashes. Now was the time to set Lucifer straight and let him know I only wanted to be his friend. “Listen, when I answered the door in my underwear, I thought you were Hades.”

  He waved a dismissive hand. “That bastard values quantity over quality. He wouldn’t know a goddess if she sat on his face.”

  I took a sip of the drink and winced at the amount of salt whoever had prepared it had placed on the glass’s rim. “What is this?”

  “A dirty martini. Is it not to your liking?” he asked.