Zagreus set his wine down. “The nymphs were good, but we’re going to need to step things up. I want to see progress. Lykos, you’ve more knowledge of the nymphs’ secret talents than I. Which one can get the job done?”
Lykos relaxed back into his chair, but fire still brewed in his eyes. A fire seared with the promise of retribution. “Nesaea,” he said, answering the prince but continuing to stare at Cynna. “She’s shown a high pain tolerance. I think she likes giving as much as receiving.”
Zagreus chuckled and cut another bite of bloody meat. “I know a female like that myself.”
That was all Cynna could take. She couldn’t sit here a minute longer and put up with Lykos’s venomous looks or listen to the various ways he and Zagreus were going to use the nymphs to break Nick or continue to ignore either of their derogatory comments directed at her.
She pushed back from the table. “If you’ll excuse me.”
Zagreus’s utensils stilled over his plate. “You’ve barely touched your dinner.”
Her gaze flicked to Lykos. “I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.”
Zagreus sat back and considered her. “You worry me, agapi. I do not like to be worried.”
She hesitated. The last thing she needed was any kind of extra attention from the Prince of Darkness. But what concerned her most was the look in his stormy dark eyes. A look she’d seen before but tried to ignore. One that hinted of some kind of vulnerability. Of a whisper of…humanity.
Which was an asinine thought. There was no humanity in him. He was a devil. One spawned from Hades himself. One who took great pleasure in pain and craved only torture. Finding something…anything…redeeming in Zagreus only signaled just how far he’d sucked her into this mind fuck.
Working to relax her jaw, she forced the contempt from her voice when she said, “No need to worry. I’m just tired. I had a rough night.”
That look lingered in his eyes. Only this time she saw a flash of…
No, she had to be wrong. The Prince of Darkness couldn’t possibly feel guilty for what he’d done to her last night.
He blinked, and the look passed. As if it had never happened. Reaching for his wine goblet, he said, “In that case, I suppose I can let you go. This once.” He glanced her way and winked. “Rest up, my love. I need you in tip-top shape for what is yet to come.”
Cynna’s stomach rolled, but she forced herself not to answer. Turning out of the dining room, she told herself she was just tired; that was why she was seeing things that weren’t there. She moved through the stone doorway, heading for the circular stairs in the middle of the compound that led to freedom.
No, not freedom. A miniscule respite from hell. Something Nick would never have.
The suite was dim when she stepped inside and closed the door at her back, the only illumination from the underwater window casting that blue-green shimmer of light across the floor. Her room was one of the larger ones in the compound. It had the same rock walls and ceiling as every other room, but it was softer, more feminine, and she knew Zagreus went to great lengths to keep her well pampered.
A plush white carpet lay across the stone floor; a king-size, distressed, white four-poster bed sat along one wall. Her sitting area was comprised of two oversize chairs and a long couch—also done in white—and along the opposite wall were her books. Books from all over the world. Stories of adventures and romance and mysteries she often read to unwind. Stories that took her away from this nightmare and gave her something else to think about. To dream about. To want.
But that was all they were. Stories. They weren’t real. There was no such thing as happily ever after. She knew that better than anyone.
Pushing away from the door, she crossed the floor and turned into her closet. Like the rest of her suite, it was grand, rows and rows of clothes Zagreus rewarded her with for good behavior. Half of which she’d never worn. More corsets and slutty skirts and foot-cramping stiletto boots? No, thank you.
After unzipping her current torture shoes, she tossed them aside, tugged off her skirt, and managed to unlace the air-constricting high-necked corset enough so she could shimmy out of it. She ripped off the thick bracelets she’d worn to cover the marks on her wrists, kicked it all aside, not caring where it landed, then moved into her bathroom.
She flipped on the water and stepped under the shower spray. Closing her eyes, she drew in a deep breath, then let it out again as the hot water pounded her skin. Aside from her books, this was the only pleasure she got in this place. But even that tiny bit of relief was dimmed when she thought of Nick again in the dungeons. He had no relief there, no chance for respite, not even an ounce of hope to get him through to the next day.