Chapter Twenty
The glass felt cool, heavy in my hand. I swirled the brandy, watched it cling to the sides like dark, liquid gold. The office was silent, save for the raucous sound of distant revelry that seeped through the walls. My desk, a vast expanse of polished ebony, bore nothing but the crystal decanter and Paige’s dossier, open at her photo.
I leaned back in my chair, the leather creaking under my weight. The night had unfurled precisely as planned. The Ball, the dance, the so called kidnapping had all gone smoothly, and the ritual itself had been… delicious. She’d played the role to perfection, all purity and innocence, even her cries of pleasure were sweet and beguiling.
The Reapers had been entranced, watching every move she made up on that stage as we corrupted her beautiful body for the first time and I couldn”t help but feel a surge of pride. I had chosen her, plucked her from obscurity and placed her at the heart of our world.
”Perfect,” I murmured to the shadows. Her acceptance into our fold had been seamless, a testament to her allure and the club”s hunger for something... pure. She”d been captivating - a vision of delicate innocence swept up in our dark world. I could still taste the salt of her skin, still smell the floral scent of her hair. It wasn”t every Reaper”s Ball that a virgin as lovely and unspoiled as Paige Matthews graced our stage, and the depravity that had begun when she left the room was evidence of that.
The music from the feasting room pulsed like a living thing, its base throb echoing through the walls of my office. The decadence beyond that thick oak door had reached fever pitch—the sort of primal debauchery that would make lesser men blush. But not the Deadmen. And certainly not me. I was born of this chaos, sculpted by it.
With Paige”s induction, something in the club had awakened, a hunger that had been lying dormant. Nate had whisked her away, but she had already become the catalyst, igniting the kind of revelry that blurred the lines between flesh and desire, power and surrender. I could hear the laughter, the moans, the clink of glass as toast after toast was made to our new Persephone.
The taking of Persephone was a rite as old as the club itself, based on the ancient Greek myth of Hades claiming the beautiful young maiden and whisking her away to his kingdom in the underworld where he kept her prisoner until she agreed to be his queen. In the first few hundred years of the Deadmen’s Club, a young local girl had been chosen by the club’s Hades, then kidnapped and kept within the clubhouse without any knowledge or consent, but thankfully, we had moved into the twenty-first century and now consent was a crucial detail. It was why the girls who played our Persephones were invited to apply, and why the contract was checked by some of the highest ranking lawyers and judges in the UK. However our rituals and rites appeared, underneath, everyone was a willing participant.
My eyes fell to the dossier in front of me. It held Paige’s detailed application form and the contract she”d signed when she’d been accepted as a potential candidate for the year, before she’d even set foot in Blackvellyn. Each year, the applications piled up, each girl vying to be our Persephone. My eyes roved over the forms, the careful vetting process we”d instituted. It wasn”t enough to want it; they had to be right for us, for the club. One wrong choice, one slip, and the balance would tilt into chaos. The names that went along with the club were too important and too well known to be attributed to any kind of scandal. Aside from that, the Deadmen were interestingly superstitious. Despite being made up on the sons of the most esteemed and wealthy families from minor aristocracy as well as sons from the most prominent banking, business and political families in Britain, the rites of the Deadmen”s Club, and other clubs linked to ours, set the tone for the whole year. The club was a living entity, evolving with each new Persephone and she had to fit, to stir the blood of the Deadmen, or else the year would be marked by discord and unrest.
I leaned back, the leather chair creaking in protest, and took a long drink. The Deadmen”s Club wasn”t just a fixture of Blackvellyn — it was the heartbeat. From boyhood, the tales of the club were whispered in our ears, the importance of what we were inheriting etched into our very bones. It was more than tradition; it was a covenant stretched tight across centuries and it was our legacy. It was a part of us, etched into our skin, both a gift and a curse. The club gave us purpose, power, but it demanded sacrifice in return. Nate, Tristan and I knew that better than anyone. We’d only been teenagers when the weight of the club’s secrets fell on our inexperienced shoulders in ways we all still struggled to deal with. It had brought the three of us together, bonded by something stronger than blood. For better or worse, the Deadmen”s Club shaped us, moulded us into the men we became—the men we were expected to be by those who had gone before. Standing at the precipice of control, the thought was both exhilarating and suffocating.
But now, Paige. She was the chosen one, the latest to join the ranks, to enter the game. It all hinged on her—on our choice. And I couldn”t afford doubt, not when so much was at stake.
The brandy burned a path down my throat, its amber heat a momentary refuge. I poured another and my fingers tightened around the glass, the brandy untouched. It was a rarity, allowing myself this moment of reflection, but tonight warranted it. The taste of power was sweet on my tongue, almost as sweet as the memory of her taste. I should have been satisfied, relishing in the success of the evening. But a part of me craved more - not the brandy, not the power, but her. There was a fire within me that only she could stoke, a dark desire that clawed at my insides, urging me to claim what was now mine by right and ritual. But not yet.
Paige”s photo stared up at me with innocent blue eyes. It was three weeks to the day when my father and Nate’s had come calling. It was quite common for past members to visit the Underworld, sometimes they even came to witness the rituals as guests of honour and stayed to join in the revelries. What happened in the Underworld was as dead to the world as the corpses many of these men left in their wake, though never here. The club and the university was sacred ground. My father was not one of these men. He was a businessman through and through, and while he liked tradition and accepted there were certain types of people one could not avoid doing business with, he’d never come to a social event at the club while I had been a member. This time, he had come to check on a couple of financial things with me, and to share a brandy.
Nate’s father had tagged along, being in the area, he’d said. He”d rifled through the dossiers with a predator”s interest. ”She”s the one,” he”d said, amusement lacing his tone when his gaze landed on Paige”s file. His laughter was a sound that never failed to send a shiver down my spine. His eyes, those cold, ruthless eyes, had glinted as he looked up at me from the dossier.
”It”s not your decision to make,” I”d reminded him, my tone cutting through the thick silence.
His laughter had ceased abruptly. ”I”m just giving you friendly advice. She”s got something... unique,” he”d said, tapping Paige’s file with the end of his cigar. ”Pauline’s daughter. Think you can handle her?” He asked me then. His tone was casual, but the question was a gauntlet thrown down. A test I was meant to pass - or fail.
I had given him nothing more than a nod, the ghost of a smile on my lips, but the memory soured in my mind, mixing with the brandy and the unsettling feeling of being manipulated. Nate’s father had always given me the creeps as a kid, and even as a grown man, his presence unsettled me in a way I could never put my finger on. I had thought as my height surpassed his, and the hours working out had given me the body of a strong and powerful predator, that I would feel less ill at ease in his presence, but it had never changed.
My father knew of my feelings about the man, and had admitted he didn’t particularly like the man but insisted that Lord Carver was not someone you wanted to fuck about with, and that whatever he was, he was loyal to the Shadow Syndicate, the umbrella organisation that the Deadmen’s Club was a miniscule part of. It was an organisation that stood outside of national or international law, controlling interests in business, finances, politics and crime across the world. A group of shadow men who ruled the world through their dark spider webs of influence, murder and intelligence. This was my destiny. Nate’s and Tristan’s too.
”We all have our roles to play, Bast,” my father had told me many times, his dark eyes sombre. ”You must not let personal feelings cloud your judgement. Remember, we are judged by the strength of our alliances as much by our own actions.”
His words echoed in my mind as I thought about my most recently made alliance and the way she’d come apart under my tongue. I smiled at the memory. We chose our Persephone, not them. No matter how much they hinted or prodded, no matter how much they thought they could control us. Paige was our choice, and our woman. No one else was allowed to touch her. At least, for the rest of this year. After that, she could be whoever she wanted to be with the money and connections the club would give her.
I frowned as I thought back to the ballroom, and the man she had been dancing with when I’d cut in. I’d recognised him immediately as the guy she’d been talking to in town that afternoon, and cursed myself for not knifing the sneaky bastard when I had the chance. My jaw tightened, thoughts swirling as I remembered the way his hands had been on her, proprietary, confident. As if he had a right. As if he were more to her than a fleeting dance partner. I loathed the idea of anyone else touching Paige.
A low growl rumbled from deep within my chest. I rose abruptly, the chair scraping against the stone floor as if reflecting my agitation. Pacing around the office, I tossed back the rest of the brandy in one go, letting the liquid fire course down my throat, injecting a semblance of calm into my raging thoughts. First thing tomorrow, I’d have a Reaper track him down and… no, on second thoughts, once I found out his name, I might pay him a little visit myself and explain the situation. I wanted to make sure he was real clear on who Paige belonged to from now on.
My grip on the glass tightened. Ownership wasn”t just business; it was primal. Paige now belonged within the club”s—within my—realm. The thought of another man”s gaze lingering on her, his hands possibly tracing the curves I had claimed, ignited something raw inside me. It was an intrusion, a challenge that demanded a swift response.
I remembered how she looked tonight, suspended on the wall, the soft glow of the candles flickering across her vulnerable form. Her chains had not just bound her; they symbolised a transformation—a surrender to the darkness of the Deadmen”s Club. She had been enticing in that position certainly, but chains were more Nate’s thing than mine. I preferred my girl on her knees, crawling to serve me, my every whim, her total desire. Ultimate submission.
I smiled. I didn’t think it would take me long to break Paige. I would have her crawling at my feet before Christmas. A shiver traced my spine as I imagined her kneeling before me, eyes lifted, the defiance that so intrigued me melting into wanton acceptance. Yes, that would be a sight to behold, a victory sweeter than any conquest my father could engineer.
The memory of her skin lingered on my fingertips and her taste in my mouth, not even chased away by the brandy. The way she had come apart under my tongue had even my iron control wavering. I could have chosen to take her then. It was my right, as Hades, but there were more nights ahead, more trials, more rituals, and that moment would be much sweeter after she had the time to anticipate it. After she had been taught to pleasure me the way I wanted her to. After she learned to crawl for me. I had a feeling she would be worth the wait.
I jerked up in my chair as the door suddenly swung open without a knock. Tristan stuck his head around the door, face serious.
”Nate”s losing it. Outside. Now.”
I was on my feet in an instant. Nate’s steel control over himself and his emotions was rival only to my own, but I had known him a long time, and every now and again, something came out of the darkness of his past to haunt him once more. His panic attacks weren’t new to us, but he would be uncontrollable if he thought anyone other than me and Tristan had seen him vulnerable.
”Where”s Paige?” I snapped, as I followed Tristan into the hall.
”Bedroom,” he shot over his shoulder.
I followed Tristan down the hall till we rounded a bend and came on Nate sat with his back against the polished panelling, his chest heaving, his fists clenched at his sides.
”Shit.”
”Nate,” Tristan called, reaching out to touch his shoulder. Nate flinched, eyes wild and unfocused.
”Easy there, mate.” I said, sinking onto my heels in front of him. ”You”re not back there. You”re here. With us.”
Tristan crouched down beside him, speaking in low, soothing tones. But Nate didn”t seem to hear him. His breathing was too fast and too harsh and his eyes had an unfocused, haunted look about them. He was somewhere else entirely, caught in the grip of a memory that refused to let him go.
”Get him to the office,” I commanded, my voice tight.
Tristan nodded and gently tried to coax Nate up. But he was resistant, his body stiff as if locked in battle with unseen demons.
”Damn it,” I muttered under my breath. This corridor wasn’t often used, but it wasn’t private either. Anyone could come down this way and see Nate in this state.
I nodded to Tristan, and we moved to each side, hauling him up between us, he might be a couple of inches shorter than me, but the man was broad shoulders and all fucking heavy muscle. We half-dragged, half-carried him down the hall to the office, panting all the way. We lowered Nate onto the leather chair nearest the door. I closed the door and locked it.
”Look at me,” Tristan insisted, leaning close to Nate’s face. ”Focus on my voice.”
I watched as Tristan”s words cut through the chaos. He was the calm in our storm, always had been. Even when the darkness threatened to swallow us whole.
”Deep breaths. In... out...” Tristan demonstrated with a steady rise and fall of his chest.
Nate struggled, his breath hitching, but slowly the rhythm took hold. His shoulders loosened, the sharp lines of panic smoothing from his brow.
”Good, good,” Tristan murmured. ”You”re here with us, safe.”
Nate nodded.
I grabbed the decanter and poured him a large one. Nate”s hand was trembling when I handed him the glass.
”Drink,” I said, and he didn”t hesitate.
”Paige? Is she ok?” I asked, seeing he was nearly back to himself.
Nate”s eyes met mine and he shook his head slowly.
”Fuck.” Tristan had just sat down but his chair scraped the floor as he bolted up towards the door.
”Wait,” Nate”s voice cracked.
Tristan paused and I sat down in front of Nate, leaning forward.
”Talk to us, Nate.”
”Paige...” Nate took a deep breath, his voice now nearly back to normal. ”She didn”t know, Bast. She said she never signed anything.”
I stared at him, and the room stilled around me, like it was frozen in time for a moment.
”What?” I finally said, though it was more to make sure I”d heard him right.
”She had no idea what was going on tonight. She says she never signed anything, never applied to be Persephone.” Nate swallowed and looked up at me, eyes usually as hard as steel now filled with doubt and shame. I had never seen him look like that. ”Bast, she didn”t consent.”
”Never signed?” Tristan”s voice shook slightly as he crouched next to Nate. ”But that”s... how could... Shit. That means we...” He looked up at me, eyes wide.
I shook my head, and walked over to the desk. I picked up the dossier we had on Paige Matthews and shoved it at Tristan. ”It”s bollocks. She”s fucking with you, Nate. We”ve all read her application, all seen her signature at the bottom of the contract. We vetted her.”
Nate shook his head. ”No, she”s not. She-”
”Paige is playing us,” I cut him off. ”I don”t know why, or what she stands to gain from this, but she”s certainly playing us. Well, you. My gut told me she was too smooth, too perfect, during the induction. It”s all an act.” I picked up my glass and tossed back another brandy, sorely tempted to refill it again.
Tristan shook his head. ”But if she”s not acting...”
”Then she”s a damn good liar,” I said, setting my glass down with a thud that echoed in the tense silence.
Nate glared at me, that familiar steel look back in his eyes that would have lesser men crumbling under his gaze. ”Walk down that hall and into that bedroom. Look at her, Bast. She was utterly terrified.”
”Terrified or not,” I said, feeling the edge in my own voice. ”She signed the contract. She wanted this. There”s the application form and her signature.”
Nate shook his head. ”Something”s not right here, Bast. I”m telling you, that girl has no idea what”s going on and what we just did to her in front of everyone-”
”Look at it!” I demanded, stabbing my finger at the looped signature at the bottom of the page. ”It”s all there, every detail she filled out herself. Her clothes measurements, her fantasies—things only she would know. She”s the only one who could have filled it out.”
Tristan shook his head. ”Nate”s right, something”s wrong here. Maybe she thought she was applying for a different type of position, or maybe she didn”t understand what she was getting into...”
”Impossible.” I stood, towering over them both. ”The contract is very clear. We”re meticulous. We don”t make mistakes like that.”
”Except maybe this time we did,” Tristan said, and I could hear the quiet fear threading through his words. ”And we-”
”Stop.” I cut him off, my words slicing through the air. ”Nate”s being played. We”re being played.” I couldn”t entertain the possibility that Nate was right. I wouldn”t. The contract was meticulous, drafted by the best lawyers in the country, and she had signed it. That was all I needed to know.
Nate glared up at me. ”She”s not like that. She”s genuine. I know it. And what we”ve done to her...” He couldn’t finish the sentence, the weight of the implication crushing the breath from him. I wouldn”t even entertain the idea. It was her, all her and I”d had enough.
”Enough!” I banged my fist on the desk. The sound reverberated through the room like a gunshot. ”We vetted her. She was chosen. She agreed. This innocence act doesn”t wash with me, and I”m surprised at you, Nate. One taste of her pussy and she has you completely whipped. Get a grip. You want the club to see you on your knees because some little girl turned the waterworks on?”
I sat down and leaned back, the leather chair groaning under my weight. My fingers drummed a staccato rhythm on the mahogany desk as I glared at Nate. I had no idea what the fuck was going on and I didn”t like it. I had everything under control, and now it felt like that control was slipping away and I didn”t like it one bit. That girl had signed the contract, signed her life away for a year. It was binding, and I was not about to let a few tears and regrets ruin everything.
Tristan sat down and sighed. ”We should talk to her. All of us. Hear what she has to say, and make a decision then.”
”What decision?”” I asked. ”There is no decision. She applied, she signed, she bound herself to us for a year. If she backs out, I will fucking ruin her life. It wouldn”t surprise me if this is a little revenge plot to try and get back at our families for what they did to her parents. Either that or she is simply too weak. I knew we should never have chosen her. But if Paige thinks she can get away with it, she”ll get one hell of a shock, because no one fucks around with us.”
Tristan shook his head. ”We don”t know everything. Maybe there”s more to it. She never once mentioned the club to me, never brought it up. I don”t like this, Bast.”
I sighed. ”Fine. I”ll talk to her, and then I”ll make my mind up. I am the Hades after all. I was the one who did all her background checks, and went through that application with a fine tooth comb. If I missed something, she can point it out to me.”
”What if she”s right?” asked Nate. ”What if the application is fake?”
Tristan stared at him. ”Who would fake a Persephone application? And how would they know all those things about her?”
I poured another brandy, and topped up the guys’ glasses as well. ”I think you”re falling for the sweet little innocent act, but I”ll talk to her and look into her claims. I can”t think of anybody who could fake those kinds of details, even down to her sexual experience and fantasies. Everything”s there. And the signature matches her application forms for the university, if someone”s faked it, they’ve done an amazing job, but the more pressing question is, why?”
”To set her up? To fuck with her?” suggested Tristan. ”But I can”t think there could be anyone who would hate her that much, she”s just so nice.”
”Well, if someone has set her up, then I intend to find out who and we”ll deal with them then. But if I”m right, and she”s fucking with Nate”s head, then its her I”ll be dealing with, and I will not be as understanding as the two of you. She will certainly regret trying. Now, if you”ll excuse me, I will go and have words with our little Persephone.”