Hecate's Spell
Page 1
Hecate’s Spell
Monsters and Gargoyles: Book 7
Lacey Carter Andersen
Contents
Dedication
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Chapter 1
Hecate
Chapter 2
Andros
Chapter 3
Blaise
Chapter 4
Orion
Chapter 5
Hecate
Chapter 6
Blaise
Chapter 7
Hecate
Chapter 8
Hades
Chapter 9
Orion
Chapter 10
Andros
Chapter 11
Hecate
Chapter 12
Andros
Chapter 13
Orion
Chapter 14
Hecate
Chapter 15
Gary
Chapter 16
Hecate
Chapter 17
Blaise
Chapter 18
Hecate
Chapter 19
Orion
Chapter 20
Hecate
Chapter 21
Gary
Chapter 22
Blaise
Chapter 23
Hecate
Chapter 24
Orion
Chapter 25
Blaise
Chapter 26
Hecate
Chapter 27
Empusa
Also By Lacey Carter Andersen 
About the Author
Copyright 2020
Published by Lacey Carter Andersen
Cover Design by Andreea
This work of fiction is intended for mature audiences only. All characters are over the age of eighteen. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.
Dedication
To all my readers- thank you for taking the time to read my stories.
~ Lacey Carter Andersen
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1
Hecate
My head jerks off my knees as my eyes flash open. In the darkness, broken only by a torch in the hall, I can’t see what might have disturbed my uncomfortable slumber. I know it isn’t the chattering of my teeth. Over the years, I’ve gotten used to being so cold that my jaw aches from constantly chattering. Even in sleep, my naked body is always covered in goosebumps, and my mouth continues to work. So that noise I expect... What woke me...this is something new.
And probably bad.
Slowly, I push myself off the icy stone and into a sitting position. My body is tight from being curled up on the stone for so long, but as I shift, the skin on my back pulls from the many scars that had healed so badly. The pulling is a constant reminder of the whip that had struck my flesh over and over again the last time I tried to escape, and yet it bothers me less than the memory of Andros being whipped.
Pain I have tolerated, over and over again. Watching the gargoyle I love be hurt for trying to help me escape? It tears at my soul.
But then, Hades had known what he was doing. He is, after all, the King of the Underworld, and an expert in the art of torture. He wanted to be sure we didn’t try to escape again, and his message had been understood, loud and clear.
The asshole.
We hadn’t tried again since. Me because I never again want to see my gargoyle hurt, but Andros because he still believes his brother is coming to save us. I don’t have the heart to tell him that no matter how much his brother loved him, journeying to the Underworld has only been done by a handful of people throughout time.
I didn’t know his brother, but I doubt he will be the next one to venture to the pits of Hades. But I’m glad that Andros has hope still. Because he’s the only thing I still believe in.
Again, I hear a small sound, and I wince, drawing my legs up to my naked chest. It could be anything. A demon or one of Hades’ skeleton guards walking the halls of the prisons, a guard bringing me food that I never touch, or maybe, just maybe, Persephone’s maid sneaking me food from the human world.
I’d only met Hades’s wife once. The beautiful goddess, daughter of Demeter, goddess of seasons, had snuck down to the prisons wearing a dark cloak. She had coaxed me to come closer to the bars of my cell, then she had whispered a warning: should I eat anything from the Underworld, I would be trapped here forever, like her. She had said that no matter how hungry I got, to eat nothing that the guards brought, and that she would bring me food every chance she could get. She never told me why she was helping me, but I suspect it’s because I tried so hard to find her when Hades kidnapped her and dragged her down to the Underworld.
No matter what her reasons were, I was lucky to have an ally in this dark place.
The food from her doesn’t come as often as I wish, but it’s enough for me to survive. And I know she’s taking a risk helping me, so I try to be grateful. Otherwise, at some point I would have caved and eaten, and then I’d be trapped here forever.
I hope the sound is her maid. My stomach actually growls at just the thought, but I’m prepared to be disappointed. When nine times out of ten it’s just someone bringing me pain, I learned pretty quickly to expect to suffer.
Another sound comes, this time closer. I hate that my body begins to shake and that I push further back. But it seems my body wants me to be afraid, even if my soul refuses to cower to Hades and his monsters.
Suddenly, I see Andros between the bars of my cage. My heart soars at the sight of my gargoyle, but I know better than to say a word. His eyes are filled with so much sadness and so much pain that it rips at something deep inside me. He looks the same way he did when he arrived here, his dark hair cut super short, a slight scruff of a beard on his face, and corded muscles in his neck.
Just like most souls, he hasn’t changed since his death, but he is also substantial in a way the souls of the dead never are. He is something...different from the other creatures that come down here, but neither of us know what for certain. And yet, when he steps back I see that he’s still shirtless, wearing ragged and torn pants, his chest and back on display for all to see the marks of his disobedience. No longer even given the respect of a guard, with a uniform, but clothes that show his shame each and every day.
He hangs his head, and I wait.
Hades steps in front of him, his smug smile spreading his lips. “How is my witch?”
I glare at him, curling further around my knees. His dark hair is neatly slicked back, and he practically glows with godly health and beauty. But what’s worse, he’s wearing a black-and-grey striped suit with bones woven into the collar, finely tailored and perfectly clean. Which pisses me off to see, when Andros and I look like we do. I’d grown accustomed to being naked, but I still hate when Hades sees me like this. One day I swear I will be the powerful first witch again, and Hades will have to look at me on even footing.
“Well?” His gaze sweeps over me.
“Just enjoying another day in paradise.”
His teeth clench together and his eyes flash with rage. “Truly, what is it going to take to break you? I had a demon impregnate you. Y
our daughter ran away and left you behind. And I’ve made the man you love torture you. Is there nothing that will destroy your spirit?”
I shrug. “Your breath is pretty damn cruel.”
He swears. “I was going to ask you to entertain some friends today, but I won’t have you embarrassing me. Andros, beat down that spirit of hers, any way you’d like. As much as you’d like. But before my guests leave, she will come to me, and she will be submissive.”
“A cruel ruler with a tiny dick can hope,” I say.
Hade’s eyes hold death. “And if Andros can’t break you, I’ll bring someone to break him.”
“Like I give a shit,” I say, but we both know I do.
Hades turns and walks away, and I look up to see Andros standing frozen outside of my cell. His face is that of a man in torment. No doubt he’s trying to think of a way to torture me and not hurt me. We’d been here too many times before.
“He didn’t specify what you have to do to me…” I say.
My words linger between us, but I say nothing more. There are too many ears in this prison. Too many skeletal guards making certain that everything runs the way Hades wants. Besides, Andros and I know each other too well after so long of loving each other and so few opportunities to say the words aloud.
He moves closer, and I hear the jangle of his keys in the lock. A second later, he opens the door, and even though the hinges are old, they’re soundless. He stands in the doorway to my cell looking down at me, such raw pain in his eyes. I still can’t believe that with all my powers I can neither free us nor take away his shame at having to be my jailer.
Slowly, he closes the door behind him, and I try to rise, but stumble. He’s there in an instant, catching my arm, then pulls me against him. His heat instantly wraps around me, and I groan and press myself against him. His hands rub my skin, which is peppered by goosebumps, and I can feel his rage at the state I’m in. But he says nothing, just continues to use those magic hands of his to wash away the cold.
These are the only moments when I’m warm. When Andros touches me. It’s not often, but I crave him. I crave his heat and his gentle touch, and the feeling that for just a few moments, I’m not alone.
I lean forward and kiss him, and the instant I do it’s like a wall breaks from between us. His mouth presses against mine, hard and desperate. And it takes everything inside of me not to moan with pleasure, but we both know that we have to stay silent in moments like this. If anyone finds out he’s fucking me, they think it needs to be against my will.
Knowing our time is limited, I undo the button on his pants and slide them down. A shudder wracks his body when I start to stroke his hard cock. Andros always wants to go slow for me. He always wants to make it special. I always promise him one day he will be able to, but for now we just need to steal pleasure any chance we get.
I wrap my arms around him and pull myself up his long body, then wrap my legs around his waist.
“Hecate,” he whispers my name, the word surprised.
I kiss him again, then reach between us and angle him so he can slide into me. He stiffens as I work him in my folds, making myself wet, building my desire. His arms hold me tightly, and he moves those extraordinary lips of his down my throat, sucking all the places that get me going. He even gently catches my earlobe with his teeth, and it’s like I’m humming with pleasure.
Then, I position him again and slowly start to sink him inside of me. The head of his cock is tight inside my channel, but also perfect in every way. My eyes close, and I keep going until I reach his hilt, and then we both stop, panting.
“You’re not ready,” he whispers. “I should--”
I pull out, then slam back down on top of him. His words are cut off as he chokes on them. Then, I begin to fuck him hard, and seconds later he responds, giving it right back to me the way I like. This moment is perfect. We aren’t prisoners. We aren’t miserable and alone. We’re just two people in love doing something that two people in love do.
Leaning back in his arms, I work myself harder and harder against him until I orgasm. My entire body spasms, and I have to bite down until I taste blood to keep from crying out. I just explode into a thousand pieces of light, and in that moment, I feel happy.
Andros comes as I’m still riding the waves of my orgasm. His hot seed flows inside of me and his muscles are tense, but otherwise he doesn’t make a sound until he’s finished. And then he presses kisses on my hair, murmuring my name so softly that it might be just the rush of his breath.
After a few minutes of holding each other, I release my hold around his waist, letting my legs drop to the ground as his cock comes out of me. We kiss a few more times, and then he says, “I don’t care what he does to me, I won’t hurt you.”
“I know,” I whisper, stroking his dark hair.
His pale eyes lock onto me once more, and his silent words of “I love you” are there in his face.
“I know,” I say again.
He kisses me one last time, lets me go, and fixes his clothes. As he turns to go, he holds up his finger to tell me one minute. He’s gone for less than that, then reappears. He’s carrying a long shirt that’s torn, dusty, and stained, but my heart aches at the sight of actual clothes.
I smile at him as I pull it on, and I feel strangely more human when the fabric falls over me, covering most of my body, other than where it’s ripped.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He kisses me again, then vanishes out the door, and I hear the key locking it up tight again.
After that, I listen for a long time to be sure that he’s gone. And with each second that passes, my stomach sinks more and more. At last, when I’m sure he’s left the prison, I go to the corner and find the whip I’d made out of roots. Then, pulling the shirt down, I crack the whip across my back, biting down to keep from screaming. I do it over and over again, until I’m sure Hades will be satisfied, then I stagger to the corner and hide the whip beneath the sad pile of straw that’s more like a few scattered pieces.
Then I collapse onto the floor and wait for one of the skeleton guards to come by and see my injuries. They’ll report back to Hades that Andros hurt me, like he was supposed to, and hopefully by the time my gargoyle returns, the injuries will be gone. I’ll protect him the only way I can.
Closing my eyes, I feel tears rolling down my cheeks.
This is my eternity.
2
Andros
Outside her cell, I stagger as far down the dark hallway as I can. Far enough that I know she won’t hear me. And then I sag against the wall. I might be in the Underworld, but I’m experiencing a kind of hell I never imagined. The woman I love is imprisoned. I’m charged with keeping her there. I have to sit by and watch while that bastard Hades treats her like garbage.
My princess.
My angel.
The woman I adore. The woman I’d gladly give my soul for.
My entire body shakes. I press my knuckles to my face, then slam my forehead. I hate myself. I hate that the thing I look forward to most in this world is touching the woman I love. In her arms, I experience heaven. I imagine for one moment that there’s something good in this world still. But every time I leave her arms, it’s harder. It’s harder to go back to the darkness and the pain of the Underworld. It’s harder to come up with a reason to keep going, even though I don’t really have a choice.
I’m ready to break. I know that deep in my soul. I can’t hold on much longer, but I have to. Hecate has experienced the worst things imaginable, and she still holds her head high. She’s all strength and beauty, and I’m nothing but a weakness. If I could’ve signed on for a lifetime of torture to gain her freedom, I would.
But Hades will never allow that. Why only have one of us to hurt when he can have both?
Wiping at my face, I realize that it’s wet. I shove off of the wall, hating myself even more. As I walk past cell after cell, I hear the faint sound of moans of pain. I can feel the suffering that drips
from the very walls of this cursed place. I hesitate outside of one of the cells and instantly the shade’s face appears on the other side. All I know about this shade is that Hades calls her an abomination...and there was something in his voice the couple of times he’d mentioned her that made me think he might fear her.
“Please,” she whispers, her purple eyes glowing brighter.
If I had any food on me, I’d give it to her. But right now, I have nothing I can offer her except my guilt, so I turn away.
I hear her shake the bars of her cage, curses raining from her lips. Strangely, it’s a relief when prisoners are angry. It gets scary when they grow quiet. When they lie on the floor and say nothing. So I’m glad she’s angry. Maybe she’ll just survive long enough to be free of this place.
Not that I think any of us can ever truly be free.
“I’m going to get out!” she shouts.
I freeze in place and look back at her. I almost say she won’t, that even I can’t escape this place, but as the purple glow vanishes from her eyes, then turns gold, I can’t bring myself to say anything to discourage her. All I can do is nod.
Her eyes widen in surprise.
And then I turn back and continue walking. A strange thought tickles the back of my mind that I’ve never seen a shade with golden eyes. Is that why she’s an abomination? Is she not a pure shade?