Chapter 33
RHI
“I’ve got you, Rhi. I’ve got you.”
A familiar, soothing voice coaxes my trembling body to still as arms wrap tightly around me.
I don’t realize how badly I’m shaking until another set of hands presses cautiously against my upper back, careful not to agitate the gaping wound tearing apart the middle.
My face is buried into a shoulder, the scent of the person also familiar, a faint hint of citrus and honey.
“Breathe, Rhi,” a different voice pacifies. The voice soothes in conjunction with small strokes on my back, and the distinct feel of leather causes my clenched eyes to open.
I lie atop another body, the sight of thick, dark, shoulder length hair making my heart quiver. Pushing myself up, I hover over Zo, her expression crossed between relief and worry, dark eyes narrowed. But then, she smiles.
“Hey, Rhi.”
I fall back to sit, eyes wide and mouth parted. My gaze swiftly jumps from a supine Zo, who props herself up on her forearms, to Scar, who crouches down beside her, to B standing on the opposite side of Zo.
Someone is missing.
As soon as my brain finishes that thought, long, gleaming golden hair enters my periphery, her gloved hand sliding across my upper back and over my shoulder as Astrid comes into focus.
“Breathe, Rhi. You’re okay. You made it. You’re safe.”
The gentle tone she uses is so at odds with her normal, stern voice and abrasive expression. Even her countenance is soft and compassionate, no trace of that stony glare in her brilliant, sapphire eyes.
Astrid stands besides Scar, who rises next to her girlfriend, barely reaching Astrid’s shoulder. My eyes sweep over the girls once more, their gazes lasered on me, all four of them. Here.
A dam of tears breaks, flooding my face. My sobs are uncontrollable, coming in insurmountable waves, making it difficult to catch my breath.
The last few months hit me all at once. Nick’s death.
My heartache. My solitude. My last meeting with the girls.
Being in Nick’s presence knowing he forgot he loved me.
Finding him again, only to learn we may not be able to leave.
Looking death in the face and thinking I’d never see Nick or the girls again. Making it out of the Labyrinth. Alive.
“Let it out, Rhi.” Scarlett gently says.
I do. I sob until my tears run dry and my chest aches with each inhale and my throat burns. All the while, each of the girls takes a turn holding me, whispering words of comfort and warmth, rubbing my back to keep the panic attacks from emerging.
Once the tears finally subside, I rub my eyes with dirt-clad hands and glance at my friends, who all stare with eager expressions, as though awaiting my first words.
“Why are you all so fucking filthy?”
Astrid’s mouth slants in a half-grin while the other girls burst out laughing.
“You aren’t looking so hot, yourself,” B bites back, her smile wide and teasing.
I laugh at that, my voice cracking due to the desert that is my throat.
I reach for the water satchel and take a long gulp, again eyeing my friends.
They look just about as disheveled as I do, maybe a bit less worse for the wear, as I don’t see any visible injuries.
But every single one of them is covered in dirt, their foreheads are sweat-slicked, pony-tailed hair haphazard, and their clothes have several tears.
“Seriously, what happened?”
“We woke up in a fucking forest and got chased by gigantic, monstrous wolves, that’s what happened,” Astrid says, her voice back to that placid tone.
“Hell Beasts,” I amend, taking another drink before holding out the satchel. Zo grabs it first then passes it to B.
“That name tracks,” Zo mutters. She reaches out a hand to B who helps her up, their fingers entwining together a bit longer than necessary. Astrid’s stony glare is once again soft as her eyes scan Scar, assessing her for signs of distress or wounds.
I love them.
And they’re fucking soulmates. My gods, should I—
Answer me, little liar. Please. I’m begging you. Nick’s voice pierces my brain, panicked and grief stricken. Shit. I know I asked him to get out of my head, but how long has he been trying to reach me? This is the first time I’m hearing him since my fight with Leviathan.
I’m here, Nick. I made it. I got out.
Where are you? I’m coming. And don’t tell me no, because I sure as fuck won’t listen.
I pause, again eyeing the girls, who watch me with curious expressions.
I’m about twenty feet outside the palace, just a bit outside the Black Woods. But Nick, the girls are here. Your sister is here.
Nick’s pause is crushing. I can feel his emotions warring without one another. Confusion. Relief. Excitement. Sadness.
Do not tell her my memories have returned. If anyone finds out who she is, she will be used against me.
I stare at Scar, schooling my heartbroken features to neutral.
“Is everything ok?” she asks.
“Yes. We have to wait here until someone from the palace comes.” It’s a small lie, but it still feels like twisting a knife in my heart. “We need a story as to who you are to me and how you got here, and it cannot be the truth.”
Astrid nods, following with, “What’s your story?”
I stand, wincing as my right leg throbs. My pain tolerance is considerably higher, and I can only assume I’m finally healing. “I’m Hades’ emissary and unofficially…Nick’s mistress.”
Someone chokes—it’s Astrid, I realize, as she was just finishing a sip of water. Scar stares at me in bewilderment while B stares at me with wide eyes and Zo’s jaw drops.
“Long story short, Nick is engaged to a demoness named Isadora.” Astrid and Scar exchange what the fuck looks. “She’s not really that bad. We’re friends, sort of. Anyway, they’re engaged, and I’m his mistress. Everyone at Court thinks I’m in Hell searching for a long lost lover.”
Silence ensues in the space of my word vomit.
“You know,” Zo finally says, “if we make it out of here, you might want to pitch that to Netflix.”
B turns to stare at her, her face a mix of horrified and baffled.
“What?” Zo shrugs. “Just saying, I’d watch the shit out of a show like that.”
I bite back a smile. Gods, it feels so good to have them back, to be with them.
“What’s his name?” Scar quietly asks.
I blink in confusion.
“Before you left for Hades’ penthouse, you said Nick wasn’t his name anymore.” She swallows, her hazel eyes glassy. “What’s his name?”
Oh, fuck. Since Nick has his memories, and I’ve been able to address him as such, I’d forgotten all about that.
“Raphael,” I tell her, and my heart splinters as she nods and blinks back tears.
In all my years of lying, I actually never minded it.
Of course, when it came to the people I love, I rationalized I did it to protect them, which spectacularly backfired in the wake of Liv’s death.
Still, lying was something that always came natural, something I did as easily as breathing.
Now, these small, simple lies I have to tell Scar are like shards of glass piercing my heart.
“How about this,” I say to break the sorrowful silence. “You are my ladies from Hades’ Court, sent to accompany me.”
A breeze floats through the space between us, the ocean crashing in the background. We collectively sigh, welcoming the small reprieve from the harsh suns above.
“And everyone will buy that? Nick—” Astrid shakes her head. “Raphael especially?”
Yes, because he knows who you are.
“I can convince Raph. And whatever he says is law.”
The girls nod.
And as if our words summoned him, the sound of hooves pound in the distance, and Nick rides toward us on horseback. When did he get a fucking horse? Belial and Baal flank his left and right, with four more men on horseback behind him—Argos, regrettably, one of those four.
A black crown with jagged spires sits atop his head, gleaming a sinister obsidian beneath the suns.
His black shirt is open, the laces bouncing off his chiseled chest with every trot of the horse beneath him.
Tight, onyx riding breeches encase his muscled legs, his calves covered by leather boots of the same dark hue.
Nick’s bright golden eyes shimmer, contrasting beautifully with his bronzed skin and inky ensemble. He looks every inch the King of Hell. Formidable. Deadly. Devastating. And darkly, irresistibly beautiful.
His eyes catch mine as he rides closer, and the way my heart swells at seeing him after I once more faced the prospect of never seeing him again nearly brings me to my knees.
Though his face remains stoic, lest he reveal my importance to him in front of Argos and the remaining riders, those golden orbs are burning, screaming with relief and undying devotion at the sight of me.
They dart away only once, a swift and calculated glance so fast, anyone else would miss it, towards his sister.
Nick pulls the reigns of his sleek, black stallion, slowing the beast to a stop directly in front of us.
“What do we have here?” His tone is that of a king, pragmatic and void of emotion.
I curtsey, eyeing the girls pointedly to do the same. Astrid appears annoyed and B looks positively disgusted, but all four do their best imitation of a curtsey, wobbling as they try to right themselves.
Argo snickers, the fucking dick, but Nick quiets him with a scathing glare.
“These are my ladies from Hades’ court,” I tell him.
“A bit worse for the wear, aren’t they?” Belial questions.
“And what are they wearing?” a light-haired Demon I recognize from our dinners asks.
“Enough,” Nick bites out. “Liv is the first to survive The Harrowing. Let us take her and her ladies back to the palace so they may rest and clean up.”
Each one of the girls tosses me a confused look, no doubt at the mention of the name, but they are wise enough not to open their mouths.
“My daughter was the first to survive, Your Majesty,” Argo interjects.
The way Nick cranes his neck is entirely reptilian as he glares at Argos. “No. Your daughter survived a trial, and only by Liv’s interference. While I am glad Isadora lives, she wouldn’t have survived if Liv hadn’t intervened. Let’s not go about making up fables.”
“Where did you procure such information?” Argo seethes.
“From your own fucking daughter. Question me again, and I’ll make sure your tongue doesn’t grow back next time.”
Nick effortlessly climbs off the saddle and holds out a gloved hand to me. Belial, Baal, and two other Demons on horseback do the same, motioning towards my friends. Thankfully, Argos stays put on his high horse—literally—his face an alarming shade of crimson due to Nick’s admonishment.
My fingers grasp his gloved ones, sparks igniting my blood as he closes his hand around mine. Pulling me closer, he wraps his other hand around my waist, that sinful mouth slanting deviously.
“Hello, sorceress.”
I smile back. “Hello, Devil.”
Nick guides me in climbing onto the saddle, hoisting himself up once I’m seated. His muscled arms reach out me to grab the reigns, and he instructs me to hold on to the pommel.
“Are you hurt?” His voice is low, his lips close to my ear.
I shiver. “Not anymore.” The pain from earlier is nearly gone.
“What about your back? The leathers are shredded, but the skin is whole.”
I shake my head as Nick steers the horse toward the palace and trots a bit further from our group.
“Good. Because I am going to punish you for your disobedience, and when you scream, I want it to be from pleasure.”
Nick presses his calves into the sides of his stallion, cueing the horse to take off at breakneck speed.
Thundering hooves follow, alerting me that the rest of our party is not too far behind.
Yet I wish we could break away, find a place alone right now.
Nick’s words, combined with the heat that swarms my belly and the friction from riding, bring a low, feral moan to my lips.
I feel his mouth just below the edge of my ear and stifle a scream when his sharp teeth pierce my neck.
“Save those moans for later, sorceress. No one gets to hear what you sound like when you come except for me.”
By the time we reach the palace, the ache between my legs is close to unbearable.
The rest of the group is about five lengths behind due to Nick’s impatience.
We don’t enter through the main entryway as I did when I arrived, but a different entrance located on the side, where a short bridge connects the palace to the mainland.
The horse slows to a complete stop, and Nick glides off first before he reaches for my waist and lifts me, settling my feet on the ground.
Before I can draw a breath, his lips are on mine, tongue spearing my mouth with a dark dominance and barely constrained vigor.
Nick’s hands slide around to my back, pressing me closer before he pulls back and holds my chin between his thumb and forefinger.
“Your arousal is fucking intoxicating. You should know I am using every last shred of control I have to keep from tearing these leathers from your body and fucking you right here.” He places another quick kiss to my lips, capturing another of my moans.
“But there are matters to be handled first. Go upstairs. Rest. Eat. And don’t for one fucking second think of putting your fingers between those beautiful thighs to alleviate the ache I can feel between your legs. ”
My mouth parts before it twists into a scowl. “That is very unfair.”
His grip on my chin tightens, black bleeding into the gold of his eyes. “You should have thought of that before you disobeyed me.” Another quick kiss. “Go. I will take care of you later.”
Nick drops his hand from my face and steps to the side. I shiver at the implication of his words before I walk past him. Before I step foot onto the bridge, I turn with a sly smile and ask, “how will you know if I take care of myself?”
He answers me with his own wicked grin. “I’m the Devil, sorceress, and you are what keeps this wicked heart beating. I heard your moans of pleasure long before I ever laid eyes on you.”
Nick turns to face the incoming group. Stunned at his words, I walk across the bridge, wondering with illicit anticipation just what he has in store for me tonight.