Chapter 12
RHI
The dining hall doors violently slam shut upon Nick’s departure, even though he hadn’t raised a hand towards them.
Lingering dinner guests mutter amongst themselves, and I don’t miss the wary glances they cast my way. At least, they appeared wary initially. Now, there’s a strange sliver of reverence in them, and I cannot fathom the fuck why.
Only Isadora continues to glare at me with undiluted hatred. Her dark haired friend, however, smiles exuberantly at me. I’m saved by having to awkwardly smile back when Baal sidles up to me.
“I bet you dinners aren’t this exciting in Hades’ realm.” He holds out his arm for me to take, and I understand I’m to be escorted back to my room. I swallow my disappointment at having to wait another day to speak with Nick; who knows if I’ll be invited to another dinner again?
“I’ve never seen someone react that adversely to a dessert, that’s for sure.”
Baal and I are the last to exit the dining hall, and I note his pace is deliberately slow.
“I certainly have never seen such a look of disdain on his Majesty’s face.” He pauses and side eyes me. “Yet you seem to have known that was exactly how he’d react.”
“I did not,” I answer defensively—too defensively.
“Then why did you tell Raph he wouldn’t like it?”
I resist the urge to clench my teeth at the name. “I had a…gut feeling.”
Baal throws back his head in laughter. “Gut feeling? Is that what they call telepathy in the Underworld?”
Telepathy? He thinks I’m a mind-reader? Ha. If only.
“Have you ever played chess, Lord Baal?”
He frowns, and I can tell the redirection throws him off. “Of course.”
We turn a corridor and begin climbing the winding stairway to my room. “So then you are aware chess requires a certain mastery of reading body language and facial expressions to anticipate your opponent’s next move?”
Baal pauses and faces me. “Just how good are you at chess?”
“More than decent,” I offer. No need to play all my cards just yet. “His Majesty’s distaste for the dessert was written all over his face and evident in the way his body shifted further into his seat rather than toward his plate.” I shrug, as if it were all that simple.
Every single thing I told him was true, despite the fact that I know Nick hates Jello.
It was the first thing he’d told me when I asked him to tell me about himself.
Gods, that feels so long ago, almost another life.
The boy he was then is a stark contrast to the man I’d come to know these past months, first during our push and pull when I tried keeping away from him and then once we’d found our way back to each other and I accepted him as who he really was: the King of Hell.
Even so, he smiled at me with a rakish grin and hope in his eyes.
I’d give anything to witness that smile again.
Baal pauses by my door, and a curious sheen washes his features. Mouth curled in a smirk, he bids me goodnight, muttering something to himself about “this should be good” before he disappears down the stairs.
My own suspicion growing, I tap into the Scylla, listening for any intruders. Strangely, I’m met with silence, even though Aurelia and Mira usually await in my room, helping me to undress for the evening.
Slowly, I open the door, peering inside before I step fully over the threshold. Nothing appears to be amiss. That is, until I take three steps towards my bed, and Nick manifests from the shadows like he was crafted from them.
I open my mouth to scream, if only because he startled me, but his right hand covers my mouth with viperine swiftness while his left hand settles on my hip, pinning me in place.
“Shh,” he croons. “We wouldn’t want to alarm any of the other guests on this floor, would we?”
I shake my head, keeping my eyes locked on his.
Even in a position such as this, which should be construed as threatening, my body eases into his touch.
Of course, it wouldn’t sense danger, and neither would my Scylla.
They know this man. My body has memorized his touch and only comes alive beneath his fingers.
My soul knows him, in whatever realm, whatever body he inhabits.
And gods, as the King of Hell? The raw power he exudes is the sweetest ambrosia, his arrogance enticing.
My monster preens at his dominance, wanting to both challenge him and submit.
It’s why I fought him tooth and nail in that room earlier.
Riling his own monster only serves to placate mine, and gods, if I don’t love every savage stare and powerful press of his hands.
“If I remove my hand, do I have your word you will not scream?” he asks.
I nod, and Nick steps back, stealing away the warmth his body provided. He places both hands behind him at the foot of the bed and leans backward, exuding that same arrogant indulgence from earlier.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
Nick tilts his head. “How did you know?”
“I don’t understand what you’re asking.”
A muscle in his jaw ticks. “How did you know I wouldn’t like that ghastly dessert?”
I fight a smile. It took everything I could not to burst into hysterics when he practically vomited the Jello onto his plate.
“I have no idea—” He cuts me off by roughly grabbing my face between his fingers. That fire rages within me, the one that can’t wait to knock him down a peg, yet the heat that pools low in my abdomen is evidence of an entirely different inferno.
“Remember what I said about lying to me,” he growls.
I arch a brow. I remember quite well what he said about lying, how he practically drooled when I asked him if he would have only my tongue.
Still, there’s a lethal fury simmering beneath his skin, and I best not tempt the Devil…
Even if it feels so fucking good.
To my shock, Nick releases me, but not before tossing some silken fabric in my direction. I catch it effortlessly.
“Put it on,” he commands, taking his place by the foot of my bed once again. This time, he sits on the edge and folds his arms.
The silk in my palm unravels to reveal my nightgown. I scoff, throwing the garment right back in his face.
“If you want to order someone around, I suggest you go visit your betrothed.” My attempt to walk past him is halted when he reaches up with that absurd swiftness and collars my throat, rising from the bed.
“And if you want to see that precious lover of yours again, I suggest you do as you’re told.”
It’s you, I want to scream at him, but this is where I reach an impasse.
To make it seem as though I no longer care discredits my reason for being in Hell in the first place.
I rip the nightgown from his hand, and Nick releases me.
He resumes his earlier position, settling down comfortably, as though he’s about to indulge in some entertainment.
I mean, I suppose he is.
Holding his golden stare, I drop the nightgown to the floor. Then, I reach behind to start undoing my laces before I think better of it.
Turning so that my back is to him, I sneak a subtle glance over my shoulder.
“A little help?” I don’t bother to confirm he’ll acquiesce.
In the whisper of a heartbeat, I feel him behind me, one hand resting gently against my waist and the other pulling at the laces of my corset.
His lithe fingers trail down my spine as each lace comes undone, and I tremble at the brush of his skin against mine.
“Done this before?” I ask him.
I can feel the smile in his voice as he says, “Once or twice.”
His fingers freeze at the base of my spine, my words striking the chord I’d aimed for.
Remember, I plead; I hope.
But sadly, things are never that easy. His absence leaves a chill in its wake as I no longer feel his body behind mine, and his fingers disappear from my flesh.
Holding the dress aloft with one hand, I let it fall to the floor, delighting in the strangled sound escaping Nick’s throat.
I’d worn absolutely nothing beneath the gown.
Slowly, I turn, and his expression strips me to my core.
Raw, primal lust wars with pained recognition.
His eyes leave a scorching trail in their perusal, starting with my lips before they dip toward the column of my throat.
They linger at my breasts, dilating with desire, then drop between my thighs.
His mouth parts, the knuckles of his bronzed hands a ghostly white with how hard he grips the footboard.
Still, he says nothing, not until I reach for the nightgown.
“Don’t.” A single, solitary command.
No. A plea.
My body burns beneath his gaze. Nick has always been able to stoke a fire within me just from his stare alone, and arousal pools between my legs with each passing moment.
“Say something,” I whisper shakily. Gone is my earlier bravado. How can I be anything other than a quivering mess when the man I love, who I thought gone from me forever, stands before me now, worship in eyes and pleasure at his fingertips?
“It…” He chokes, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows roughly. “It fucking hurts to breathe when I look at you.”
Before I know it, his mouth is on mine. My knees nearly crumple beneath me at the familiar taste of him, at the feel of his lips and mouth and tongue entwining with my own, something I thought I’d never again experience.
But Nick lifts me effortlessly, groaning as I wrap my legs around his waist. He walks several steps before I hear the clattering of glass and tins falling to the floor and he places me atop my vanity.
His mouth never once leaves mine. I cling to him in desperation, afraid to lose him, afraid to lose this moment.
Finally, he breaks the kiss, only to move his lips to the tender area below my ear, the one he seems compelled to find.
One hand winds into my hair, arching my head back to give him better access to my throat.
Nick’s other hand expertly fondles my breast, his thumb sweeping across my hardened nipple, and a pleasurable moan spills from my lips.
“I know this body,” he says against my collarbone.
His mouth travels lower until his lips wrap around my other breast, sucking the nipple into his mouth.
I gasp, tangling my fingers within his dark, luscious curls.
“How the fuck do I know this body?” Nick bites down, using the fangs I know all too well, then gently laps up the blood with his tongue.
His hard cock presses against my bare center, and I roll my hips to create some friction. The feel of fabric between us is a fucking nuisance, and, blinded by my lust, I reach for the ties to his breeches.
A tug on my hair has me pausing, and Nick removes his warm mouth from my body.
I nearly scream in protest, but the wicked gleam in his eyes keeps me silent.
The hold he still has on my hair forces me to look up at him while my chest heaves, my body trembling in illicit anticipation as arousal leaks down my thighs.
“You want my cock?”
I lick my lips, knowing damn well he wants a verbal response. “Yes.”
Sure enough, his answering smirk is nothing short of sinful. “Then say my name.”
His name, his real name, is on the tip of my tongue, and gods be damned, I almost say it.
I shove him away, using a bit more strength than necessary, but Nick merely steps back as though it was of his own accord. I remain seated on the vanity, panting, exposed to him in every possible way.
I lower myself and race toward the bed, grabbing the top sheets, which I use to cover my body. When I turn, Nick is again in my personal space, raising his hand toward my face.
With surprising gentleness, he cups my cheek. “Why won’t you say my name?”
The vulnerability in his eyes nearly unravels me, but I don’t answer.
His gold eyes harden. “Because of him?”
“Yes,” I reply, because this is possibly the only time I can answer truthfully.
Nick drops his hand from my face, and I don’t miss the subtle flex of his hand as it falls to his side. He prowls closer, his mouth skimming my jaw as he says, “Fight for him all you want, sorceress. But there is no denying I know your body in ways I shouldn’t, and when I
find out why, I’ll have you screaming for me.”
“Is that a threat?”
He pins me with a sinister gaze and devastating smile. “No. That’s a promise.”