Chapter Twenty One
Steam curled around me, the heat from the bath seeping into my pores, but doing nothing to thaw the chill of fear that had settled deep in my bones. I sank deeper into the water, trying to wash away the surreal horror of the induction ceremony. The petals floating atop the surface seemed an absurd contrast to the darkness that clung to every thought. I closed my eyes, and images filled my mind — dancing with Tristan and then… Hades… at the ball, waking up here and being cuffed to the wall and then… I shoved those thoughts away, my heart already starting to pound harder at the memories, and not for the reason it should be pounding. I should be more afraid, I told myself. They forced me, they assaulted me… and yet Nate had insisted they thought I had consented. He’d seemed pretty sure too.
”Consented,” I whispered to the empty room, tasting the word on my lips as if it were some bitter pill. How could anyone believe I would agree to such degradation? They’d exposed me to the whole room, and done those things to me - why on earth would have I agreed to that?
Because it felt amazing, a thought whispered into my mind. No. I pushed it away. I was not some easy girl they could seduce. I had self respect and discipline and even if I didn’t, that was still way way out of line. No one should ever feel ok about being assaulted in front of a room full of men. More than ok. A shiver ran down my spine, not from the cooling water, but from the memory of mouths sucking on my nipples, of tongues lapping at my pussy, of fingers pushing inside me, and my face began to burn. I hadn’t chosen it, any of it, but if I had agreed, had signed this contract Nate seemed convinced I knew about, what then? I didn”t even want to contemplate what that would make me. I closed my eyes, the memory vivid and unrelenting. Bound, exposed, the cold wall at my back a stark contrast to the heat that had flooded my veins. Fear had gripped me, yes, but beneath it—something else. Something darker.
My breath hitched, recalling their hands, their eyes upon me. A shiver ran down my spine, not from chill but from the shameful realisation that there had been pleasure amidst the panic.
”God,” I gasped, sinking deeper into the bath, wishing the water could cleanse more than just my skin. The fear had been real, but so was the arousal—unexpected, undeniable. I slid down under the water, closing my eyes and holding my breath, wanting the heat of my body to dissipate into the water around me. I’m disgusting, I thought. Disgusting little slut, enjoying being degraded like that. The thought even danced across my mind in my mother’s voice. She’d been insistent on protecting my innocence from the start. She’d ranted and raved about saving my purity for my husband, and although I knew she was way over the top about it, I still couldn’t shake that sickening shameful feeling that rose up any time I felt any kind of sexual desire. I shrank back into the past, feeling the walls of my childhood room closing in.
The idea that a part of me craved the exposure, the vulnerability—it was mortifying. Could I be so starved for sensation, for rebellion against the pristine image I was forced into, that I”d find excitement in such darkness? No, that wasn’t me. I wasn’t like that.
I started to scrub at my skin, using the flannel and the liquid soap I found on the side, as if I could scrub away the stain on my soul. A delicious scent floated up and I glanced at the bottle. Dark cassis and pomegranate. It looked expensive, but I knew the guys could definitely afford it, so I lathered up, and even used it to wash my hair. I knew I probably didn’t have much time till Nate got back and I wanted to be dressed by then, regardless of the fact he’d already seen me naked. I tried scrubbing harder, as if the touch of those men could be unetched from my body, but no amount of soap could purify the taint of arousal that clung to me like a shadow.
I climbed out of the tub and wrapped a soft black towel around myself, drying off my skin, and using another smaller one to wrap around my hair. I headed back to the thankfully still empty bedroom, and rooted around in the dresser Nate had shown me. There seemed to be an interesting collection of lace lingerie, none of which I was going near, despite his reassurances that they were all brand new, but in the second drawer down I found a pair of black silk pyjamas. There seemed to be little else that would give anywhere near as much coverage, so I put them on, pausing for a moment to enjoy the luxurious feel of them against my skin. Whoever had done the shopping certainly had good taste, and a decent budget.
I sat down at the vanity, and finding a hairbrush in the top drawer, began to tease out the tangles in my damp hair, as my mind turned over the night’s events. I had called Nate a monster, and he’d seemed devastated by my words. Had they truly not known I was unwilling? And if they’d thought I wanted it, why drug me and kidnap me? One thing I knew for sure was that if there was an application and a contract with my signature on it, I wanted to see it. And if it was there, and someone had faked it, then what?
What they had done to me in that room, I could go to the police. There were witnesses after all, a whole room of them. But then, this was a society full of elite young men, all connected through their wealth and status. I might be innocent, but I wasn’t completely naive. It would be my word against theirs, and I would lose. Then again, if the three guys had genuinely believed I had consented, then it wasn’t really fair to blame them either. Calling them monsters when they truly believed I had sought out this twisted fantasy. I felt so confused, and utterly exhausted.
”Paige?” I looked up to see the leader of this macabre circus moving into the room.
His voice was a low rumble in the quiet room, and I stiffened, the brush pausing mid-stroke. Hades stood in the doorway, his tall frame filling the space, his eyes a study in unreadable darkness.
”Didn”t mean to startle you,” he said, though his measured tone suggested otherwise.
”Then maybe try knocking next time,” I replied, my voice steadier than I felt.
He stepped closer, and I fought the urge to retreat. His presence was a tangible thing — oppressive and all-consuming. But beneath the fear, a traitorous warmth began to unfurl within me, a reminder of desires I dared not acknowledge.
”Silk suits you,” he observed, his gaze not missing a single detail.
”Is that why it was in the dresser? Part of your induction gifts... Hades?” My hands clenched around the brush.
”Maybe. And here you can call me Bast.”
“Bast?”
“Sebastian Blake. Bast for short.” Ah, Tristan”s other housemate.
He shut the door quietly behind him, and my breath caught in my throat at the thought of what he might be here to do. The room was shrouded in shadows, the only light spilling from an ornate lamp that cast a warm glow over the luxurious furnishings. My heart pounded, echoing the turmoil swirling inside me like a storm.
I stilled, and he moved closer, his very presence intimidating. He might be devastatingly handsome, but there was a cold edge about him that had me feeling nervous. He stepped closer, and motioned for me to turn around and face the mirror. For some reason I couldn’t fathom, I did as he said, my eyes fixing on him in the mirror as he came to stand behind me, even though I didn”t want to acknowledge the power he held just by being there.
”Stay,” he said, not a request but a command, as though I was some stray dog he’d found. My irritation bristled under my fear and I went to get up again, to rebel against him, but his hands came down warm and strong on my shoulders, pressing me down onto the seat.
“I said, stay.”
“I”m not a dog,” I glared at him in the mirror.
“No, indeed. In fact, with your cunning, I’d definitely say you were more cat-like,” he remarked, leaning forward to pick up the brush I had been using. With careful movements, he began to untangle the knots in my hair.
”Stop,” I whispered, uncomfortable with how close he was. I could feel the warmth of his body brushing against my back, and I didn”t like the strange feeling in my belly at the thought of it.
”Relax, Paige.”
”Relax?” I met his gaze in the mirror, a flicker of defiance sparking despite myself. ”How can I relax when you... when all of this...”
He didn”t stop, his fingers deftly moving through my hair. I felt the strangest sense of surrender wash over me. The bristles glided through my long strands with unexpected gentleness, coaxing out the tangles left from earlier turmoil. I couldn”t reconcile this tenderness with the man who commanded such fear in me before, who still intimidated me.
”In my office, I have your application.”
My eyes snapped up to meet his in the mirror. ”Application?”
”Your birthday is the 26th of February. You”re a virgin. And your darkest fantasy...” He leaned in closer, his lips grazing the shell of my ear as he whispered words that painted my cheeks with heat. ”...is being chased down and raped.”
I stiffened. “That”s not true.”
“Which part?”
“The… fantasy. I would never have written that.”
He continued to brush my hair, though the tangles were long gone. “That’s a shame. I would have enjoyed making that particular fantasy come true.”
Dark eyes met mine in the mirror, and my face flushed red.
”Who are you?” The question came out choked, my usual defiance dissolving under his calculated gaze.
”Someone who knows you more than you might care to admit,” Bast replied, his fingers tracing the line of my jaw, sending a jolt of electricity through my veins.
“You”re already treading on thin ground, considering what you and your friends did to me earlier, without my consent.”
“Without your consent?” Bast shook his head, his fingers starting to rub over my scalp. I fought the urge to purr with pleasure. “I told you, I have your application you filled out in detail, as well as your signed contract in my office. You consented to this, Paige. All of it. And so much more.”
More? The idea sent shivers of dread, and the slightest sliver of excitement through me.
”I never filled out any application,” I whispered, my voice a shaky contradiction to the firmness I sought. ”I didn”t even know this place existed until...”
”Until you were brought here against your will?” Bast”s voice was low, sceptical, as he set the brush down on the vanity with a soft clink. The sound seemed deafening in the thick silence that followed.
”Exactly.”
He watched me in the mirror, his eyes fixed on mine, like a hawk studying its prey, but his fingers remained firm, rubbing away the tension at the base of my neck.
”Tell me, Paige,” he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the thick air, ”do you know anyone who could orchestrate this? Someone who knows you intimately enough to fill out such a detailed application in your stead?”
I shook my head, strands of my damp hair clinging to my cheeks. ”No, I—I can”t think of anyone.” My words sounded small, even to my own ears, lost amidst the dark opulence of the room.
”Think harder. Someone who knows your fantasies, your fears... who would want to see you here, at the mercy of strangers?”
”I don’t know, but it definitely was not me. I never filled out that form.” I met his gaze defiantly, even as his fingers inched down the sides of my neck. At the mercy of strangers. I certainly felt at his mercy right now, though the way my body was reacting to his touch, I wasn’t sure his mercy was what I wanted from him. My eyes moved to his mouth, as I remembered the way his tongue had danced over my clit, and I bit my lip as a jolt of desire flooded me.
Bast pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and set it in front of me.
I picked it up, my hands fumbling slightly as I unfolded it.
”See for yourself.” His tone carried a weight that suggested I wouldn”t like what I found.
I stared at the page, not really reading, just seeing my name scrawled at the bottom. It looked exactly like my signature, but how?
”That”s not possible.”
”Yet there it is.”
My eyes darted over the elegant script summarising the terms of submission and servitude for the position of Persephone at the Deadmen’s Club. At the bottom, in a flourish that was unmistakably my own, lay my signature. A cold tremor ran through me as I traced the looping letters.
”This is impossible,” I whispered, looking up at Bast.
Bast”s eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze penetrating as if he could peel back the layers of my soul with just a look. ”I don”t believe you, Paige. The application is thorough. Every detail has been checked, cross-referenced, verified. It”s all correct.”
My heart pounded as his fingers trailed down my collar bones dipping under the silk of my pyjama top before moving back up my throat.
”But I”m telling you, it wasn”t me!” Frustration knotted in my throat, every fibre in me straining against the accusation.
”Then someone knows you very well. Someone who can forge your hand extremely convincingly. If you”re truly not lying, Paige, then someone went to great lengths to harm you.”
”Me?” My voice cracked. ”Harm me how? Why?”
”More than just you. They clearly aimed to damage the club as well. Setting you up as a victim. Who would believe sweet, innocent little Paige would apply to be Persephone? No one. You would be, in your view, assaulted, and then when you were released, would head straight to the police where you would, quite rightly, accuse me and the members of the club of assault.”
The room suddenly felt smaller, the walls inching closer. That was exactly what I had planned to do. I looked down at the signature on the paper, it was definitely mine.
”Who would—” I started, but no name came to mind. No one I knew held such a vendetta, or would be this cruel.
”Think, Paige. Anyone in your life with a grudge? Someone who knows you intimately enough to forge this?” His eyes searched mine.
I shook my head. ”No one… I don”t understand. Someone really wanted to hurt me this much, and I have no idea who they could be.”
”Then we have a problem.”
I took a deep breath and laid the paper on the vanity, watching him in the mirror. “No, we don’t. I don’t understand why anyone would do this to me, or to the club, but it ends here. I won’t report you. I’ll just leave, you can find someone else for your… club.”
”It”s not that simple,” he said, his hands drifting to my shoulders, rubbing his fingers digging into the knots, and I closed my eyes.
“Why not?” I asked. He moved closer as he massaged me, and I felt his body press against my back again, his heat searing through the thin silk I was wearing. I knew I should pull away but with all the stress of the night and now this revelation that there was someone who wanted to hurt me, someone who knew me well, I needed the comfort he was providing.
”You”ve been publicly inducted.” His voice held no room for argument. ”Leaving isn”t an option.”
My eyes flew open. “But that wasn’t my choice. And I was masked the whole time.”
Bast nodded. “You were masked, and no one except myself, Nate and Tristan knows your identity, but the roles of Hades and Persephone are steeped in tradition, centuries old. We vetted every woman who applied and there were many. You were the choice, and we cannot revoke that choice, the club forbids it.”
I shook my head. “Why do you care so much? It’s just a university club, it’s not important.”
He inhaled sharply, his hands tightening on my shoulders. “The Deadmen’s Club isn’t just another university society, Paige. Nate, Tristan and I, we’ve been raised to lead this club. It’s one of the entry ways into the Shadow Syndicate, and a lot rests upon the club being successful this year.”
“What’s the Shadow Syndicate?”
He hesitated a moment before explaining. ”An organisation with influence in governments, corporations, and organised crime.” His eyes burned into mine. ”Every ritual we perform is part of a larger strategy. One misstep, one deviation, and the consequences...” He trailed off, letting the threat hang unspoken.
”And you expect me to believe all that rests on...me?” Disbelief warred with a strange sense of importance.
”Believe what you will.” Bast”s voice was low and tense. ”But know this, if we screw up the year”s rituals, it”s not just me who pays the price. Every man here—”
”Is bound by tradition?” I cut in.
”Correct.” His affirmation was a sharp nod. ”And they”ll suffer for it. It”s more than social standing or tradition, and it means more than simple superstition. If the club doesn’t do well, every man here could lose everything, some even their lives.”
”Because of me?”
”Because of whoever put you here,” he corrected, and I could see the truth of it in his eyes. It wasn”t just about power or control; it was survival—at least for him and the men of the club.
I sighed. “I don”t understand. You want me to… what? Stay here and be your live in prostitute or something?”
Bast gave me another one of his cold smiles, his fingers tracing slowly up and down my throat. “Not exactly. The role of Persephone is one of honour. The three DeathKnights are Hades, and his two seconds. This year it’s me, Nate and Tristan. We choose one woman to share. To serve us, entertain us. It keeps our focus sharp for the crucial year ahead at Blackvellyn.”
A chill traced my spine. Share? Like property?
“Sounds like slavery to me.”
“It”s voluntary… normally. And it’s more complex than it seems. Think of it as... a girlfriend experience. With benefits. Expectations will be there,” he continued, his gaze never leaving mine. ”Sexual, yes. But it”s not just about that. There will be rituals, performances within the club. Public ones, like tonight.”
My stomach twisted, remembering the eyes on me, the hands. The heat that flushed through my body despite—or because—of the fear.
”Like some sick show?”
“Like the demonstration of everything the club stands for.” His hand wrapped gently around my throat, holding me still and his other hand trailed down between my breasts. I sucked my breath in, but said nothing as I watched him lean in. “This is what we are, Paige. Pain, pleasure and above all, power. The power to command. The power to seduce.”
His hand moved round to cup my breast and I saw my nipple harden in response, clearly visible through the silk. I blushed and I tried to turn my head away, to not look at the evidence of my own arousal, as he toyed with it through the thin fabric.
“Shame doesn’t suit you, Paige,” Bast murmured, his lips tickling down the side of my neck. ”Your body is reacting... trusting even when your mind resists. You should let yourself be free.”
”Free to be... used?” I couldn”t keep the bitterness from seeping into my tone.
”Free to explore. To feel. To be alive,” he countered, his touch growing bolder.
”Alive,” I repeated, the word resonating within me as his hands roamed over the silk, hinting at the heat underneath. My body responded despite the confusion, the lingering disgust. It yearned for the freedom he spoke of, even if my mind rebelled against it.
”I can”t.”
”Can”t or won”t?” Bast”s voice was like silk.
”I”m not... that type of girl.” The declaration felt hollow, even to my own ears.
A pause, and then he leaned closer. In the mirror, his eyes locked onto mine. ”You say that, yet I saw you out there, Paige. Amidst the fear, I felt your body respond.”
My cheeks burned, betrayal flush on my skin. ”That doesn”t mean anything.”
”Doesn”t it?” he pinched my nipple harder and I gasped at the flood of heat.
His lips drew close to my ear, sending shivers down my spine as he spoke. “You might have been afraid, Paige, but you loved every minute of it. I know you did, because I tasted each delicious drop of your desire.”
“I…” I closed my eyes, as his mouth moved over my skin, sucking and biting at me, one hand still wrapped around my throat, the other cupping my breast.
“Say yes, Paige. Be my Persephone. Be ours.”