8. Sandro
Sandro
R iding back to my home was…
Well, weird didn’t even cut it.
I wasn’t just going back home. I was going back home with a god. Hades, to be exact. Hades, who was claiming I was his Persephone. And we were going home to have…
Let’s just say my day can’t get any weirder.
I just hoped after all this, I’d have my life back.
Well, not back. I’d never had it to begin with. Always subject to this quiet disease that claimed me one day at a time.
We reached Soho at way past midnight, and I waded through the drunks until I got to my home.
“Here we go.” I showed him as I put the center stand on the ground and dismounted.
He inspected the front of my parlor with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. I supposed it wasn’t very homely, or even housely, to a stranger.
There was a narrow entrance shielded by metal shutters I had graffitied with my artwork, a dirty bin to the side filled to the brim with rubbish, and a scattering of cigarette butts from passersby.
Yeah. I guessed it didn’t exactly say home sweet home . But it was all the home I needed.
Was I crazy for taking out a loan at nineteen to open a tattoo parlor in the middle of Soho? Yes, yes, I was. Was I stupid enough to do so from a scammy-as-fuck loan shark? Yes, yes, I was.
I was a lot of things synonymous with dim, but hey, I was dying. If I wasn’t wild now, when was I going to be?
“Bewitchink? What is that?” Hades asked as I undid the lock and the charms around the shutters and raised them.
“That would be my tattoo parlor.” I opened the door for him and waited until he was through to follow him.
There was little need to lock the door to my shop as well, considering the shutters and charms kept unsavory people and critters out.
Hades walked past the wall that acted as a partition between the reception and the chairs and paused.
“You do this?”
I took a big breath and braced for an argument. It had been a while since I’d had to stand up for my art. Since Austin.
“You made those?” He pointed to my face.
I huffed. “Yes. I did. Is that a problem?”
Hades’ eyes widened, and he shook his head as he cut across the small space and took both my hands.
Boy, the god of the dead was really touchy-feely, wasn’t he?
“Problem? No. No problem. They’re beautiful! And full of magic. Just like you.”
I didn’t realize my shoulders were hunched until I dropped them and a trickle of chills grazed my spine.
It should terrify me that his touch was so cold. It should be unwelcoming. Scary. But it soothed me. Even when I didn’t want it to.
“Th-thanks.”
“No thank you needed. I speak the truth.” He dropped my hands, and I was pulled away from the parlor and surrounded by a mist that receded and gave way to a big stained window that looked out into a dark sky and a vast garden that seemed to reflect the light brightly, even if the source of light wasn’t visible to me.
A figure appeared behind me, tall and domineering, and wrapped their hands around my shoulders, squeezing me tight and planting kisses down the side of my neck.
It was equal parts spooky and comforting because it felt so familiar but, at the same time, so alien. My head pounded from the warring feelings, and I was tempted to touch my temples, but I didn’t seem to have any control over my limbs.
Before I could even look back at the owner of the big, strong hands or determine where the hell I was, it all faded away, and I found myself back in my shop.
Hades was oblivious to my vision or the fact I had goosebumps on the side of my neck where the figure had kissed me, and he walked toward the chairs, running his fingers over the red leather, the art books, the vials full of magic ink, the pens.
“It should surprise me that you’re so…creative in this life, but then again, you always were. Even in the ways you tortured the souls in Tartarus.”
A bitterness wetted my tongue. I didn’t know why. It kept coming up and only getting stronger when he spoke of her . The way he compared my life to hers. The way he held on to those memories.
Maybe I had been her once upon a time, maybe not. I didn’t know that. I guessed I never would. But whoever she was, she was not me. She’d died a long, long time ago. And I was me.
“Yeah, well, this is nothing like torturing souls,” I said, which made no sense, or all the sense, but I didn’t care.
I just want him to see me .
I shook my head.
I had no idea where that had come from. I didn’t care if he saw me. I just cared that he saved me. That was all I cared about.
“Oh, I’m sure it is, my love. You’ve got talent,” he said.
And dammit, now I felt bad. I didn’t know why, but I did. It was something about his words. They carried with so much love they tainted the air.
Hades turned with a big smile and took a deep breath.
“So much magic. In this room, and…” he approached me again, grabbed my hand, and ran his fingers along my arm. “On your body.”
Everywhere he touched left a trace of ice along my skin that burrowed deep and awakened senses in me that were unfamiliar, that I couldn’t even begin to explain.
Was that my soul reacting to its soulmate? Could I believe all that? Could I believe I had once been Queen of the Underworld?
“I don’t think I ever met a witch who was so ingenious. And believe me. I’ve judged a lot of them.”
“Thanks.” I managed to stutter and brushed my hair behind my ear.
It was nothing I hadn’t heard before. Compliments for my invention. But it felt more than coming from him.
I felt…
On top of the world.
Like a queen.
Dammit. Now I think like I’m her too.
“It was…it was nothing really.” I pulled away from him, and the act hurt something in me I couldn’t define, but I couldn’t stand it anymore. The way he made me feel. “I just realized if you crush the spellstones and mix them with a binder and water solution, it acts the same way as a dye. Then, I had to test if the spell still worked, and it did. It doesn’t even hurt when you cast an ink spell. It’s quite simple, really.”
Hades’ eyes burned me with their intensity, but as I’d come to find out, it wasn’t the typical kind of heat. More like an ice burn. Cool at first, then it torched my insides.
“You speak of intricate things as if they’re not so. Believe me, my Sandro, if it was that simple, someone else would have done it before you. But there’s nothing simple about you, my love. Nothing.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know that I’m the first. Just the first I know of.”
“It matters not. You’re very talented.”
“I’m not?—”
“Hey.” He hooked his finger under my chin and lifted my head so that I could meet his gaze again. “You are. I don’t think I know many gods or humans who could paint the skin as wonderfully as you do.”
Now he was just sucking ass, but I’d be damned if I didn’t like it.
“Thank you. I…I’m glad you think so.”
We hovered in front of each other, the space between us so cold and charged I feared another ice burn.
The more I looked into his eyes, the bluer they seemed to get. The more alive.
Is that a fire blazing in them, or am I imagining it?
He leaned closer, and I held my breath. His lips parted ever so slightly as he drew closer, and they enveloped mine.
Even if I wanted to move now, it would be impossible.
The air in my lungs seemed to turn crisp on contact, and the chill of his kiss traveled across my body, freezing me on the spot, bringing every muscle to life, and my cock twitched at the sensation.
He moved so slowly it was as if time had slowed around me, but it hadn’t. He was just taking his time in tasting me, as if I was something to savor. Yet it only teased my guts, which somersaulted inside me, desperate for him. Desperate for more.
Every subtle move of his lips felt like a peak, and every swipe of his tongue like a tumble off the highest rollercoaster, sending my soul spinning out of control. My eyes rolled back, and I felt the pounding from earlier. A dense burning smell infiltrated my nose, and even though my eyes were closed, a fog appeared in front of me. Images appeared so fast I couldn’t even tell what they all were. And yet, despite the dizzying slideshow that should have made me queasy, I felt…good.
Better than good, actually.
If that’s what happened when he kissed me, what on earth would happen when we did more? Could my poor, weak heart even handle it?
When he finally drove his tongue into my mouth and deepened this moment, my knees buckled, and I almost collapsed.
Only reason and logic kept me standing.
And yet, with every nudge of his tongue against mine, he pulled something more out of me, out of the depths of my core.
Maybe I truly was his queen. Maybe he was my godmate.
There was only one way to find out.
I somehow managed to put a shaky hand on his chest and push gently, and Hades stopped. He pulled away, and it was as if he stole my breath with his lips.
“Sh-should we take this upstairs?”
“Of course, my love.” His voice was hoarse. As if I’d had the same effect on him when there was no chance in hell I made him feel like he made me feel.
It was easier to believe the illusion when he was touching me. When he was kissing me. But when we were apart, I could see the reality.
Hades was in love with the theory of me, the idea of who I was. He didn’t like me. And how could he? I was a small, sick boy, decorated from head to toe with tattoos to cover up just how ugly I was.
If people focus on the tattoos, they won’t pay attention to the man underneath.
I pulled farther away from him, if only to find my senses and forget the haughty shit he’d filled my head with.
I wasn’t a queen. I wasn’t a god. I was dying. That was all there was to it.
I pulled the shutters down, reactivated the lock charms, and without looking at him, proceeded to the back of the parlor, toward a set of steps that ended at a door. Behind it were more stairs.
My flat was small, boxy, and comprised three floors. One for the living room and kitchen. A small one for the bathroom. And one for the bedroom. It was nothing to write home about, but my favorite part was above that. The roof terrace. The place where I’d spent many days and nights in Pluto’s company, staring at the stars and wishing on a cure. But none of the falling stars ever granted my wish.
None until now, I guess.
As soon as we entered the cramped and messy living room, Pluto appeared and ran from end to end wagging his tail, claiming back his space.
He even attempted to eat and drink from the bowls I hadn’t yet had the strength to dispose of, but all he got was air.
“I’m sorry,” I said, half to him and half to Hades. “My place is a mess.”
The phone I’d given Hades, the burner for my loan shark, beeped.
Hades glanced at it but didn’t say anything.
“What did Tao say?”
Hades shook his head. “Nothing. That it’s cozy.”
I rolled my eyes. As if I believed that.
“It’s a dump. I know. But it’s home.”
I started to throw my jacket on the floor but thought better of it and instead threw it over a chair.
“It’s not. And even if it is, it matters not to me. All that matters is you .”
Oh yeah. Here we go again.
I didn’t look at him. I was afraid if I did, I’d start believing the lies again. I just wanted to live. I didn’t need to buy into the rest. There was no reason to.
“So…what? Do we just ‘do it?’ You said there was a ritual.” I collapsed on my sofa.
Nothing like being in your dump of a home to forget all about queens, godmates, and such bullshit.
I was still dying, and I highly doubted any of that would change after tonight.
“There is. But it’s more of a ritual that happens during.”
“Oh.”
Pluto came up to me and nuzzled his head against my chest, but it only went through me. Nevertheless, I felt it all the same. Or maybe it was the memory of it that I felt.
“Do you…would you like some time? Are you okay?”
“I…I’m not. Not really.” I forced myself off the sofa and lifted clothes and papers off the coffee table until I found the little plastic bottle. “I will be once I take these.” I shook it for Hades’ benefit.
“What are they?”
Just one more thing that was wrong with me.
“Mood stabilizers.”
As I popped two in my mouth and swallowed them dry, Hades crossed the room and took me in his arms.
“I promise that after tonight, all the troubles and woes you’ve been through will be over, my love. You won’t have to suffer ever again.”
The cool embrace shook my head into place, and once again, I believed him when I knew I shouldn’t.
I didn’t say anything. I just let him cuddle me, knowing full well he was picturing someone else in his head and not me.
“Tell me when you feel ready. We can wait until tomorrow if you want. If you need the rest.”
I shook my head.
“I don’t have the time to waste.”
This was it. I was about to have sex with the god of the Underworld.
My fingers started to twitch, and I didn’t know if it was the pills or the nerves.
“Maybe give me a minute?”
He let go of me, and I tried to compose myself, but every time I did, I thought about what we were about to do and how it was my last hope.
After this, if it didn’t work, there was no salvation.
I collapsed back on the couch, but my fingers were still restless and there was only one thing that could ease them.
I reached for the box under my coffee table, took the rotary pen out, inserted a new needle, and started drawing.
The green ink colored my skin as I drew lines across my arm and down my hand, filling in the vines I always kept on me. It stung, but that was part of the appeal. Part of the process. Even the tickle of the magic as it seeped into me, mixed with the vibration of the pen, exhilarated me. It was a high, my high, and there was no other like it. And believe me, I’d tried more than my fair share in my search for a cure or relief.
I went over existing tattoos—unused spells, as of yet—and over bare skin. And I did the other sleeve too. The more green ink, the better. The more protection, the better.
When I was done, my arms were covered in more branches and a lot of emerald-tinted cobwebs, and Hades was sitting across from me. I hadn’t even noticed him. He was staring. His face as relaxed as mine felt.
“What?” I asked when he didn’t stop.
“Nothing.” He smiled. “I’m just admiring your work. You’re so beautiful when you paint.”
There they were again. The somersaults.
But I didn’t let them fool me. I had to keep my body and my head grounded.
This was my last chance. And I needed it to work.
I couldn’t allow my mind or body to lull me into a false sense of security. Into a dream of eternal romance.
This was just another attempt to do the impossible.
That was all.
“I’m ready.”