Chapter 2
Tink
Any other day, I would already be out of the room, throwing up a middle finger for good measure.
For five years, I’ve gone out of my way to ensure I’m never alone with Jameson Hook.
Apparently I no longer have that option.
Even though I’ve seen him time and time again since I made my deal with Hades, I’ve never let myself look.
It’s only surprise that has my curiosity slipping its leash now.
Shock at his presence in this room overriding what little good sense I have.
The man standing before me is a far sight from the skinny guy who used to look like a rough touch would shatter his bones.
He looks good. His medium brown skin practically glows from health, and he’s let his black hair grow out over the years.
It’s not tied back for once, falling to his shoulders in waves that gleam.
He’s filled out over the years, growing into his body in a way I intrinsically recognize.
I’ve done the same thing, after all, albeit in a different way.
I love my curves, love the fact that I get to choose my beautiful.
If anyone has a problem with that, they can fuck right off.
Hook has gone in a different direction. His body looks like a sculptor spent a decade lovingly carving out the definition of his muscles.
I can’t see them now, not with him fully dressed in street clothes, but a person doesn’t spend much time in the Underworld without getting pretty comfortable with public nudity.
Especially if they have an exhibitionist streak.
Hook sure as fuck does.
Not that I’ve noticed. I’ve spent too much time determined not to notice.
I plant my hands on my hips and glare. Anger is the only thing I have left, but fortunately for me, the depths of my rage remain unplumbed when it comes to the man watching me with that glint in his dark eyes.
I have to do something, say something, because standing here staring at him sends waves after waves of feelings through me that I am not prepared to deal with. Not today. Not ever.
My soul hates Hook. My body hasn’t gotten the memo. But then, my desires always did get me into trouble. The difference is that now I know enough to tell the difference between lust and something as ill-advised as falling in love with the wrong person.
I shove the thought away. The past may lie in this room, thick enough to choke on, but I won’t be the one to bring it up. “You know, normal people can take a hint. If not a hint, then my explicitly telling you to fuck off more times than I can count in the last five years.”
“You wound me.” He presses both hands to his chest.
Against my better judgement, I follow the movement to where his white T-shirt hugs his defined pectoral muscles. I jerk my gaze back to his face. “Not as thoroughly as I’d like to.”
His grin is quick, a flash of white teeth against his neatly trimmed beard. It’s gone before I can fully register its impact, leaving him serious. “There’s trouble, Tink. Big trouble.”
“I don’t care.”
“Yes, you do. If not about me, then about this.” He hesitates, a pause barely long enough to allow me to brace for what I know is coming. Sure enough, Hook pulls my deepest fears forth and puts them into words. “He’s making moves to take the territory back.”
I desperately don’t want to talk about this, to admit I know exactly who he’s talking about, but denial has never been my strong suit.
If there’s one thing Hook and I share, and one thing only, it’s the boogeyman stuffed into our respective closets.
The man who’s left scars on both our body and souls.
It’s still no excuse for Hook’s sins.
It’s no excuse for mine, either.
I look away. I have to. “I don’t see what that has to do with me.”
“Really?” His dry tone cuts me directly to the bone. “You don’t think it’s the strangest coincidence that your contract with Hades is coming to a close and now is the time he’s stirring up a coup? You’re smarter than that.”
The urge to flop onto the bed between us and bury my head in the pillows almost takes me to my knees. I don’t want this. I don’t want the responsibility Hook seems determined to lay at my feet. I don’t want to be dragged kicking and screaming into the past I fought so hard to leave behind.
Apparently I didn’t fight hard enough. Or run far enough.
It’s cowardly to turn away, but I don’t care. “It’s not my problem.”
“I see,” he says slowly. “Are you saying that black eye you had not too long ago had nothing to do with Peter?”
I spin to face him. I didn’t mean to react, but no one was supposed to know about that. Either Meg had talked—unlikely—or Hook had been watching me more closely than I realized. “Stalker much?”
“Don’t do that.”
“You don’t get to tell me what to do.” No one does.
Not anymore. Yes, Hades technically owns my contract, and I may not like him even the smallest bit, but no one in the Underworld expects me to bow and flinch and keep my head down like the nearly-broken creature I was when I threw myself on Hades’s dubious mercy.
The people here let me find my feet. They gave me the space to figure out who I was and learn to make no apologies for it. The thought of what Hook is asking me …
Wait. What is he asking me?
I can’t do this. Reacting emotionally won’t accomplish anything. Easy enough to realize that. Much harder to stuff all my messy feelings deep down until I’m able to face him again. I’ve never mastered the icy thing the way some people have, but I still try. “You’re here for a reason.”
His dark gaze flicks over my face before he nods slowly. “I’m here for a reason.”
I wait. As difficult as it is to hold my questions, I force myself to do it. He came to me. He can be the one to break this stifling silence that stretches between us like taffy. Sticky and binding and horrible.
Finally, Hook curses. “There’s no easy way to say this.”
“Then say it the hard way.”
“I can give you what you need.”
I blink. If I’d allowed myself to anticipate his next words, those wouldn’t even have made the list. “What are you talking about?”
“Revenge. His head on a platter, literal or otherwise.” He doesn’t smile, doesn’t do anything to lessen the offer. “If you want him chained in a basement for four years while I personally deliver every single injury that he dealt out to you, I can do that, too.”
I can’t think. Can’t do anything but stare. “You’re drunk. That’s the only explanation for you spitting this madness at me.”
“No, I’m not. I’m simply offering you something that even Hades won’t.”
Surely he can’t know I asked Hades for more than sanctuary five years ago.
I begged and pleaded and wept at his feet, desperate for him to remove the threat of Peter permanently.
I know better now. Hades doesn’t act directly against any of the territory leaders.
It’s the only way he’s able to keep his precious neutral ground.
I can respect that now, but I still can’t forgive him for denying me the very thing Hook is offering now.
There’s only one question that remains; the most important one. “Why?”
“Because it’s what we both want.” He doesn’t move, doesn’t even appear to breathe. “But I require your cooperation to make it happen.”
Here it is, the trap I sensed but couldn’t see. He offers me the one outcome I want more than anything in the world as bait and slips a shackle around my ankle at the same time. “No.”
“You may not have a choice.”
“Wrong. I always have a choice.”
Hook shrugs. He’s not as big as Gaeton, but his frame is roped with muscle. “He might hesitate to cross Hades, but you’re about to lose Hades’s protection. He’ll come for you. You know he will.”
He’s right. I hate that he’s right. Peter will come for me, if not because I’m a toy that was taken from him before he finished with it, then because I tried to take away his new toy. That, he’ll never forgive, and he certainly won’t forget.
It wasn’t something I was thinking about when I heard about the new girl.
All I could focus on was that I knew exactly what she was going through, exactly how scared she must be to realize her Prince Charming was far more terrifying than anything she left behind.
In those dark years, I hadn’t allowed myself to pray, but if I had, I would have prayed for someone to get me out.
So I tried to do that, to save her, to be the person my younger self needed.
I should have known better. She’s not me. Or, more accurately, she’s not me now. She’s me five, six, eight years ago, when I attacked everyone who came close, because to do anything else was to welcome his suspicion and jealousy. To invite more pain.
Still, I can’t quite stop blaming myself for her presence in his life. If I hadn’t left, Peter wouldn’t have needed to fill my place. She’d still be free.
I shake my head as Hook’s words penetrate. “You can’t honestly think he’s going to come after me.”
He doesn’t blink. “I know he will.”
A shiver of fear works its way down my spine. I haven’t felt true terror in so long, but I recognize it intimately. “You show up here and offer me his head on a platter … Why?”
“Putting Peter six feet under benefits both of us.”
I flinch at his name. Foolish to let something as simple as a name, five little letters, take on this kind of importance, but I can’t shake the feeling that speaking his name will summon the man himself. It’s everything I can do not to look over my shoulder.
Jameson—Hook—might be here under the guise of offering me help, but I know better than to expect it to come without strings attached. No one in our world offers something for nothing. Power, submission, sex; tit for tat. The form of repayment doesn’t matter, only that repayment is expected.