“Do you have an update?”
“No, sir. All the materials from Demeter were loaded without incident, and the crew went home.” All except one, of course. Conor lifts his head up and returns to the fireplace. Curls up. Falls asleep.
“If you don’t have an update, why are you calling me?” I lean my head back against the sofa and close my eyes. With a family like mine, there’s a certain need for vigilance. The best part about the train is that it’s exceedingly difficult to attack when it’s going at full speed, and I know my men cleared the cars before we started moving. This is one of the only places I can even pretend to relax. “If you killed someone again, there’s no reason to give me all the details. Bury the body and move on.”
He chuckles. “You didn’t leave the platform for your meeting earlier. I wondered if you planned to turn back or reschedule.”
Right. That needy, obnoxious ache in the center of my chest starts up again, and I sit up straight, rubbing at my eyes. The fucking moonlight. This was why I needed the meeting in the first place, but that’s not going to happen now. Not now that I’ve got Demeter’s daughter in my bedroom. That’s certain to put a wrench in things. What difference does it make in the end? Demeter was smart to hate me in the first place. Her paranoia keeps her safer than she would be otherwise, and to my great disgust and irritation, I do need her to be safe.
I need a great deal more from her.
“Callahan, if I wanted to turn back, I’d have given you the order already.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Don’t bother me again.”
The call disconnects with a two-toned beep, and I’m left alone in the train car. Wind whistles along the outside, a pleasant white noise. The very moment the call ends, Persephone is back at the front of my mind, clinging to my shoulder and begging me not to kill that worthless sack of flesh. My cock reminds me of every angle—her delectable body bent over my desk, the way she had to spread her legs so wide to fit my hand, the way she loved it.
I stifle a groan at how much she wants it, how much her body wants all the filthy things I’m going to do to her. And that admission she was a virgin—fuck. I knew she wasn’t lying the first time she said it, but who doesn’t like to push a little here and there? Make them spill a few more tears? Make them think it’s their very last breath they’re sucking in?
It’s painful how much I need to use her. I get up from the sofa in the dark and go over to the desk. Brace against it. Undo my pants with a swift jerk. Let her see me now. I’d love to see a brand-new wave of tears spill out of her eyes. How she’d hate it if I made her come on my fingers. She’d hate it down to her bones, down to the center of her soul. Persephone has a soul—that much is obvious—and it’s become my mission in life to dirty it up until she can’t see any way to live without me.
I wait as long as I can, precum gathering on the tip of my cock, and then I take it in my fist and pump it hard, hips angled toward the wastebasket, straining for the sound of her breath. I’ve taken her. I’ve bound her to me by her own words, a pretty extra on top of the fact that I was going to do it anyway. And yes, yes, this will make things infinitely more complicated for me in the short term. There are things I need from Demeter in order to live my life. She can never know about Persephone. She finds out, and it all comes tumbling down. But none of those complications do a thing to relieve the unfiltered lust rocketing through my bloodstream.
The release is an anticlimax, empty and base, and as soon as it ends, the cycle begins again. Sunrise, sunset. I lean against the desk and catch my breath. Taking her, that was easy. Making her cry, easier still. But keeping her at arm’s length?
Curses fill my mind, and I fall back onto the sofa. Persephone believes I’ll destroy her, and I will—in every possible way that will still let me enjoy her. Only here, in my train car, my cock already getting hard again, can I sit in the knowledge that this could be the end of me too.
9
Persephone
My eyes open to a darkness so complete a scream lurches up in my throat. I clap my hands over my mouth, holding it back while I get my bearings. Where am I? I can’t see anything, and this makes the memories from last night even worse. Decker’s slow kicks. The leisurely turn of Hades’ head. His hand between my legs. I scrabble for something to hold onto, and my hand meets a pillow.
A pillow. A bed. His bed.
My heart beats hard and sharp like I’ve been running. I made a deal to save Decker’s life, and I belong to Hades now. I tell it to myself again, and then a third time, but no amount of repetition makes it seem okay.
It is not okay.
It is not okay from any possible angle.
I press my knuckles against my eyes, wiping away dried tears. My skin is puffy, and my face is probably still red. My hair—I don’t have any way to fix the mess it’s in. I smooth my hands over the curls and feel Hades’ hand there too, the ghost of his touch from last night.
Last night, or another night. How long has it been? How long did he let me sleep? He couldn’t have told me to rest, could he? A man like that wouldn’t care about my beauty sleep. I fumble my hands together and whisper a half-remembered prayer that one of the girls in school used to say. I can’t remember all the words, and I seriously doubt anyone will hear me. If last night taught me anything, it’s that there is probably no God.
There is only Hades.
The door opens, sending me scrambling back on the bed, eyes stinging. The vibration of the train slows, stops. I blink at the enormous figure in the doorway. Light streams in around him. I’m a mess, and he looks like he just stepped out of a walk-in closet. His jacket is back on. “Get up.”
“Where are we?”
“Sweet thing, did I invite you to ask me questions? No. I told you to get up.”
I tip myself off the side of the bed. My shoes are missing. Either I kicked them off in the night or Hades stole them, which seems unlikely. There’s no time to look for them now. Not with him watching me. His eyes are hidden in the shadows, but I can still feel where his gaze meets my skin. A strange heat. What happened before I slept taunts me. My cheeks must be the color of my mother’s garnet-hued orchids. Or deeper. I open my mouth. Don’t say anything. Shut it again. Don’t. “But where are we?”
I have a small, wild hope that maybe we’re in the city and Luther Hades has decided to go back on our arrangement. He could let me off the train right now and I could proceed with the plan Decker came up with. Find somewhere to stay. Keep running. It’s the tiniest thing, like a newly hatched bird, and I know I’m being ridiculous by indulging it.
The slightest inhale of breath, which I recognize as a laugh.
“Where do you think we are?” He folds his arms over his chest, blocking more of the light. “Do you think I’ve brought you home to run back into your mother’s arms? Come here.”
This time, I don’t hesitate. Hesitation only ends with me crawling across the floor, and I don’t want to cry again this soon after waking up. I stand one step away from him, and he reaches for me. With a rough grip, he forces my face upward, fingers tight around my chin, so tight I gasp.