“Like Mother Dearest is yours?”
A wicked, evil grin twisted the god-king of the Underworld’s lips. “Your mother is strength reincarnated. The female you’ve attached yourself to is nothing but destruction. Find another to fuck and rid yourself of her before she ruins you for all eternity.”
Hades poofed into the ether as quickly as he’d arrived. And alone, Zagreus looked across the dim room, flickering with a blue-green light from the underwater window.
His father was wrong. Cynna was not any sort of destruction. She was his way out. The one shining beacon of hope in his endless fucking life of misery. And she would never dare stand against him. He made sure of that on a continual basis.
But even as he tried to convince himself of that fact, his mind skipped back to the fight yesterday in the ring. To the way she’d been watching the prisoner below. To the look that had been in her eyes. A look he’d noticed but hadn’t thought much about until right this minute.
Fear.
Worry.
Compassion.
The first two didn’t concern him. But the last caused an odd tightness to condense in his chest.
The dark energy inside—the energy that kept him powerful—welled like a living, breathing creature in the pit of his soul, wrapping gnarled tentacles around his thoughts, spurring his actions. He pushed out of his chair before he could stop himself and stalked through the caverns until he found the stairs, then skipped steps to get to her floor.
He didn’t knock when he reached her room, simply turned the doorknob and stepped inside. The lights were off, the only illumination the same eerie blue-green light from an underwater window much like the one in his office. He looked around, that dark energy snarling and swirling every second he didn’t see her. And then he spotted her, sound asleep on her stomach in the middle of the bed, her head tipped his way on the pillow, her blonde hair spilling over her back and partially blocking her perfect face.
Crossing to the bed, he sat on the edge of the mattress and brushed a blue-streaked lock away from her temple. She’d taken off her boots but nothing else. She’d been so exhausted after she’d left his bedchamber last night, she hadn’t even bothered to climb under the covers. His gaze slid over her body, over the short skirt that showed off her wicked legs and his long-sleeved T-shirt that was three sizes too big for her. A burst of relief stole through him as he took in every delectable inch of her.
Remind her who’s in control. Make sure she never forgets…
Thoughts spun out of control. Dark, warped, angry thoughts that were fueled by the shadow energy churning inside, the energy that was rooted to the Underworld and which fed his powers. His fingers tangled in the ends of her hair, and he squeezed his hand into a tight fist, a blinding urge to yank on her scalp, to wake her with pain consuming him. But he struggled against it. Giving in to that energy kept him strong, but he hated the outcome. Hated what it made him do. Especially to her.
Slowly, he released his grip on her hair and smoothed his fingers down the silky blonde locks. He’d scored a major victory when she’d come to him looking for a deal, and he couldn’t let her go. Not if he ever hoped to break free of his father’s control. He could lose his underground kingdom, he could even lose his satyrs—he wouldn’t care—but he wasn’t about to lose her and the promise of freedom she’d become.
“Sleep, my sweet Cynna. We still have much work to do.”
He pushed from the bed and stared down at her. The dark energy still raged inside, but this time, he fought it back. This time, he wasn’t going to let it control him.
Because this time, he finally had a way out.
Cynna couldn’t shake the chill.
Seated at one end of the long dining table while conversation drifted around her, she stared into the crackling fire in the big stone fireplace and watched the flames lick and skip over the charred wood. Where did Zagreus get the wood? His lair was in an underground cave system. Someone had to leave and bring it back. Why couldn’t she have been given that job instead of being branded the mistress of pain and torture?
And why, in the name of all the gods, had Nick thanked her after everything she’d done to him?
The flame popped and sizzled as it rolled over the log, consuming it from the outside in. She felt like that piece of wood. Like there was nothing she could do to stop the fire from devouring her. Like she was trapped with no escape. Like she was destined to be nothing more than a cold, dark shell of her former self, much as that log would be ash by morning.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Another shiver rippled down her spine. She didn’t deserve Nick’s thanks after the things she’d done. She didn’t deserve anything but vengeance from him. And in no way should he be thanking her for prolonging his never-ending torture.
Thank you…