Chapter Fifteen
After the men had their drinks and I finished my pancakes, we went to bed. Not together. They showed me to a guest room, then went to their bedrooms to sleep. I was so exhausted that I barely looked at the room, just stripped and got into bed. Cocooned in silken linens and a fluffy duvet, I fell right to sleep.
I woke in the morning, amazed that I had slept through the night. No nightmares had bothered me while I slept. No tossing and turning. I had the best sleep of my life. And I knew it was because three badass shapeshifters from Hell were sleeping down the hall from me. I had never felt safer.
All right, not Hell. Hades. I think they called the Underworld Hades too. That must get confusing for the god. Wow. The god. Was I seriously thinking about gods so casually? But then, after all I'd been through lately, this felt like a natural progression.
“And it makes sense,” I muttered as I sat up. Silas's story never sat well with me, but every word the hounds uttered resonated as truth in my heart. “That might be a bad sign, Indie.” I grimaced and threw back the covers, preparing to be hit by cold air. I wasn't. The guys kept the house at a decadent temperature—warm enough to avoid the morning chill. “Maybe it reminds them of home.” I snorted a laugh as I headed for the bathroom.
And that's when I finally looked at the room.
Even though I had to pee like a racehorse, I froze in my tracks and gaped. It was something out of a fairy tale. Not at all in line with the Victorian theme, the bedroom was more like something I would have dreamed of having when I was a child. If I'd had dreams like that. But a grown-up version of it. The four-poster bed was off-white and crowned with a dome of filigree gold. Over that dome, silk flowers billowed out to trail around each poster. Blossoming vines dangled with them, forming swaths that mimicked pulled-back curtains. In short, it was a fairy bed. How had I slept in that without noticing? And there was more.
Potted plants in white enamel planters carried the lush theme around the pale paradise. Delicate furniture in white and gold was decorated with little pink and pale green flowers. More hints of pink and green came in the form of pillows, curtain pulls, and painted moldings. There was even a chaise lounge—one of those couches you see in old movies. The sort the leading lady drapes herself over. This one had a white fur blanket draped over it instead.
“Oh my goodness,” I whispered, then forced myself into the bathroom. “Oh my goodness!”
An expanse of pistachio marble, gold fixtures, and glittering crystal chandeliers visually assaulted me. Chandeliers. In. The. Bathroom. It felt more like a ballroom with plumbing. I wandered in, my bare feet cushioned by thick bath mats, but even when I strode over the bare stone, I didn't feel a chill.
“Are the floors heated?” I gaped down at the green marble with its misty veins of white. “What in the world?” I looked around. “And where is the damn toilet?”
I found the toilet tucked into a little room as if it had misbehaved and needed a time out. It wasn't the first time I'd seen such a thing, but it always made me chuckle. Rich people couldn't allow the scent of poop to infect their pretty bathrooms. That would ruin the illusion that their shit didn't stink.
I was still grinning when I came out of the toilet room a few minutes later and went to wash up under a swan spigot. Again, I shook my head. It was beautiful, but who wanted to wash their hands with swan vomit? Gross. It reminded me of those fountains of little boys peeing. What kind of sick mind had come up with that?
After the trauma of the day before, I decided a shower was just the thing. I needed to start fresh. But as I stood under the hot spray, guilt rose inside me. I had left Jake. Just ran away. Granted, it was that or get raped by Michael. Michael who was not an angel.
“A ghost,” I muttered. “Why does it sound better to be assaulted by a ghost?”
And then there was the fact that Jake had instigated the whole thing. He hadn't intended on taking it that far, I'm sure, but he did force himself on me. He also stopped. It was Michael who decided it was for the best to keep that crap going. But again, Jake was entirely blameless.
I swiped the water from my face and determinedly soaped up a brand new shower scrubby. The feel of the plastic loops against my skin was just the right amount of abrasive. My brain processed that physical scrub-a-dub as a thorough cleaning, washing away Michael's touch.
“A fucking ghost. Yeah, that feels better in a way. At least it wasn't something holy attempting something evil. But the result would have been the same.”
I looked down to find my hands shaking. Had I thought I was over the attack? Had I thought I could push it aside because it hadn't gone past a torn shirt? The proof of Michael's strength was still there—the way he had overpowered me. I think that was the worst of it. Thank God—all the good ones—that I got away, so I didn't have to deal with the trauma that so many other women went through. How I hurt for them. Truly ached for anyone who had experienced that. Because feeling weak was terrible enough.
We all have our illusions. I believed I was strong. Being a woman had never made me feel fragile. I prided myself on being independent. Strong. Taking care of myself made me believe I could protect myself. I didn't need a man for anything.
Except that maybe I did. And that was crushing. My body had failed me. No. No, it didn't. Not entirely. It had gotten me out of there. I'd been strong enough to escape. But if I hadn't been so fast or lucky, I wouldn't have been strong enough to win against Michael. Telling myself that Michael had supernatural strength helped a little. But the damage had been done. I had lost all faith in my ability to protect myself. And that's a harsh blow for a woman like me.
“Fuck him!” I snarled and got out of the shower. “Fuck that motherfucker and his asshole, manipulative god partner.” I swiped at my body with a towel. “I don't even fucking care who's telling the truth. They did me wrong while the hounds have only shown me respect and affection. And I don't need a man! What I need is a gun.”
I set my shoulders and stared at my reflection. Then I flinched. Not in a bad way, just in surprise. Because I looked good.
“Wow,” I whispered.
I went closer to the mirror and stared at my face. At my body. I hadn't been looking lately. Only a glance in the morning when I washed my face. But now I saw that my face had filled out, the hollows under my eyes were gone, and there was color in my cheeks. I looked healthy. Like my old self. I may not have been comfortable under Silas's roof, but the rest and full meals I'd been eating had done their work.
“Hello, Indie,” I said to myself. “There you are.” I pointed at myself. “And there is where you'll stay. No more weakness. Jake made his choice. At first, it wasn't much of one. Death or service. I would have chosen possession too. But now that he's here, he could at least put up a fight.” I grimaced. “No. No, we will not blame him either. He's a victim, and I still love him. But . . .”
But what? Was that love fading? Was it because of the Hounds of Hades? What a name. The Hounds of Hades. So dramatic. I liked it. I liked them. It felt fickle, but I wanted them. There. I admitted it. In my head, but still, I admitted it. I wanted them. Yup, all three. They hadn't gone over how that would work, but my mind was offering me images that would have made a fortune on any porn website.
And I went wet with them.
“Oh, my.” I stared down at myself.
My nipples hardened, my thighs clenched, and my sex was ready for action. I hadn't felt so aroused since before Jake got sick. No, let's be brutally honest, Indie. I hadn't felt this aroused ever. Not even in the early days of our relationship had Jake made me feel like this. And the hounds had done nothing sexual with me. This arousal stemmed from my fantasies alone.
“You'd better take care of that before you go downstairs,” I said to my reflection. “You'll never be able to face them feeling like this.” Then I blinked. “Shit. What if they have supernatural senses? What if they can smell it on me?” I grimaced, dropped the towel, and headed back into the shower, muttering, “You dirty, dirty girl.” And then I grinned.