Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
Cassia
I hadn’t realized my hands had been shaking until we were back inside, back in Orpheus’s office.
The moment the door to Orpheus’s private space seals behind us, the noise of the club drops away like someone pulled the cord. No bass. No laughter. No clinking glasses. Just quiet, thick and heavy, and far too intimate after what happened outside.
I can still smell the alley.
The blood. Wet brick. That sharp metallic tang that doesn’t leave your nose once it gets in there.
Orpheus doesn’t look like it affected him at all.
That’s the part that should unsettle me the most, but it isn’t. Not really.
The part that unsettles me is how calm he is while I’m still trying to make my lungs remember how to breathe.
He guides me forward with a hand on my elbow, not rough, not gentle either. Like he’s trying not to touch me too much. Like he’s aware that one wrong move might snap something inside me.
I hate that I might be that fragile.
I straighten my spine and step away from his grasp, needing the space between us to prove I’m not someone who is fragile. I don’t know if it’s him or me that I’m trying to make aware of this. Probably myself.
I’m not going to collapse. Not in front of him. Not in front of anyone. I refuse to allow myself to seem weak to anyone.
He watches me for a beat, eyes narrowed slightly, then walks past me like he owns the air and drops into that chair behind his desk.
His throne.
I don’t want to think about crowns or gods or Underworld Kings. I don’t want to think about a vampire’s head popping off his body like it were nothing.
I definitely don’t want to think about the way Orpheus’s voice sounded when he told them to leave. Like he was bored. Like killing someone was a chore he had to take care of as if it were the same as washing clothes or doing the dishes.
I move toward the wall again, toward the art, because it’s easier to stare at paint and stone than it is to stare at him.
But even the art feels different now.
Not beautiful.
Not interesting.
Just evidence.
Proof that he’s existed for too long. That he’s collected history like trophies because the passage of time doesn’t mean anything to him the way it means something to me.
My skin prickles as the memory of the alley snaps back into focus.
The blade.
The lunge.
The instant when I thought he was going to be hit, my body moved before my mind did.
I still don’t know why I did that.
Bravery doesn’t live in my bones. Survival does.
Maybe that was survival too.
Maybe my body decided that if Orpheus died, I’d die right after him, and it didn’t want to take the chance.
The thought makes my stomach twist.
I swallow hard and keep my face neutral.
I don’t get to fall apart. Not yet.
Orpheus speaks into the silence.
“You shouldn’t have been there. I regret my decision to take you with me, but you should’ve listened.”
His tone is flat. Not angry. Not worried. Not even irritated. Just a statement.
I turn slowly. “I did listen.”
“No.” His gaze pins me. “You stepped in front of me.”
My brows furrow. Does he really not realize why I did that? “I thought he was going to hurt you,” I snap back, and I hate that my voice cracks on the last word.
His eyes flick over my face, like he hears the crack.
“He wasn’t,” Orpheus says. “He was trying to provoke a reaction.”
“Well, congratulations,” I mutter. “He got one.”
His jaw tightens.
I expect him to bark at me, to order me into a corner, to remind me of what he is.
Instead, he exhales.
Slow and controlled.
Like he’s forcing himself to call on the small human part of himself in the way he speaks to me.
He leans back in his chair. “Cassia.”
His eyes pop up to mine, but I don’t see the same calmness that’s in his voice reflected in them. They’re glowing.
In a flash, he’s out of his chair and in front of me.
I gasp when I feel his hands snake up into my hair and pull my head back. It’s all happening so fast, but not fast enough.
His lips are against mine in the next instant.
I know I should push him away, but I want more of him. He tastes absolutely delicious. The kiss is nearly feral. Primal. He sucks at my lips, licks and samples me. Possesses my mouth like it’s always belonged to him.
It’s over nearly as quickly as it starts.
He pulls his mouth away. Out of breath, he leans his forehead against mine, his eyes closed while he composes himself.
Once again, he mutters my name, “Cassia.”
The sound of my name from him makes my stomach flutter, which is ridiculous, and I hate my body for it.
“Don’t do that again,” he says.
“Don’t what?”
“Put yourself between me and a blade.”
I lift my chin. “Maybe don’t stand there like you want to get stabbed.”
Something dark flickers across his expression. Amusement, maybe. Maybe annoyance.
“You thought I was in trouble,” he says.
“I did,” I reply. “And don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re trying to decide whether you want to punish me or keep me.”
His eyes sharpen.
The silence stretches.
I realize I’ve said too much, again.
I should stop. I should bite my tongue. I should remember he’s not a man I can mouth off to and walk away from.
But I can’t. Not when my blood is still hot. Not when I’m still seeing that vampire’s head rolling away like it was nothing more than a bowling ball.
Orpheus takes a step away from me.
“That wasn’t a random challenge,” he says quietly.
I blink. “What?”
“The group in the alley,” he continues. “They weren’t drunk fledglings looking for a fight. They were organized. Watching. Measuring.”
My throat tightens. “They were new?”
“Yes.”
“And angry.”
He pauses, eyes narrowing like he’s choosing his words carefully.
“When people hear the name Hades, they get brave,” he says.
“Think that they can get to him, but they can’t.
I spread rumors long ago that I was the son of Hades to keep people from actually guessing it to be true.
They can wonder. They can hope. What they won’t do is know the truth.
Only a handful of people know it’s the truth.
What they believe is that Hades put me as King.
All they have to do is prove and take me out, then they can ascend the throne.
Another thing they don’t know is that I cannot be killed by a blade or anything else.
I’m too powerful. The only thing that can is either Zeus or Hades.
Neither of which will touch me. They need me. ”
A chill crawls up my spine.
Not because I’m surprised.
Because I’m not.
Maybe I am. If not at least a little.
Maybe a whole lot.
I don’t want to be reminded that what I’m standing in the middle of is real. That gods aren’t bedtime stories, and vampires aren’t just monsters in books.
Orpheus watches my face closely.
“The Underworld has always had factions,” he continues. “Creatures who believe power should be taken, not inherited. Creatures who resent bloodlines and the old laws.”
I force my expression to stay neutral.
I’ve heard this before.
I’ve heard whispers in candlelit rooms. I’ve heard ancient women mutter about the old ways and the new blood and the ones who would burn the whole realm down if it meant they got to sit at the top.
I’ve heard it. I’ve seen it. I’ve survived it.
Orpheus takes a step closer.
“Being his son didn’t make me untouchable, no matter whether I’m immortal or not,” he says. “It made me a target.”
I swallow. “Because they think you’re ruling like him.”
His eyes flicker. “Yes.”
The way he says it makes my stomach twist again.
Not because I pity him, but because I understand him more than I want to.
I shift my weight, trying to keep my voice steady. “So people challenge you.”
“They always have,” he replies. “They always will.”
“And you kill them.”
He doesn’t flinch. “When it’s necessary.”
I think of the head. The body collapsing.
“How do you decide?” I ask before I can stop myself.
His gaze sharpens. “Why do you want to know?”
“I’m curious,” I say, and it’s partly true. “Because you spared the rest. Why?”
“So, they’d make mistakes,” he corrects. “So, they’d lead me back to whoever is guiding them.”
A pulse of unease rolls through me.
“Someone’s guiding them,” I repeat.
“Yes.”
“You’re sure.”
“I don’t waste certainty,” he says.
I stare at him. “Then what now?”
Orpheus’s gaze drifts to the door, like he can see through it, like he can see the entire club, the city, the alley, the shadows.
“Now I tighten control,” he says. “And I remove threats.”
Threats.
The word sits heavy, and my throat goes dry.
Because I know what a threat looks like to someone like him.
It’s not just a vampire with a blade. It’s anything that can destabilize power. Anything that can be used against him.
Anything he cares about.
Me.
The thought flashes so fast it makes me dizzy.
Orpheus turns back to me. “You shouldn’t be walking home alone.”
I let out a short breath. “I’ll be fine.”
“You were attacked in my club,” he says, voice colder. “Then you were nearly caught in an ambush meant for me.”
“I wasn’t caught,” I mutter.
“You stepped in front of a weapon,” he snaps, and for the first time since we came inside, his composure cracks. Not rage exactly. Something sharper. Fear, maybe, wrapped in anger.
It makes my stomach flip in a way I don’t want to examine too closely.
“I’m not going to be coddled,” I say, forcing the words out. “I don’t need to be carried around like I’m delicate.”
Orpheus’s eyes narrow. “You are delicate.”
I bristle. “Excuse me?”
He steps closer, and I instinctively hold my ground. I won’t back away. I won’t.
“Compared to them,” he says, voice low. “Compared to what lives in the shadows of this city. Yes. You are.”
My chest tightens. “I’m not helpless.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
He pauses, gaze locking on mine.
“But you’re human,” he adds.
I force my voice steady. “And you keep saying that like it’s an insult.”
“It’s a fact,” he replies. “And facts get people killed when they’re ignored.”