Chapter 21
Iwake in the softest bed imaginable, stretching my arms and legs beneath cool, satiny sheets that glide like water over my skin. It feels like I’ve surfaced from a long, strange dream. Disoriented, but not in a bad way.
Somewhere overhead, psychedelic rock drifts in from hidden speakers. The vocals are low and dreamy, the guitar thrumming like a heartbeat.
Wish You Were Here. Pink Floyd.
One of my favorites.
I sit up and glance around. The lighting is dim and hazy; I can’t see much.
The fact that I don’t immediately know where I am doesn’t bother me as much as it probably should.
I feel safe. Cocooned. Somehow, I know there’s no danger here—unless it’s the danger of getting too comfortable in a bed the size of a small country, listening to one of the best rock bands of all time.
“Mmmm.” I sigh, burrowing deeper into the sheets. They smell incredible, like my mother’s homemade lavender soap blended with something sweeter I can’t quite place.
A deep, almost unnatural drowsiness settles over me, my eyelids growing heavy as sleep begins to drag me back under again.
“You’re finally awake. Took you long enough.”
My eyes snap back open and I turn. A massive figure towers against the far wall, arms crossed, watching me from the shadows like he’s been there a while. Bright green eyes flick toward mine, cool, amused, and vaguely bored.
It’s him.
Nikolas.
The impossibly gorgeous guy from Hayes’s house. The one with the shock of white hair, the wicked scar, and the attitude. He’s still in the head-to-toe black leather ensemble from Hayes’s house, but now there’s a sword strapped to his side.
A literal fucking sword.
He looks like some dark knight or ancient assassin. It’s objectively alarming. But also… not not hot?
“Where… where am I?” I ask, my voice scratchy, like it hasn’t been used in days. “What are you doing here? Where’s Hayes?” I yawn, my jaw popping. “And why am I so freaking tired?”
“It’s the atmosphere down here,” he says. “It can take a toll on the body. You’ll adjust.”
Oh, right.
Down here.
As in, the Underworld.
A shiver ripples through me as everything comes rushing back. The ghosts, the black river, the skeleton ferryman, docking at the Palace gates and then… nothing. The rest blurs.
“So that was all real? I’m really in… Hades?” I ask. “I didn’t dream it?”
“Afraid not.”
“So, uh, what happens now?”
“Not my job to explain. That’s for Hayden and the royals,” he says coolly. “I was just here to make sure you didn’t wander off or choke in your sleep. Now that you’re conscious, I’m off babysitting duty.”
He turns toward the door, then pauses. The corner of his mouth lifts in quiet, mocking amusement.
“Glad you survived the journey. Next time, try not to pass out,” he says. “See you around, Alysander.”
Pass out? What’s that supposed to mean?
But he’s gone before I can ask.
A beat later, Hayes appears.
“Hey, sleepyhead. How are you feeling?” he asks, his voice low and threaded with concern as he rushes over to me.
He’s changed since I last saw him. He now wears a tailored black velvet suit, sharp and effortless.
Shimmering gold trim runs along the lapels and cuffs, like fire flickering at the seams. Cufflinks glint at his wrists, and a gold pin rests on his lapel, ancient and ornate.
The pin bears a snarling three-headed dog—ruby eyes glowing, a serpent coiled around its body, just like the one carved into the Palace gates.
The effect of it all is startling. Commanding. Powerful.
“Uh, why are you dressed like that?”
His eyes glint with a hint of teasing.
“You don’t like it?”
“No, I—” I rub at my temples, trying to push back the strange fatigue. “You look good. Really good. It’s just… what’s with the whole Gothic CEO vibe?”
He chuckles, pulling the soft duvet up and tucking it gently around my shoulders, then leans in. His fingers brush a strand of hair from my cheek.
He’s so close, I can feel his breath, cool and steady, ghosting across my skin.
“You really scared me for a minute there, Alligator.”
“I did?”
“Yeah, you fainted the second we crossed the Palace threshold. Dropped like a stone.”
I groan, dropping my face into my hands. That must’ve been what Nikolas was talking about.
“Oh my God. That’s mortifying.”
“Yeah, you kind of said that already—a few dozen times—while I was carrying you upstairs.”
Wait—
“You… carried me?”
“What else was I supposed to do?” He raises a brow. “Drag you by the ankles?”
I burrow deeper into the sheets, heat creeping up my neck. “Please tell me I didn’t drool.”
“Just a little,” he teases.
The chandelier overhead blinks to life as someone bursts through the door and flips a switch.
“So how’s the little patient doing?”
My sister saunters into the room, and Hayes jolts back like he’s been electrocuted, quickly retreating from the bed and taking a seat on the chaise lounge across from me.
I gape at Amber. Gone are the frilly pink dresses and ruffled miniskirts.
Instead, she’s clad in a stunning black gown I’d kill for, all taffeta and lace.
A boned corset cinches her waist, the tiered skirt pooling like smoke around her heels.
Her hair is twisted into a sleek French knot, the bangs pinned with sparkling diamond skull clips.
“What in the actual hell is going on?” I turn back to Hayes. “And why do you both look like you’re headed to a party at the Haunted Mansion?”
“I know, right? It’s horrid. Black is so not my color.
” Amber flops dramatically onto the edge of my bed, careful not to wrinkle her floor-length gown.
“So,” she says, gesturing grandly around the room, “what do you think of the digs? I made sure they gave you the best suite in the guest wing.” She winks. “Well—second best.”
I forget to be confused, or even annoyed, as I take in the room properly for the first time in the light.
The bed alone is a fantasy.
Massive and romantic, carved from dark wood with black silk drapes that spill down from a towering canopy.
A whole family could sleep in it with room to spare.
Beside me, sleek black-lacquered nightstands hold glowing candelabras and stacks of leather-bound books, their titles embossed in gold—but not English words. Greek, maybe?
At the other end of the room is a matching desk and more books, packed into shelves that stretch toward the vaulted ceiling.
A large mirror framed in glinting obsidian crystals hangs on the wall, and next to it, a vanity table crowded with more makeup brushes and tools than even Amber owns back home, which is really saying something.
Damn.
If this is just a guest bedroom, I can’t imagine what the rest of the Palace looks like.
“Minus all the black, yuck, it’s to die for, right?” Amber chirps. “I mean, literally. Underworld, death—get it?”
“This isn’t a joke,” Hayes says, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “You know what’s at stake.”
“You’re right.” Amber’s tone flips from playful to regretful in an instant. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to keep things upbeat.”
She rises from the bed and drapes herself beside him on the chaise. Their legs brush, her arm sliding across his knee, fingers trailing like she owns him.
A wave of something hot and ugly spikes in my chest. I claw my fingers into the sheets, twisting them into angry knots. She’s touching him like he’s hers again. Like he didn’t give me the best, most life-altering kiss of my life just hours ago.
The memory flares—his mouth on mine, the way he held me as if I was the only thing keeping him upright. Like he’d been dying to do that his entire life.
And now he’s just sitting there, letting her press against him like none of it ever happened?
Before I can spin out further, I force myself to breathe. To focus on the situation at hand. Now isn’t the time to fixate on my sister’s hand placement. Bigger questions first.
“Okay, what am I missing?” I sit up straighter, my gaze flicking between them. “What stakes?”
“It’s a long story,” Hayes says, rising to his feet and pulling Amber up with him. “And you need to rest.”
I kick the covers off with a huff, the silky fabric slipping to the floor like a fallen curtain. “I’m not going back to sleep until you start talking.”
“Tomorrow,” Hayes calls over his shoulder, already halfway to the door, Amber at his side. “Ambs and I have dinner with my mother. And we’re already late.”
I shoot him a sharp look. “Kora’s here too?”
“I told you. Long story.”
“Then give me the short version!” I snap. “Starting with your cousins. Like the guy who was in here five minutes ago, watching me sleep, with a sword at his side and major ruthless assassin energy. Call me crazy, but something tells me they’re not actually your family.”
I picture bitchy Selene and the flirty little looks she gave Hayes. Definitely not cousin behavior.
Then Nikolas flashes through my mind: that sexy smirk, those cold eyes like bottled forest fire. He might be good looking enough to pass for a Vassilios, but he’s no blood relative. Of that, I’m certain.
Hayes stops in the doorway, his shoulders sinking like someone who’s just realized they’ve lost the fight.
“They’re Watchers.” He turns back and exhales slowly. “They protect what matters here. Territory. Gates. High-ranking houses,” he says. “And the strongest serve my family.”
“They’re, like, our bodyguards,” Amber chimes in.
I’m pretty sure she’s trying to be helpful, but it only grates. I hate that she clearly knows more about whatever’s going on than I do.
And why is she so damn zen about everything?
If anything, she should be the one freaking out about being trapped in the Underworld. She’s supposed to be the sunshine-and-glitter sister. The one who screams at spiders and cries over chipped nails.