Chapter Thirteen
A heavy, rhythmic thumping snatches me from dreamless sleep.
At first, what I think I’m hearing is just my neighbors getting busy putting the bang in gangbanger— but then my cumulonimbus-filled brain registers the sound as the door.
As soon as the last of the painfully tense dinner courses with Sebastian and the Rox Boys had ended, Zeus had kept his promise—whisking me away while the after-dinner digestifs were still being served.
Surprisingly, I’d been permitted to leave both the table and the Symposium with nothing more than a clipped reminder that Dominic would be in touch regarding my report. I might’ve treated that too-easy dismissal with a lot more suspicion, had it not been for the Little Drummer Boy headlining his own rock concert from behind my temporal lobe.
As it were, Dio had practically needed to carry me back to my room at the Delphi—a neutrally-owned and operated Underworld hotel whose Symposium guests were shielded by the law of Hospitium until checkout time on Monday morning.
Six mini-bar bottles of vodka. Apply head directly to pillow. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.
Now, for some reason, I’m being forced unwillingly into consciousness. All while I still have both an information hangover and an actual hangover.
With a pained groan, I roll over and reach to wake my phone.
10:51pm.
Uggh. The fuck?
I’m still dry swallowing a handful of Tylenol when the pounding sounds out again, only louder. This time, the noise is obnoxious enough that it whips those last lingering brain clouds into a full-blown cell system.
I swear to fuck it better not be Dionysus. Not when the man has key access and strict instructions that include no booty calls before midnight.
Snatching up my copy of the room key with a muttered curse, I stomp over, ready to scan open the secure door and gift whoever’s interrupting my battery recharge with a striking new asshole.
I’m not exactly sure who I was expecting when I yank back the handle, but it most certainly wasn’t the guy I so brutally hit and quit just yesterday.
Yet there he is—blond surfer curtains falling across a troubled brow as he white-knuckles the top of the doorframe. There’s an oddly disquiet air about him, like the taste of ozone on your tongue right before a storm.
And fuck.
Me.
His mask is gone but he’s still wearing that fucking corset.
“Hermes,” I breathe, trying to whip my features back into something resembling blatant disinterest. Then he leans forward, and suddenly ‘disinterest’ is the last thing on my mind.
The move stretches every one of his visible muscles in the most obscene ways possible, bringing him so close that we’re practically sharing breath.
It would be so fucking easy just to give in and meet him all the way. Dig my nails into his shoulders. Run my tongue over that small cluster of violets tattooed over his heart. Bite those candy nipples until they’re red and swollen.
But what I see lurking behind his freckled, hazel eyes gives me pause.
It’s the same thing I’ve been seeing there all night.
Something wild .
And hurt.
This is the third time in only twenty-four hours I’ve been faced with this haunted look of his. Trying to banish the image doesn’t seem to help either; it only seems to pinch at something else instead. Somewhere deep behind my sternum, and with cold, probing fingers that remind me of Sebastian.
Talk to me about the Rox Boys.
“You left me,” he states in an unnervingly flat tone.
I forcibly swallow, trying my best to ignore the ache in my skull.
And my chest.
“At the beach? Yes, and I did try to warn you.” The words feel paper-thin as they leave my mouth and I push my tongue against the inside of my cheek, trying to stave off the weird ache of it.
He must have known the likelihood that his coming here would end in rejection. And still, he hunted down my location and sought me out.
“That you don’t do feelings?” Hermes prompts, more defensively this time.
The echo of Midas’s poison joins Sebastian’s frost. Made any new friends?
“Don’t,” I lift my shoulders in an exaggerated shrug, “won’t.”
Can’t.
Uncertainty still crowds his expression, but there’s a ghost of a crooked smile when he insists impishly, “But you already broke one of your rules.”
“What rule?”
“About high school boys.”
This guy.
I need to remember that he’s just a mission. That he was just about to have dinner with the Donato twins before being swept in by Sebastian’s bullshit. That in reality, I barely fucking know him—him or his friends.
But there’s just something so innately... familiar about him. Like when a song comes on the radio that the DJ insists is new, but the melody is one you just know in your bones that you’ve heard somewhere before.
I’ve been convincing myself it’s just because he’s got the same easygoing personality as Dio, but that niggling itch in the back of my head has got me wanting to ignore all the warnings.
And to keep digging deeper.
So, instead of doing the most logical thing and closing the door right in Hermes’s face, I step back, opening it wide in silent invitation.
At first, he lingers at the threshold, his fingers curling against the doorframe like claws as narrowed eyes bounce between mine. His wickedly handsome face is still painted with all the same misgivings he arrived with. But then I see the moment he makes his decision, and as his resolve begins to solidify, it drives out that lost look completely.
When his arms finally drop back to his sides, his face splits with one of those devilish grins that I’m much more accustomed to seeing there.
It’s almost like watching the sun breaking through the clouds…or some shit.
Oh my god. Who the fuck even am I right now?
It’s just a stupid face on a stupid boy.
A stupidly pretty face that I maybe enjoyed having trapped between my thighs yesterday.
That’s all .
I need to get a fucking grip.
With his mind made up and confidence restored, Hermes shoulders straight past me, sauntering inside my hotel suite like an insouciant prince and throwing himself down in the middle of my hotel bed. It looks as though his jacket and shoes didn’t make it back with him from the Symposium either.
Lacing his fingers behind his head, the cheeky fucker smirks up at me like he’s won something. He sighs dramatically. “Don’t you ever get tired of always fighting the inevitable, Wifey?”
His words have me bristling, but I’m not even touching that pet name right now.
One battle at a time.
I scowl at him as I stalk back over to the bedside table. It’s ridiculous how fucking hot he looks right now, and he clearly knows it. He takes the opportunity to flex his lower abdomen, sending an answering shudder through my pelvis.
“Move the fuck over,” I grouse, trading my keycard in for my phone. He proceeds to make a show of inching back, deliberately leaving me with only enough room to fit up against him. He crooks his arm and pats the meager space he made just for me.
Asshole.
When he still refuses to move, I’m left with no choice but to lay shoulder-to-shoulder with him on the narrow mattress. As I drop down beside him, Hermes immediately curls himself around me like a cat, nuzzling into my neck.
“ Dude ,” I huff.
“You love it,” he purrs. Actually fucking purrs .
Dio had helped me Houdini my way out of the gown and into one of his huge tees before I shooed him out the door. Now my exposed skin feels volcanic wherever it connects with Miller’s. The velvety ribs of his corset are molded against the forearm that’s trapped between us.
He is right though. I don’t… totally hate it.
“Whatever,” I frown at him, trying to stave off the amused smile that’s threatening my mouth with its violent uprising. I busy myself with pulling up my unread messages.
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS
8:33PMME
Don’t plan on me being conscious anytime before sunrise
8:33PMME
PEACE
9:01PMKNOX
9pm check-in
Apparently Boss knows about your off-book cleanup @ RA. Z about ready to go over the table
9:02PMKNOX
Boys left 10 min ago
9:03PMDIONYSUS
9pm Check. All clear. Cutest sleep face ever
9:04PMKNOX
Man, Rhett
I can’t be your pallbearer
I just got my nails done
9:06PMDIONYSUS
Lies. You’ll cover me because I got all the Zaddy tea
9:06PMKNOX
…
8in? Were you fr?
9:07PMDIONYSUS
Easily
9:08PMDADDY ZEUS
Nope, my is now off limits.
9:08PMDIONYSUS
Cut the man some slack. Blue balls are no joke.
9:10PMKNOX
Exactly!
I’m just demanding reparations, Boss
10:00PMKNOX
10pm check-in
2IC will be @ RA on Wed re: 12 Labors
10:01PMDIONYSUS
10pm Check. All clear.
As I finish reading my Crew’s ridiculous text exchange, I can’t help but grimace. Dominic will be at Rox Academy as early as Wednesday.
But then I catch the time, and snort, realizing that it’s almost the top of the hour. Time for the Enforcers to check in again.
Perfect.
Dio answers my video call with a disconcerted look on his face. “You’re awake already?”
“Yes, no thanks to you,” I chide, angling the screen so he can’t miss the Hermes-shaped leech currently plastered to my side. “All clear, my ass, D-man.”
The call instantly drops.
“I waited until he left to piss,” Hermes confesses against the side of my throat, and a hiccuping giggle bubbles through my nose, burning my nostrils with anticipation.I lay frozen then, ignoring the urge to card my fingers through the curls that tickle my cheek, until not two minutes later—when there’s a telltale beep followed by a schnick as my so-called Enforcer lets himself in.
I sit up to meet him, my six-foot, human-sized poncho lazily following my lead.
Dionysus’s face holds nothing but wicked satisfaction as he comes through the door, duty weapon out and trained directly on the tattoo over Hermes’s heart. To his credit, Miller doesn't so much as bat an eyelash.
“I already told Apollo this shit wouldn’t fly.” He toes the door shut behind him, his smile wide and mocking as he adds, “She kicked you to the curb just yesterday, and you’re here pestering her again already?”
“ Jesus Christ ,” I hiss, rising from the bed to play referee, but Orbison only sidesteps me, keeping us both in his line of sight.Exasperated, I step closer and smack the barrel down, angling it toward the floor.
“Such a fucking flirt,” I scold him.
His smirk only deepens.
“Pretty sure there are rules against this sort of thing,” Hermes says airily.
After another intense staredown, D grunts once before flicking the safety on and slotting his handgun back into its holster. “ Fucking Hospitium ,” he mutters as he begins shouldering the whole kit off, but it’s without heat.
At the sound of Hermes moving across the bed behind us, I turn back around—only to catch sight of him mid-crawl, blond locks falling haphazardly over his face and taut ass high in the air.
Dio and I groan in stereo.
“Have you two been formally introduced yet?” I ask my bodyguard, who’s now heading over to the weapons safe in the corner of the room. Partygoers may not be able to enter the Symposium itself armed, but no such rules apply outside its doors. We just can’t readily maim the other guests.
No matter how annoying.
“Not…officially,” Hermes answers for him, cocking his head as he eyes the older man with interest. He’s now perched at the end of the mattress, sitting back on his bare feet.
That has my brows rising.
When would they have met… un officially?
Wait.
Who’s the guy from the warehouse? Hermes had asked me last night. I’d assumed he was just talking about following us out from the diner that day. Dionysus had clocked their GT slinking after his Lambo right as we left the school.
“Did you enjoy the show?” D asks him cryptically, and smug as fuck.
“The hell does that mean?” I demand, eyebrows now right at my hairline.
Neither man seems inclined to elaborate, and in the interest of keeping things moving, I decide it’s time to channel my inner game show hostess instead.
“Well, then—Dionysus, this is Hermes,” I begin with a flourish of my hands in the direction of my recently acquired bed guest. “He’s also a professional chaos pansexual. The two of you will get along quite famously, I’m sure.”
“Oh, I’m sure, ” D agrees with a throaty chuckle between the sounds of velcro tearing and magazine catches releasing.
“And this here is Dionysus,” I say, watching with satisfaction as they run equally hot eyes over one another, “he’ll be your ruin today.”
Those unruly, golden curls flare like a halo as Hermes’s head snaps back in my direction.
“ If you’re a good boy,” I add, pointedly.
Dio chokes before covering it with a barked laugh.
“I’ll be the best fucking boy you’ve ever had,” Hermes moans in agreement, hands steepling before his naked chest like a supplicant.
Eager and ready to worship.
And we’re ready to help him find his religion.
“Strip,” I bark and he leaps up to obey like I just shot him in the ass with a TASER.
Dionysus makes a sound of approval, moving to stand with me by the foot of the bed. “These first,” he instructs, hooking a finger into the waist of Hermes’s ass-hugging pants. He snaps the band. “Fuck, look at that ass. They look painted on.”
Again, Hermes doesn’t hesitate, peeling them straight down his long legs with practiced grace. To no one’s surprise, he’s gone commando—leaving him naked but for that goddamn corset, its curved edges following the defined lines of his hips.
He’s painfully hard already; the glistening head points eagerly toward his belly button.
“ Naughty ,” I tsk loudly, taking a moment to circle him and admire the way the muscles across his back dance beneath my hot attention. Inspection completed, I slide my palms around his trim waist, pressing myself right up against the pert ass I was just admiring. “I thought you said you were a good boy, but you’re already making such a mess,” I scold him.
Hermes sucks in an excited breath at the contact, his abdomen contracting sharply when my hands begin to explore. The right takes a leisurely journey northwards, fingers tiptoeing up the corset’s soft velvet boning before tracing along the length of his sternum. Meanwhile, the left is busy mapping the dusting of hair still partially hidden by his waist trainer—and then across each sharp angle of his pelvis.
Stroking. Caressing.
By the time one palm settles against the strained cords of his throat, the other around the base of his leaking cock, he’s an absolute quivering mess: skin hot, breaths short, pulse hammering beneath my fingertips.
“Beg for it, baby, and we may just make you into that sandwich, after all,” I murmur against his jaw.
And then, with both hands—I squeeze .
Hermes immediately arches against me.
“Oh, fuck . Yes . Yes, please ,” he whimpers, Adam's apple vibrating against my palm with each desperate word. “I’ll clean up every last drop. From both of you. I promise . So clean, no one will even know I was here.”
“We’ll see about that,” I hum. “Now this ,” I continue, tugging at the corset. “As much as I love this on you, I need you out of it. Completely.”
Hermes preens at my praise, tracking me closely as I move to face him again. Tanned fingers stroke the length of fasteners, before carefully revealing the taut muscles of his abdomen—one popped fixture at a time.
The trainer drops to the floor.
“ Dio, get rid of that penguin suit and find the lube.”
“ Yes , ma’am,” he rasps, immediately stripping off the jacket and getting to work on his shirt.
“And you—you’re going to put that talented tongue of yours back to work,” I tell Hermes as I prepare to undress myself.
I pause with my fingers teasing the hem of my sleep shirt. The shower I had before crawling into bed had already washed away my concealer. If I take this off now, all my tattoos will be on display.
Dionysus must read the conflict on my face. “Cat’s already out of the bag, doll,” he says softly, down to only his dress pants.
I mean, he’s not wrong. They saw our masks tonight. They witnessed me at Sebastian’s side. If they didn’t believe my claims before, it’s only a matter of time before they’ll be forced to. I nod, lifting it over my head and rolling my shoulders back.
Hermes’s gaze immediately roams over what he can see of my tattoos, wrapping around my upper arms and peeking over my shoulders. It remains assessing until it snags on my dual nipple piercings and his lips part. “Where have those been hiding?”
I let out a small, strained laugh. “Needed to keep everything above the waist covered to stay incognito,” I offer, cutting my eyes to Dio, who tilts his chin down. “But like he said, cat’s out of the bag.”
Hermes nods, but then his eyes drop further, zeroing in on the matching patterns Zeus left along my lower hips. “Are those…bruises?” he asks. There’s nothing but curiosity in his voice, but for some strange reason, I find myself covering the marks with my hands.
I feel oddly protective of them.
“Okay, no more shop talk,” Dio growls, kicking away his boxers. His cock bobs aggressively when he straightens up to his full, keenly muscled, and heavily tattooed height.
I have to bite my lip at the strangled whimper Hermes lets slip at his first eyeful of a completely naked Rhett Orbison. “See? Ruin and damnation, six ways to Sunday.”
For once, D doesn’t stop to indulge my playful teasing. “Alright babygirl, get your cute little ass on the bed. Need you soaking my face.”
Sounds like a plan to me.
“Hey, no, wait! She said I could go down on her,” Hermes protests with a whine that I really shouldn’t find so fucking cute.
“I don’t think so, little boy. You can wait your fucking turn, maybe even pick up a few pointers.”
“I don’t need any fucking pointers, I had her screaming on m?—”
“Boys!” I interject loudly with a sharp clap, earning myself a matching pair of sheepish looks. The apples of Hermes’s cheeks are now an adorable shade of pink. Dio scratches the back of his neck.“There is no reason for the two of you to be bickering about something so easily resolved.”
I mean, the solution really is that simple. I wait for the lightbulbs to go off.
“Gonna a flip a coin?” Dio jeers. “Fuck that, I’m calling seniority.”
“Honestly, D, I’m disappointed in you,” I chastise. “Use your other head.”
His scowl only deepens, so, with a wide sweep of my hands—and all the airs of an Underworld imperatrix —I generously propose: “You can both lick my pussy."
“ Fuck. Yes, ” Hermes moans, at the same time as Dionysus grunts, “Works for me . ” Without warning, the Enforcer scoops me up and throws me back onto the bed. I let out a wheeze as I bounce twice, and as soon as I manage to settle back against the pillows—I sigh, happily.
Work smarter, not harder.
The guys follow closely behind, each of them stalking up the length of my legs like two big cats. When they both reach my thighs, I let them fall open. Two sets of eyes glue themselves to the finger now tracing the neatly trimmed strip leading down to my pussy.
“Hungry?”
“Always said your cunt should count as one of the essential food groups,” Dio muses, propping a cheek onto his fist. He runs his tongue along his lower lip.
“I feel like I should be saying grace first,” Hermes adds, in perfect sync with the eternally charming, shit-talking asshole lying across from him.
Fuck, there’s two of them.
I roll my eyes at them both, but Dionysus isn’t even close to dissuaded. “ Amen ,” he breathes against my clit before licking a languid stripe over puffy lips—adding to the prominent wetness that’s already in real danger of becoming a permanent state of affairs.
To all the lingerie I’ve loved before.
Before his tongue can even manage a full circuit, it’s joined by Hermes’s eager strokes. At first, he seems happy to follow Dio’s lead, helpfully teasing and caressing. However, it’s not long before the two of them fall into an oral battle for dominance.Their tongues begin to war, each of them expertly slashing and dancing and tangling.
“ Don’t fight, boys, there’s plenty to share ,” I think I say, but my eyes cross and I don’t even know if the words quite make it out of my mouth. Any headache I might’ve woken up with is now nothing but a distant memory.
Undeterred, they clash with my clit.
With the inside of my cunt.
With each other.
Finally, the two of them take their skirmish south to the rim of my ass.
My hands shoot out, spearing through two sets of equally thick, sun-kissed hair. Gripping on for dear life, I do my best to absorb every blessed detail of the sights and sounds before me.
Two blond heads working in tandem.
Their names on my lips—hovering there like a whispered benediction.
A vision.
A fantasy.
A new addiction.
The orgasm their antics wrestle from me is of the type that rearranges the psyche. A molten heat floods my pelvis, causing every muscle in my thighs and abdomen to seize at once; jackknifing my spine like a damn stomach crunch.
It’s aggressive, raw, and all-consuming.
And it’s one thing I definitely won’t mind reliving over and over again.
Amen, in-fucking-deed.