Chapter 4
ESCAPING FATE
“Don’t I?”
That had been his question. One that now hung between us, heavy with implication.
Ownership over me?
I could barely form words, let alone answer, which was why, for a moment, I didn’t. Not because I didn’t have something to say, but because my brain was still trying to catch up with the sheer arrogance of what he had just implied.
His hand was still holding my chin. His long fingers were firm beneath my jaw as though he hadn’t even considered the possibility that I might pull away.
Up close like this, he felt… overwhelming.
And in a way that had nothing to do with physical strength and everything to do with the quiet certainty radiating from him.
Oblivion carried power the way other men carried confidence.
Effortlessly and without needing to prove it.
The problem was that standing this close to it made it very difficult to pretend I didn’t feel the weight of it.
My pulse kicked harder, and not entirely out of anger.
Which was totally inconvenient!
Because if I were being honest with myself, there was a small, treacherous part of my brain that had latched onto what he’d said. And in a way I absolutely should not approve of.
The idea of someone like him claiming authority over me should have been horrifying.
Offending… utterly insulting!
The kind of thing that made every sensible instinct scream at me to run in the opposite direction.
However, instead, it had sent a strange, electric tension curling through my chest. Something that was completely unacceptable.
So, I forced the thought down immediately.
Pushing back against the warmth creeping up the back of my neck and focusing instead on the much more reasonable irritation rising to replace it.
I narrowed my eyes up at him.
“No,” I said, the word quiet but firm enough that it cut cleanly through the silence between us. His brow lifted just a fraction, as if in challenge.
“You absolutely do not,” I reaffirmed, and for a second, neither of us moved.
His thumb shifted faintly against my jaw, the motion deliberately slow.
As though he were considering something about my answer rather than reacting to it.
The touch sent another traitorous ripple of awareness down my spine, and I had to fight the instinct to lean away from it.
Or worse… lean into it.
“You are in my realm now, little Inanna,” he said calmly after a moment. His voice carried that same maddening certainty it always seemed to have.
“Speaking about matters that concern my kind.”
I frowned at that.
“And that means you get to decide who I associate with?” I shot back, folding my arms the moment his hand finally released my chin.
“Yes.” The answer came without hesitation, and that alone was enough to reignite my temper. Because apparently, the terrifying supernatural ruler of a demon nightclub also happened to believe he could dictate my friendships. Like some kind of infernal social committee.
“That’s convenient,” I muttered, more sharply this time, and the faintest flicker of amusement touched his expression.
“I fail to see how,” was his infuriatingly smooth response.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, letting the sarcasm creep back into my voice as I gestured vaguely toward the rest of the club behind him.
“Maybe because from where I’m standing, it kind of looks like you’re the one who tried to trap him.” His expression cooled immediately. The faint curve of his mouth vanished as the heavy accusation hung between us.
“He should never have been here,” he stated firmly, making me shake my head and argue,
“He wasn’t hurting anyone.”
“He was manipulating you.” My head snapped up, the frustration I had been holding back since the club finally bubbling over.
“Oh, please, Bo is harmless. You, on the other hand, kidnapped me!” I shot back, and his jaw tightened.
“I have not harmed you.” This statement made me want to laugh, as clearly, taking me against my will was fine as long as my captor treated me well and was… hot.
“No,” I agreed quickly.
“You’ve just forced me out of my apartment, dragged me back to your club, tried to imprison my friend, and now you’re interrogating me about some ancient language I don’t know the meaning of,” I snapped, and he narrowed his eyes down at me.
“You walked into my realm,” he reminded me, as if that single fact justified everything that had happened since. Words on repeat that hung between us.
I exhaled slowly. The silence stretched once again, and for a moment neither of us moved. Then, quietly, I said the thing that had been circling in my head ever since he had made what sounded suspiciously like a claim on me.
“What’s a siren?” That finally changed something in his expression. It was dramatic, but it was enough to tell me I was onto something. His gaze sharpened again, studying me in a way that made the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and for a second I almost wished I hadn’t asked.
Almost.
Because the truth was, the word had been sitting under my skin since he said it… my little Siren.
And I needed to know why.
So, the question lingered between us and, for what seemed like an endless moment, he didn’t answer.
The longer the silence stretched, the more aware I became of the shift in him.
It wasn’t obvious, but then again, it rarely was with him.
He kept his emotions on such a tight leash that it was almost impossible to tell what he was thinking.
His gaze held mine for another second before he turned away slightly, moving toward the dark desk at the far side of the room as though he suddenly needed the distance. The slow movement felt like a decision, not avoidance exactly, but something close to it.
“What do you know of Greek mythology?” he asked, and the change of subject was so abrupt that it caught me completely off guard.
“You mean apart from the Disney version?” I frowned, and his head tilted slightly, just enough for me to see the faintest flicker of confusion cross his expression.
“You are comparing the ancient pantheon to… animation?”
I nearly laughed at that.
“I’m comparing it to the only version most people actually remember,” I corrected quickly.
“You know, Zeus, lightning bolts, everyone sleeping with everyone else, that whole mess… although pretty sure Disney kept that part out for a reason.” The corner of his mouth twitched faintly despite himself, though the amusement didn’t last long.
“The stories humans tell of those beings are… incomplete,” he said, and this last word came out as more distasteful than anything else. And something about the way he said it made me straighten slightly.
“Incomplete how?”
His eyes lifted to mine again, that same piercing focus settling back over me.
“What do you know of Sirens?” he asked instead of explaining, and I shrugged.
“Not much, just what most people know, I guess.”
He tilted his head ever so slightly before pressing for more,
“And what is that?”
“Beautiful mermaids that would sing and lure sailors to their deaths,” I told him, basing everything I knew on one of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies.
“Sirens were not the monsters your world remembers,” he said slowly, and I blinked.
“Okay, so they’re a misunderstood sea creature. I still don’t understand what that has to do with…” My sentence trailed off when he started explaining.
“Long before human mythology distorted their image, there existed a small order of beings created by Zeus himself. Eleven in total. They were known for two things above all else, their beauty… and their voices,” he continued, his voice settling into that low, measured cadence he seemed to use when explaining something ancient.
It was as close to being hypnotic as I had ever heard, and a strange shiver slipped down my spine.
“Voices?”
“A Siren’s voice could bend the will of even the strongest creature,” he said quietly.
“They could enchant, persuade, even command if they wished. Entire armies have been said to fall silent at but a whisper.”
I stared at him before shaking my head a little, as if trying to rid myself of the image he painted.
“That sounds wildly impractical,” I told him, and he arched an eyebrow slightly.
“You find power impractical?”
“I find accidentally hypnotizing people during casual conversation a bit of a social nightmare, yes.” For a second, I thought I saw the ghost of a smile threaten again, but it faded quickly.
“They were not cruel beings,” he continued, ignoring my comment.
“They were loyal. Devoted to their creator and to the role he had given them.” He did not pause after saying it, nor did he look as though he expected me to interrupt.
Instead, his gaze drifted briefly toward the dark window behind the desk, as if the story he was telling reached far beyond the walls of the office around us.
“For a time, they existed as they were meant to, guardians placed at the side of a daughter Zeus valued greatly. Their purpose was simple, to watch over her, to guide her, and to ensure that nothing from beyond Olympus could ever reach her without consequence.” Something about the quiet certainty in his voice made it clear that he wasn’t repeating some myth half-remembered from a dusty book.
He spoke like someone describing history, not legend, and the distinction made a strange unease settle low in my stomach.
“But the gods were never known for their restraint. Zeus made a bargain with his brother, one that required the girl to be taken from Olympus and delivered into the Underworld,” he continued, his tone carrying the faintest thread of dry contempt now.
As if nothing in the world would have made him give up his own child.