Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
Orpheus
This is turning out to be much more fun than I thought it would be.
My whole point for getting Cassia up here was to overexpose myself to her. If I could see that she was nothing more than another one of my workers, maybe I wouldn’t be so obsessed with her. But the more she’s in my presence, the more I want to know what makes her tick.
Add on the fact that she doesn’t seem to have any filter when it comes to me, and it only heightens the thrill of all this.
It’s too late for me now.
I’m ensnared. Caught in a chase I’ve been trying so hard to get away from. All day, she’s consumed my thoughts, which only did one thing, piss me off. I needed to prove to myself that she was nothing, but it didn’t work.
I’ve quickly gone from trying to prove she’s normal to trying to find more and more ways to push her buttons. I want her to explode. I want all the anger and fury she’s got buried deep inside her. I want to unravel her strand by strand until there’s nothing left that I haven’t touched.
“Who are you to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do? If I want to make you my personal pet, that’s what I’ll do,” I snarl at her, narrowing my eyes as I try to instill some fear in her.
“You’re going to have a hard time doing that. I’m no one’s pet.” Cassia tilts her head and narrows her eyes right back at me.
It’s a good thing the door is closed, and no one on the other side of it could hear what is being said.
Cassia’s insubordinate behavior could easily cause issues for those who witnessed it.
Those on the second floor, just outside my office, were pleasure seekers and some of the elite.
Some of them are even men who work for me and are enjoying themselves while awaiting orders.
They’re some of my ferrous men. They work directly under Aziz.
Even Priam, though he’s picked up a lot of slack with Aziz focusing more on his mate, works beneath Aziz.
None of them needs to hear Cassia speaking to me with lack of such respect.
Cassia turns on her heel, looking ready to storm out of here, but I’m not about let her walk away from me. It’s something I won’t allow her to do. My hand snakes out, fingers wrapping around her wrist.
“Let me go,” Cassia snaps, head twisting, eyes locking on me with narrow slits.
“Oh no. I know you didn’t think I was done with you, did you?” My muscles tense, and I have to remind myself not to use my full strength while holding her. I could easily snap her little arm if I didn’t keep myself in check.
She huffs in annoyance as she glares at me, yanks her arm away, and in that single moment, my palm itches with the need to feel her skin under mine again. I shake off the feeling. I need to get a grip.
“Well, now, what? You’ve got me in here alone. Don’t tell me you want me to apologize, because that’s not going to happen.” She crosses her arms over her chest.
I take a step back, needing to put some distance between us physically, but that doesn’t stop my mind from drifting to a filthy place.
“What if I want something a little more personal? Private. Less clothed.”
Her face falls, and in that instant, I realize I’ve well and truly fucked up.
If she were any other woman, she’d have giggled and started taking off her clothes. Why, by all the gods, I thought Cassia was that same caliber of woman, I don’t know.
“You unimaginable prick!” Cassia sneers, taking a sharp step toward me.
Her eyes shoot venom; the curve of her lips etched with anger.
“If you think for one second that I’m going to be your little slut, you’re crazy.
I don’t care who you are or what you’re used to, you’re not getting that with me.
Just the fact that you’d fix your mouth to say those words is enough for me to know I want nothing to do with you or this fucking establishment.
I don’t care how badly I need the job. I’d rather be out on the street than in your presence. Screw this place and screw you.”
She spins away from me and storms toward the door.
I barely have a second to process everything she’s said.
Panic, an emotion I’m not used to feeling, bubbles up in my gut. “Cassia, wait,” I call, but she doesn’t slow. She’s furious.
She’s got good reason to be.
“Cassia,” I shout again, and this time I flash in front of her.
“Holy hell.” She skids to a stop to keep from running into me, clearly startled by my speed. “How the hell did you do that?”
I shake my head, ignoring the question. “Don’t leave. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, you shouldn’t have. But the fact that you thought you could means I’ve given you the wrong impression. The first one is always the one that lasts. I’m not offering whatever you want. I need to get away from here.”
She tries to step around me to reach the door, but I block her path, lifting my hands in a gesture meant to appear non-threatening.
“No, don’t leave. I promise, my words were nothing more than a lapse in judgment. I shouldn’t have said it. Don’t leave.” I clench my jaw before adding, “Please.”
The word tastes like acid on my tongue. I don’t remember the last time I used manners in any way that mattered, and now I’m nearly begging her to stay with me.
This isn’t me. I know for a fact, I’ve never in my long existence never once begged another person, supernatural or not, for anything.
“Why? What do you want, Orpheus?” She sighs, studying me as she waits for an honest answer.
“Someone real.”
“I can be that, but that’s as much as I can promise you. You need to get anything sexual from me out of your mind now, because it’s not going to happen.” She actually wags her finger at me like I’m an errant child she needs to scold.
She can say it all she wants, but there’s no real chance I’m erasing the fantasies that have been building in my mind since last night.
“Of course,” I lie blatantly, gesturing for her to move deeper into my space.
Instead of choosing one of the other chairs in my office, she beelines straight for mine.
My breath catches as she slowly lowers herself into the stiff seat.
“Hmm. It’s much harder than I thought it’d be,” she says softly, testing the fabric beneath her hands.
“It’s softer than the throne in the other room. Granted, a throne isn’t meant for comfort.”
“Tell me about it. I don’t know how you spend all your time sitting on something so uncomfortable.” She shrugs and stands, clearly unaware of the storm that single action has ignited in my mind.
She could have a throne of her own. Right next to mine. I’d make sure it was comfortable. She’d fit perfectly.
“You said you wanted someone real. What about all the servants you just sent out? None of them fit the bill?” Cassia asks as she drifts toward my paintings, studying them the way she did the night before.
“No,” I answer honestly. “They have their uses, but all of them know better than to cross me. Even if that means lying through their teeth to keep me satisfied.” Though my men know better than to lie to me. To work for me. To handle the things they do, honesty is a given. A must from them.
As for the others, they don’t matter. I’ve ruled empires built on lies, fear, and devotion masquerading as loyalty. I’ve surrounded myself with creatures who’d say anything if it meant earning favor or mercy. Real has never been a requirement.
It was my birthright. As the son of the God of the Underworld, I’ve been deemed the Vampire King, and that’s the way it will stay. It keeps order where there would be chaos otherwise.
Yet, hearing her say what she says feels like a challenge I didn’t know I was craving.
“You keep saying you need this job,” I say, leaning back against my desk, watching her trace the frames without really seeing them. “Badly enough to swallow your pride. Badly enough to stand your ground with me instead of walking out the first time I pushed. Why?”
She stills.
Just for a fraction of a second. Most people wouldn’t notice. I do.
“That doesn’t concern you,” she says, not looking at me.
“It does if it explains why you’re here,” I reply. “People don’t take abuse for no reason. They endure it because the alternative scares them more.”
Her shoulders tense, but she doesn’t turn.
“I said I need the job,” she replies. “I didn’t say you get to dissect my life.”
Interesting.
I step closer, careful not to crowd her. “You don’t strike me as desperate,” I say quietly. “Cautious, yes. Guarded. Angry in a way that’s been buried deep. But not weak.”
Her fingers curl around the edge of a frame.
“That’s because I learned the hard way not to look it. If you look weak, people will prey upon you.”
There it is.
Not a confession. Not a story. Just enough truth to confirm my instincts.
“What happened to you?” I ask.
She turns, eyes sharp. “No.”
Flat. Immediate.
I lift my hands, not in surrender but acknowledgment. “Fair.”
She studies me like she’s deciding whether to trust that answer. Then she exhales and turns away again.
“People always think they’re entitled to explanations,” she says. “Especially when they’ve got power.”
“Power doesn’t make me curious,” I counter. “It just means I don’t have to pretend I’m not.”
That earns a quiet huff of laughter.
She moves to the window, palms pressed to the glass, staring down at the city like it might offer answers she’s not ready to voice.
“You don’t want to know,” she says. “Everyone thinks they do until they realize it’s not a story with a clean ending.”
I let the silence sit.
Then she surprises me.
“What about you?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder. “What’s your excuse?”
I arch a brow. “My excuse for what?”
“For being like this.” She gestures vaguely around the room, at the throne, at me. “For being a king. People don’t just wake up and decide to rule monsters.”
A corner of my mouth lifts. “You’d be surprised.”
She turns fully, curiosity outweighing caution. “I doubt that.”
I consider lying. It’d be easier. It’d keep her at a distance.
I don’t.
“I didn’t choose this,” I say. “I inherited it.”
She frowns. “Inherited being . . . what you are?”
“Yes.”
“From whom?”
I hold her gaze. “My father.”
“And he was?”
I pause just long enough to let the tension stretch.
“Hades.”
She blinks.
Once.
Then she laughs.
Not mocking. Just startled disbelief.
“You’re serious,” she says, wiping the corner of her eye.
“I am.”
She studies my face, searching for cracks. For arrogance. For fantasy.
There are none.
“Oh,” she breathes.
Understanding dawns slowly. Skepticism fades into awe she tries to hide.
“You’re saying the God of the Underworld, Hades, is your father?” she says carefully. “As in mythology. As in stories people stopped believing in centuries ago.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re telling me this because?”
“Because you asked,” I reply. “And because you don’t strike me as someone who’d kneel just because of a name.”
Her lips part, then press together. “That’s insane.”
“And yet here you are,” I say. “Standing in here. Arguing with me. Calling me an asshole.”
A smile tugs at her mouth. “Guess I’ve always had a thing for bad decisions.”
Something warm coils low in my chest.
We stand there, the space between us charged but not hostile. Curious. Intimate in a way that has nothing to do with skin.
“So, you didn’t become King because you wanted power,” she says slowly. “You became one because it was expected of you.”
“Because it was inevitable,” I correct. “Choice is a luxury I’ve rarely had.”
She nods like it makes sense. “That explains a lot.”
“What does?” I ask.
“Why you don’t know how to talk to people without ordering them around.”
I bark out a laugh. “Fair.”
She smiles, and my chest tightens again.
“You still haven’t told me why you need the job,” I say, softer now.
She shakes her head. “Not tonight.”
“Not ever?”
“Maybe. When I know you won’t use it against me.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
The air shifts. She steps closer, whether she realizes it or not. Her breath catches, and I feel it like a pull.
My hand lifts, stopping inches from her cheek.
She doesn’t pull away.
Her eyes flick to my mouth, back to my eyes.
“This is a bad idea,” she whispers.
“Yes,” I agree.
The distance between us disappears slowly, deliberately.
Her breath ghosts over my lips.
The moment stretches, fragile and electric.
A knock slams into the door.
“King.”
Priam’s voice cuts through the room.
I close my eyes once and step back, forcing space between us.
“What?” I snap.
“There’s a group in the alley,” Priam says from the other side of the door. “Vampires. Looks like they’re looking for revenge over last night.”
Cassia’s eyes widen.
I straighten, instincts sharpening. “How many?”
“Five. Armed. Agitated.”
I glance at Cassia.
The tension doesn’t fade. It sharpens.
“Stay here,” I tell her.
“I’m your servant, remember? I’m supposed to be with you,” she shoots back.
For a moment, I’m tempted to remind her what that title means, but I stop myself.
Maybe this is better. She should see what I deal with. It might be the warning my mouth refuses to give.
“Come. I’ve got you.”
I reach for her hand and pull her against my chest, lifting her so her feet leave the floor.
I speed out of my office, her soft body pressed to mine.
The first time I truly get to feel her, and I’m running straight into a fight.