Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
Cassia
Orpheus is already awake.
I don’t need to open my eyes to know that. I can feel it in the air, the tension pulled tight like a stretched tether rope. I can feel it inside me. Like he’s now a part of me.
In a way, he is. I realized after he bit me what he’d done. What had happened between us. I should’ve been angry about it, but I wasn’t. Things have changed between us, and I’m scared to voice it out loud for fear of him denying it.
It’s been three days since the last attack at the club, but he hasn’t let me go home. I’m starting to get used to being here and to his moods. Honestly, I don’t think I ever want to be away from him.
When I do open my eyes, I find him almost instantly. He’s standing near the window, shirtless, arms crossed, staring out at the town like it’s an enemy he expects to strike at any second.
I stay still for a moment longer, listening to his breathing. Slow. Controlled.
He hasn’t slept. Not really.
I push myself up on one elbow. “You’re going to wear a hole in the glass if you keep staring like that.”
He doesn’t turn. “It’s daylight.”
“So?”
“That’s when cowards move,” he replies. “They think the light makes them safer. That I can’t get to them. They think that because the sun shines bright I’m powerless, they’d be wrong.”
I sigh and swing my legs out of bed, ignoring the way my body still aches in places that make my face heat. “You can’t stay wound this tight forever.”
He finally looks at me then, turning those sharp, dark eyes in my direction. “I can when there’s a war breathing down my neck.”
I don’t argue. Not directly. I’ve learned that pushing Orpheus head-on is like trying to stop a tide with your hands. You don’t block him. You redirect. Give him something else to focus on.
I stand and walk over to him, wearing nothing, as that’s how I slept, careful not to crowd his space. “You, King of vampires, have been through worse, I’m sure.” I try to lighten the mood, and it works a bit.
With a huff, he replies, “Yes, and I survived by never relaxing.”
I tilt my head. “And how’s that working for you right now?”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t snap. Thankful that he keeps it in check. What he does, though, is curl an arm around me, tugging me flush against him.
“I’m not telling you to ignore the danger,” I breathe, wrapping my hands around his shoulders. “I’m telling you that if you don’t let people see you still standing, still ruling, then they win without lifting another blade.”
He watches me for a long moment, like he’s weighing my words against centuries of instinct. His eyes narrow. “What exactly does that mean for you? What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I think it’s time for a little fun. Maybe some festivities. Music, dancing, maybe even a theme.” I let the hint hang in the air. Surely, for someone who’s been alive as long as he has, he can’t be oblivious to the date.
“You’re asking me to throw a party?” he says, confused.
“I’m asking you to let me throw one,” I correct.
“Valentine’s Day is tonight. The town’s already buzzing.
If Dyrk closes or goes quiet, people will know something is wrong.
Valentine’s Day means something to people who want to try to find someone to spend it with. What better place to try than at Dyrk.”
The day after the attack, Orpheus worked wonders in getting the club fixed back up and running. They hadn’t even been closed that night since everything was back in order before it opened for the night.
He shakes his head in disbelief. “You want to paint the walls red and pretend everything’s fine.”
“I want to remind everyone that you’re still in control,” I say. “And maybe remind you too.”
Something flickers in his expression.
Reluctant consideration.
He exhales slowly. “I have meetings all day. Bikers. Suppliers. Allies who want reassurance.”
“I know,” I say. “Which is why you’re going to stay locked in your office being intimidating and strategic, and I’m going to take care of the rest.”
“You?” he repeats.
“Yes, me,” I say. “With Meg and Miriam.”
Meg, though still standoffish, has been somewhat nicer in her own way the past couple of days. I’ve helped her behind the bar a bit, though Orpheus doesn’t like for me to be away from him for long. When I worked behind the bar, he always kept his eyes on me.
He looks unconvinced at my suggestion, but I know me. I know I can do this. He doesn’t need people to think about the war brewing. He needs them to see him as who he is.
“I can do this,” I add quietly. “I need to do this. Sitting still makes my head too loud, and I don’t want to sit around while you’re dealing with everything.”
He squeezes me closer, lowering his voice. “If this is about distracting yourself from Talos—”
“It’s about not letting him win space in my head,” I cut in. In truth, I haven’t thought of Talos in the past few days. The man holding me in his arms has all but consumed my thoughts.
Orpheus’s gaze sharpens at the name, but he doesn’t push. He knows I’ll shut down if he does.
“Fine,” he says at last. “But you don’t leave the club. Not today.”
“I wasn’t planning on it,” I reply, even though I already am.
I don’t tell him about the dress I have picked out. I asked Miriam to bring it to the club for me yesterday when I spoke to her.
“Good.” Orpheus lowers his head and kisses me deeply.
Each time he kisses me, my body comes alive for him. I moan into the kiss, urging him to take it deeper.
Orpheus does just that at the same time, scooping me up and carrying me back to the bed. I know exactly what’s about to happen, and my stomach flutters with anticipation.
Two hours after sating the man who’s now stuck in his office, I got dressed and came down to the club to talk to Miriam, who came in early and was waiting for me at the bar. Meg was already there getting things ready for the night.
I give them both a quick rundown of what we need to do, which causes Miriam to squeal loudly. Meg nods but looks far less enthused.
“You want blood-red romance?” Miriam, eyes lighting up. “Please say yes.”
“Yes, this place needs to look amazing for tonight,” I tell her, and look at Meg. “What do you think?”
“It’ll be good for business. Lots of lonely humans coming in to find something. Might as well go with the feel of the day.” She shrugs. “I’ll put a call in to order what you want.”
“Thank you,” I tell her. “If you need my help . . .”
Meg lifts a hand and shakes her head. “Nope, the boss would have my ass if I let you.”
Miriam claps her hands together like it’s Christmas and speaks before I can. “Oh my god, finally. I was starting to think the apocalypse canceled romance.”
“It might still,” I mutter, flipping through fabric swatches with them. “But we’re going to look good doing it.” No reason to go down the rabbit hole of dark thoughts.
Over the course of the day, together we slowly and deliberately transform the club. Velvet drapes. Low lighting. Candles encased in dark glass so the flames flicker like trapped hearts. Roses everywhere. Deep red. Almost black.
Meg handles the bar like a general planning a campaign. She comes up with names for the drinks that make me choke laughing.
“Megara’s Kiss,” she says. “Blood Oath. Sinful Devotion.”
“I hate how on brand this is.” I laugh.
“You love it.” Miriam grins.
She’s right.
For a few hours, I almost forgot about Talos and everything else happening around us. Almost forgot about the note. About the way my old name looked on that paper like a threat.
Almost.
Then Meg hands me a drink menu mockup, and I see my hands shaking again.
I set it down and force a breath.
I won’t let fear ruin this.
I duck out in the late afternoon to get ready for the night and go up to Orpheus’s room. I do my hair and makeup before slipping on the dress. It’s beautiful, and when I look at myself in the mirror, I don’t recognize myself.
The dress I picked is red. Deep and dangerous. The kind of red that doesn’t ask permission. It hugs my body in a way that feels bold without being careless, the neckline low enough to tempt but not beg.
I feel like a temptress.
By the time night falls, Dyrk is alive again—music pulses. Laughter fills the space. The air smells like perfume, alcohol, and something darker underneath it all.
I go in search of Orpheus, knowing exactly where he is. So easily I can find him. I near his office when Orpheus emerges from his office dressed in black, sharp and immaculate, power clinging to him like a second skin.
When he sees me, he stops.
Just for a second.
It’s subtle, but I catch it.
“You’re staring,” I say lightly.
“You’re provoking,” he counters.
“Good.”
His gaze drags over me slowly. “You shouldn’t look like that.”
I lift a brow, my heart stutters, thoughts of him not liking what I’m wearing, though I don’t speak this. “Why? Afraid I’ll start a riot?”
He steps closer, voice low. “Afraid I’ll have to kill someone for looking too long.”
Heat curls low in my stomach.
He offers his arm.
Not orders.
Offers.
I take it, smiling up at him.
Together, we make our way down, and the moment we step onto the main floor together, the club shifts.
People notice. Conversations falter. Eyes turn.
This isn’t subtle.
This is a declaration.
Orpheus leads me onto the dance floor like he owns the ground beneath our feet, one hand settling at my waist, the other clasping mine.
The music slows.
He pulls me close, not grinding, not crude. Just intimate. Controlled.
We move together easily, like our bodies learned each other faster than our minds did.
“This sends a message,” I murmur.
“Yes,” he says. “It does. You were right. That’s the point. Send a message that they’ll all receive.”
I tilt my head back to look at him. “And what message is that?”
“That you’re mine,” he replies without hesitation and kisses me deeply.
I should object, but he’s right, and we both know it. I’m his.
Orpheus breaks the kiss, and I rest my forehead briefly against his chest, feeling the steady strength there. The way he’s still watching the room even while holding me.
I feel claimed. Safe.
When I start to believe we might make it through without incident, a hand grabs my arm hard.
I’m yanked backward into the shadows of the club violently.
My heart slams into my ribs.
I know that scent.
Talos smiles at me from the dark, eyes bright with something cruel and familiar.
“Miss me?” he murmurs. “I told you I’d find you.”
Before I can scream, the world explodes.
“You don’t get to touch what’s mine.” Orpheus is there in an instant, fury incarnate, slamming into Talos with bone-shaking force.
They crash through a table, glass and liquor spraying like rain.
The club erupts into chaos.
Talos laughs as he fights, metal flashing in his hands, divine fire sparking where their blows connect. “She’ll never be yours.”
Orpheus’s voice is a growl pulled from the depths of hell itself.
They collide again, power cracking the air between them.
Two half-gods locked in combat.
I realize, with cold certainty, that Valentine’s Day has just become a battlefield.