Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
Orpheus
The silence she leaves behind is louder than the club ever was.
I stand in the center of my office long after the door seals shut, long after her footsteps fade from the hall, long after the night should have returned to its familiar numbness. It doesn’t.
Her scent lingers.
Not perfume. Not anything artificial. Just her. Warm skin. Soap. Something faintly floral that I can’t name and don’t want to forget. It clings to the air, to the furniture, to me. I breathe it in slowly, deliberately, like it might disappear if I rush.
I feel awake.
Not alert. Not aware.
Alive.
That realization shocks me more than anything else tonight.
I move toward the desk, resting my palms against the edge as memories replay in my mind. Her voice. Calm but firm. The way she looked at me when she told me I didn’t need to tear people apart to prove a point.
No one speaks to me that way.
No one.
Anyone who has dared usually winds up at my feet, headless. I’m feared for a reason.
Yet she did. Without fear. Without apology. Not reckless. Not stupid. Just honest.
I exhale and scrub a hand over my face.
I’ve never cared how my staff feels. They’re loyal. Efficient. Replaceable. Respect has always been enforced through consequence, not kindness. That’s the way power works.
Yet, when I see Priam’s face in my mind, stiff with restraint, something twists uncomfortably in my chest.
She saw that part of me. The ugly part. The ruthless edge I usually don’t bother hiding.
She didn’t flinch.
She didn’t praise it either.
Instead, she told me to be kinder to my staff.
I straighten slowly, irritation and something far more dangerous coiling together inside me.
This is why I should leave her alone.
She’s too soft for my world. Too genuine. Too human.
I should let the night swallow her back into obscurity. Let her be another fleeting enigma in an otherwise endless existence.
Only I don’t think I can as much as it bothers me to admit that.
Instead, I step toward the door.
I want to tell myself it’s because she works for me. Works for Dyrk. Because she’s my responsibility while she remains under my roof. Because I allowed a predator to get too close to her in my establishment, and that’s a failure I don’t intend to repeat.
All of that is true.
The only problem is that it’s not the whole truth.
The club below is nearly empty now, the final patrons filtering out as staff begin the slow ritual of closing. I walk down the stairs without ceremony, unnoticed as I always am when I want to be.
A familiar voice stops me.
“My King.”
I turn to find one of the waitresses standing near the bar. She’s beautiful in the way many of them are. Sharp eyes. Painted lips. Confidence practiced to perfection. She smiles like she already knows the answer to the question she’s about to ask.
“You’re heading out early,” she says, stepping closer. Her hand brushes my sleeve, intentional and unashamed. “I could help you unwind.”
Her gaze drops, lingers, promises things she knows I usually accept without hesitation.
If this were any other night, I would have.
Tonight, all I see is Cassia standing in my office, her brow furrowed as she looked at me like I was something more than a crown and a title.
“No,” I say.
The word surprises her.
“No?”
“I’ve got somewhere to be.”
Disappointment flashes across her face, quickly masked by practiced indifference. “Of course.”
She steps aside, wounded pride simmering beneath the surface of her fully made-up face.
I don’t look back. It’s not like I’m betrothed to anyone here. I made sure to let them all know not to get too close to me. Not to get attached. I don’t want to be responsible for anyone’s heart. Relationships are nothing more than a burden I don’t want any part of.
Outside, the night air is cool and damp, the city humming softly around me. I close my eyes and listen, reaching out with senses honed over centuries, searching for her. My prey.
There.
I move.
The world blurs, buildings stretching and snapping back into place as I cross blocks in seconds. I slow as I near her, slipping back into shadow before she can notice the shift in the air.
Cassia walks alone down the sidewalk, her coat pulled tight around her, her steps steady but cautious. She keeps her head up, eyes forward, alert without being paranoid.
She meant it when she said she could take care of herself.
That doesn’t mean she should have to.
I follow at a distance, as silently as I can be. She pauses at a crosswalk, and I stop with her, hidden behind a parked car. She glances over her shoulder once, frowning slightly.
She feels me.
The thought sends a spark of excitement through my veins. I want to laugh, but then she’d hear me. I bite at the corner of my lip to keep my reaction in check.
Impossible. Humans don’t sense vampires unless they’re being hunted. Unless they’re marked.
Unless they’re bonded to another.
But I’m not a simple vampire. They call me King because I created the first ones. Aziz and Sibley were the first I turned. I’m a hybrid demi-god born of a demon. Hades made it so I am who I am. He made sure I would create life from death.
I watch as Cassia shakes her head and continues walking.
I follow.
Block after block passes like this. Every so often, she looks back again, her steps slowing just enough to confirm she isn’t imagining it. Each time, I remain unseen.
Either she’s perceptive beyond reason, or I’m losing my edge.
I don’t know which possibility troubles me more.
Her building is small. No more than a little cottage-style house that can’t have more than three rooms, tucked between two larger structures, paint chipped, porch light flickering. It’s clean, but modest to the point of discomfort.
I watch as she unlocks the door and steps inside.
Anger flares sharp and sudden in my chest.
This is where she lives?
Not a fortress. Not a place of comfort. Just a narrow porch leading into a house that looks like the wind could blow over and wouldn’t stop anything or one determined enough to break through.
The idea of her sleeping here makes my hands curl into fists. This is no place for a woman who carries such light around her to be living.
I move closer, scaling the side of the little house with ease until I reach her window. I perch on the sill, crouched in shadow, invisible to any passing eyes below.
Inside, she moves slowly, methodically. She kicks off her shoes and sets her bag down carefully. She hums softly under her breath as she moves through the small space.
My chest tightens.
She changes into sleep clothes, nothing revealing, nothing meant to be seen. Still, the sight of her bare arms, the curve of her neck, the casual intimacy of it all leaves me aching.
Not hunger.
Want.
I haven’t felt that in a very long time. Sure, I’ve shared my bed with countless women, but it’s been a long time since I’ve felt desire like this. A desire that I shouldn’t be feeling right now.
She moves through her nightly routine, brushing her hair, those long locks make my hands itch to touch them, washing her face, yawning as exhaustion finally claims her. She pauses once, staring out the window, her gaze unfocused.
For a moment, I think she sees me.
She doesn’t. She can’t. There’s no way for her to be able to.
Eventually, she turns off the light and crawls into bed.
I remain where I am. Even as the hours pass, I feel no urge to leave.
The town’s quiet. Dawn creeps closer. Crickets are all that could be heard. I should leave. I should return to my throne and my solitude and forget the way her name tasted on my tongue.
I don’t.
I stay perched on her windowsill, watching her breathe, listening to the steady rhythm of her heart. Protecting her from threats she doesn’t even know exist.
I don’t ask for anything in return.
I don’t know why. I’m not a man who does things without something in return. It’s a rule I was taught at an early age.
All I know is that when the sun begins to rise, and I finally slip away into shadow, one truth is impossible to deny.
Cassia has already claimed something of mine.
I’m not certain I want it back. This has to be what Sibley meant when Aziz first found Jett to be his mate. The woman had recited something strong and spoke of the three of us finding our mates.
I wanted to scoff at her then. I still want to. I don’t have a mate.
Still, I find myself struggling with thoughts of Cassia as I don’t know what it is about her that draws me in.