Chapter sixteen
Aedonaeus
When I arrive home, I’m emotionally drained. Minos and Hermes will be jealous that I didn’t have to consort with the worst people we know. Serves them right for talking about Josie. But I’m a man with a purpose, and it isn’t to go to stupid parties for people I don’t like.
Sam is asleep with his head in his hands when I walk in. I’m not going to wake the man. Minos’ bullshit already pissed me off, and I’m liable to take it out on the first person I see. So I leave him sleeping, not so peacefully, at his desk. The elevator whirs as I slump against the wall.
When the doors open the air in the penthouse is different. Someone is here. I catch the faint scent of pear. Josie?
Sure enough, her shoes are in the middle of the living room floor. It’s late to have company. I guess if she’s here for sex it’s better than nothing when it comes to her. Especially when she left so quickly the first time, and I left so quietly the last.
I spy her sitting on the floor leaning against the couch. Why she never sits on the actual furniture I may never know. There’s an ugly canvas bag on the floor next to her, and the weird book from the other day is open in her hands.
She doesn’t look up. “Where have you been?”
“Nowhere I wanted to be.” I shove my hands in the pockets of my tuxedo. A ridiculous ensemble if you ask me.
I wonder what it will be like, the day Josie wants to marry me. If she ever does. It won’t be a requirement when I take the throne. She can stand next to me and have an opinion regardless. Will we request that people wear crisp tuxedos and elegant dresses? I can’t imagine that sort of display would suit her tastes. When she says yes, I will rush her to the nearest altar praying she doesn’t change her mind on the way. If tonight has taught me anything, it’s that I can’t live without the woman in front of me pondering that decrepit book.
“That’s not an answer.” She’s sucking on a sugary pop, which is something I didn’t even think would look as hot as it does. The sticky candy is in her mouth with the stick poking out of the side at an angle. She fiddles with her fingernails. It must be something she’s doing because she doesn’t want me to know she smokes, even though I figured that out the other night.
“I was supposed to be at an engagement party.”
“Supposed to be?”
“Supposed to be,” I confirm.
Thank the fucking Universe you didn’t invite me.”
“You don’t like parties?” I was right.
“I despise them.” She looks at me briefly, sizing me up. “You look…” she trails off, not finishing her sentence and turns back to the book.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Figuring something out,” she ignores me. The candy clacks against her teeth.
“Do you mind sharing with the class?” It’s a reach. Josie still hasn’t said much about herself, but I suppose I haven’t either. I’m going to have to give her something to get something in return. I sit next to her, keeping just a little distance so she doesn’t shrink away.
She huffs. “Why do you care?”
“This book.” I tap it. “It’s in a language called Mondurian.” I sound like a fucking idiot. I don’t know where to start.
“Okay.”
I try again. “I’ve never met anyone that can read it. Including the person who gave it to me. I don’t think they would have gifted it to me if they thought it was worth something, but it seems to be worth something to you.”
She’s considering what I’ve said. “If I told you it was stolen from me, what would you say?”
I’ve never seen her this serious before. Her body is tense, and her breaths are shallow. She crunches down on the candy and lays the stick on the table carefully.
“I would say, you’re probably right.”
She releases her tight shoulders, but only a sliver. Her anxiety seems to rest in my bones; I can feel it.
After a moment of contemplating my words she says, “No one can read it?”
“Not one living soul. Except for you.”
She’s chewing on her bottom lip anxiously. “I’m an orphan, I think.”
“I was adopted when I was younger, but I wasn’t a baby. Still, I can’t remember my parents,” I admit. “I don’t remember anything. I woke up one day, with two people standing over me, claiming to be my adopted parents.”
The stress re-enters her body. She looks like she's going to flee, but she hasn’t yet. It’s my honesty holding her here. There is nothing except for her, and I submit.
“Ever since then I’ve worked for Hades,” I divulge.
“Why are you telling me this? You know I don’t like him, right?”
“I figured you probably didn’t. I’m being honest. I’m giving myself to you. I don’t want to keep secrets.” My statement sits on the table in front of us. I didn’t know I would say it like that.
“I had an accident,” she says slowly. “I drowned…”
That’s a monumental bit of information. Maybe that’s what her demons are, but my gut tells me there’s more.
“I was saved by…When I woke, I was with Kate. She’s the one who taught me to speak Mondurian. She was insistent that I learn. We read this book hundreds of times.”
“Where is she now?”
“Dead. Murdered.” She scrunches her face up in indecision. A series of emotions pass through her features. Some of them I know, like grief. Drowning and murder? That could definitely give someone nightmares.
“That’s a bit extreme,” I respond.
She lays her head back on the couch, her ice blonde hair flowing over the side, staring at the ceiling. “She died because of me,” she says softly. “They both did.”
I see Josie, the pieces of who she is melded together. Not all of them, but enough. She’s wildly beautiful, chaotic, and brilliant, but she’s also haunted by darkness. Just like me. Besides all the other things, I know what I feel for her. Admiration. Persephone was right, I’m in love with her. It’s beating on my rib cage and pulsing on my tongue.
“Whoever killed them is going to use me then kill me, too.” She laughs like she just said the funniest thing in the world. A sick feeling twists in my stomach, and everything starts to fall into place. They’re going to kill her. This beautiful enigmatic goddess. Someone wants to kill her and take her from my world. What happened to make her tell me?
“And you need to figure out why?”
“Precisely.”
“And you think it’s in this book?”
She looks at me with those sharp silver eyes. “Can I trust you?”
Trust. It’s something I’ve never really been asked. It’s just been handed to me without question. Am I a trustworthy man? I suppose I am. I want her to trust me. “I would do anything to make sure I never lost yours.”
She turns back to the book pensively. “Pandora was a woman made of innocence. She was pure.”
Pandora. The story Vivian liked. The one Josie called a dumb bitch.
“You said something about her the first time you grabbed this book. I’ve never heard the story.”
“I’ve realized people have purity all wrong,” she continues, more to herself than to me. “It’s all about intention and Hope. Trust. It’s about sacrifice. It offers salvation and destruction.”
“Saviors or destroyers,” I remember.
“Same thing.” She sits up and gives me a genuine smile. “I don’t know why I came here. I should leave.”
“Tell me the story,” I encourage her. Maybe it'll buy me a few extra minutes.
She wavers for a moment before settling back against the couch.
“I used to judge Pandora. She was considered innocent and pure. The story goes that there was a box that held all of the evil of the world. Pandora was told not to open it, but naturally, her curiosity got the best of her. Once she realized what she had done, she slammed the lid shut, but it was too late. The evil had been released, and the only thing remaining inside was Hope. Pandora was no longer pure or innocent, so she couldn’t open it again.” There’s regret in her voice.
“People make mistakes,” she deflates. “I shouldn’t have been so harsh, but that’s the gist. Pandora was told not to open it, she did, and she left the world hopeless. The Hōyas damned her for it. You know them as the Leviathan.”
“So that’s where the legend comes from?” She has a strange look on her face, like she knows something I don’t. As if she feels true regret for this Pandora character. As if the Hōyas are something to be spoken about in hushed voices. “They’re real?” I’m stunned.
“I used to not think so. They aren’t really referenced as the Leviathan in this story. Then I saw the box. The one in the museum. Pandora’s box.”
“Pandora’s box,” I repeat as a whisper.
“You didn’t ask me about my scars.”
I try to process this information. “Pardon?”
The scars. I’d seen them before, just not on her. I didn't say anything because it didn’t seem like the right time. I was a little distracted.
“The symbols on my skin.” She stands up and holds her arm out. “They’re the same as the ones on the box. You didn’t say a word about it. Why?”
That’s a complicated question. I’m trying to figure out how to answer when she starts gathering her things. “This is a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here.”
Fuck. It’s now or never. Persephone spoke of loneliness, and I need to make sure she realizes she’s not alone. “Wait.”
I go to her. Her scars are exposed, crawling out of her tank top and down her arm. Since we had sex, she has shed the long sleeves I always saw her in. There is one thing I’ve kept to myself. I need to do it before I lose the nerve, before she leaves. Maybe for good since she’s said too much. I have to tell her. My fingers trace across her chest and over her shoulder.
She wants to run, I can feel it, but she’s forcing herself to stay. I part my black suit jacket and unbutton the crisp white shirt, exposing my painted skin. I don’t usually like to be touched, so I’ve never had anyone see. The only one who ever seemed to notice was Josie in the club that night when she ran her hands along my stomach. It felt so good, but I had stopped it because I was so set on sleeping with her and taking off. I take her fingers and trail them across my chest, outlining my own scars that have been covered by tattoos.
At first, she’s annoyed, but I see the shift when she realizes. “They’re just like mine,” she whispers. Those gray eyes look up at me with incredulous wonder.
Her angelic face hovers just above my skin. Her hands examine me, outlining every single detail. This is the truth of why she can trust me. She isn’t alone. We’re the same. Every touch of her cold fingers sends a deep thrill through me. My dick is hard, but it has been since I saw her sitting there.
She caresses my neck, feeling the last few symbols. Her hand retracts, but instead of scuttling away, she slaps me right across the fucking face. Pain erupts from my cheekbone. I don’t acknowledge it. I deserve it for asking so much of her and giving nothing real in return. She searches my face waiting for me to rebuke her, but I say nothing. Then she rises on the tips of her toes and kisses me.
“Stay?” I ask.
“Maybe for a little while,” she murmurs.
Tonight is the most she has ever given to me. It feels good finally exposing myself. I can tell she’s vulnerable again, and she chose to come here. While it excites me, it’s also worrying. She could have gone to her sister, to anyone else, but she came here.
“Did something happen?” I ask her, tucking her hair behind her ear. She tries to kiss me again, and I dodge her.
She huffs. “What? You don’t want to fuck me?”
“Oh, I do. So very much, but I can’t help wondering why you came here.”
“There was nowhere else to go,” she argues.
“Your sister’s?” I offer.
“I didn’t want to go there. I wanted to come here,” she says with precision. Her face falters when she realizes what she’s admitted to me. “Don’t let it get to your head. I just wanted a distraction.”
I know what it really is. Just like the other night, I don’t make her feel so alone. She tears herself away from my grasp and starts pacing around the room under the guise of inspecting things. Josie is restless. Maybe she couldn’t sleep.
“You’re pacing.”
“I’m not.”
I head over to the bar cart and pour her a heavy drink. She takes it without looking at me and swallows the entire thing. I wonder if anyone has ever assessed her needs. It doesn’t seem like it. Does Josie take what she wants? I believe so, but there's a part of her that hasn’t been touched. She told me whoever killed this Kate person wants to kill her.
She whirls on me. “Why didn’t you show me the scars before?”
“I was afraid.”
“Why?” she scoffs, gripping the glass.
“The same reason you don’t show yours. No one has ever seen them before. Only my parents.” Josie reaches over and trails them with her fingertip again, and I shudder. “Feels good,” I murmur. This time she doesn’t stop.
“They’re the same as Pandora’s box.”
“They are,” I confirm.
Josie sinks to the floor onto the plush rug. She leans against the glass wall, putting her back to the city. “Is that why you want me?”
I wasn’t expecting her to ask that. I didn’t notice hers the first few times I saw her. They’re irrelevant to how I feel, just another piece to the puzzle of the Fates. I sink down next to her, extending my legs and stealing a sip from her cup.
“No. I didn’t know you had them until the day it rained. When we…When…You know. It was an act of the Fates for you and I to meet.”
“You believe in the Fates?” Her voice is soft, and curiosity burns in her eyes.
“I believe in Destiny, too.” I look away from her. The vulnerable way she sits next to me makes me want to snatch her up, but I know she would hate that.
“Is there a difference?”
“Fate is like a meeting. It was fate to meet you at the pub. Destiny is what happens after.”
“That makes sense,” she acquiesces.
“You are more than a conquest,” I tell her, opening myself up. It’s true.
“You don’t know me.” She rolls her eyes. “If you want to have sex just say that. You don’t have to listen to my pity party to get it.”
“Josie, Josie, Josie.” I shake my head. “You don’t understand. I’m waiting for you. My whole life I’ve been waiting for you.”
There it is, laid out in the space between us.
“You don’t mean that.”
“I mean every bit of it. I’m infatuated with you. Obsessed. Compulsive for you. I’m addicted. I’m in love with your atmosphere, and the way you manage to tell me to fuck off in so many ways that it’s infuriating. I would make any deal with you. I would agree to spend an eternity in Tartarus if it meant that I could have five more minutes with you. I’m hopelessly pining after you. I don’t need to know your favorite fucking color to know that. I’ll fuck you every day if it means that you come back.”
She stares at me as if I’ve hit her. “I…”
“You don’t have to say anything, love. It’s not a requirement to get what you want from me. I’ll give it freely. No questions asked. You can trust me.”
Telling her lifts a massive weight from my soul. I’ll give her the world and then some. I’ve practically told her I love her without stringing those three words together.
“The last boy that loved me…He died,” she stammers.
“I would die for you, too,” I agree. The look on her face goes from stricken to horrified, but she doesn’t make a move to leave.
“But why? I’m difficult. I’m violent. I-”
“Let me stop you, Jos. Whoever told you those things is right. You’re also chaotic. You are all those things. I’m not going to argue that you aren’t. If that’s what you want me to do, I won’t. To me, those things are what draw me to you.”
“I came here because I…I don’t know. I was compelled to. I can’t go home because…I didn’t know where I was going and found myself here.” She looks at the empty glass in her hands instead of at me.
“I’m glad you did. You can stay as long as you want.”
“I don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to.” I grin.
She groans. “I don’t like it.”
“Do you want me to leave? You can stay here.” I don’t want to go, but I will if it means that I know where she is, and that she gets the safety she seeks.
“Yes. No. I don’t think so. I just want to be. Everyone wants something from me. I don’t want to think. I don’t want to be alone.” A tear slips from her eye, but she brushes it away before it can fall far.
“I won’t leave you alone. Ever. I’ve been consumed by you, Jos, and there’s no coming back from it. You won’t get away from me,” I promise. Her eyes are wild and scared, but as she looks into mine she registers my sincerity. “I’ll stay. You can do whatever you want, and I’ll just be here.”
“It sounds weird when you put it like that,” she winces.
“To want the presence of another is not weird. You want to exist in the same space as someone else.” I shrug.
“Not someone. You.” She says it like it’s poison; the sweetest kind.
“I want the same thing. I have no expectations of you. Your presence is enough.” I tap her knee and hoist myself up. I offer her a hand and she takes it, letting me pull her to her feet.
“I know what you need.” I sweep her into my arms and hold her tight to my chest.
She fights and tries to punch me. “What are you fucking doing!?”
I carry her into the bathroom depositing her in the large stone shower. I start the water, and it rains down from the ceiling. I saw the tiny, cramped bathroom she's been using for years. This is infinitely better.
“This is the best place to forget the world. You’ll feel better after a hot shower, love.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Can’t you just enjoy something?” I chide. Silence descends between us, the sound of the water splattering against the tile taking up the space.
She lifts her chin defiantly. “I can.”
Josie looks up at the water with appreciation. The way to a girl’s heart is a good shower. I motion for her to raise her arms and proceed to undress her, like a doll. Then I take her hands in mine as gently as I can manage, pulling her with me underneath the water while I’m fully clothed. Her eyes close, and she sighs with relief. I bite the inside of my cheek trying not to smile. She’s liable to attack me.
“There you go,” I tell her.
“Mmm,” she moans. My dick twitches, threatening to get hard again. Once she’s basking in the heat, I head toward the exit and shake my head free of the excess water.
Her head snaps to attention. “Where are you going?”
“You wanted to be away from me not even five minutes ago,” I point out.
Josie is clearly a solitary creature. The more space I give her, the longer she’ll stay. I’m sure of it. I need her to seek me out, even though I want to crush her against me for eternity. She rolls it around in her head, chewing on her lip.
“Take as long as you want.” I shoot her a grin and fetch her a towel, hanging it on the wall of the steaming room. Then I place fresh clothes for her onto the counter.
Once I’m out of the bathroom, I try to deal with my possessive thoughts. Now I’m wide awake. I want to outline each scar and compare them to mine. I want to taste her cherry mouth every chance I get. But I want to know more than her body. I want to know her mind. She’s a master at deflection, but I didn’t get this far without a little determination. She doesn’t want to be alone, and I can do that for her.
I try to busy myself by flipping through the mail on the counter. It’s all junk. Once I’ve tossed that in the trash, I realize she probably hasn’t eaten since I made her dinner the other night. I open the fridge and pull out some ingredients, whipping up some more pasta like the kind she inhaled in her kitchen. I have too many questions about these killers, about where she’s from, but it'll have to wait for another day.
When I finish, I wander past the door. The shower is still running. I enter my office across the hall and sit at the desk, drumming my fingers on the edge. Papers are scattered across it in varying degrees of urgency. I force myself to sort through and organize them by priority.
The invitation to Eris’ stupid engagement party sits at the bottom of the pile. Thank the Universe I didn’t have to see her stupid fucking face tonight. I wouldn’t have made it home for hours and maybe Josie would have been gone by then.
Hades swore Eris stole the box from him, but now we know that isn’t true. She just skimmed money. If she had, she wouldn’t have put it on exhibit. I shuffle through the papers reading over reports. I’m so engrossed that I don’t hear the shower stop, I don’t hear Josie get food, and I don’t feel her presence until the scent of pears and jasmine wafts in.
I set the papers down and turn to watch her. She comes in and trails her fingers over the spines of the books that line the walls with a bottle of whiskey in her hand. Seeing her in my clothes again does something to me.
She stops, pulling one book out, and settles on the floor against the comfortable chair in the corner of the room. She cocks an eyebrow when she catches me watching her, and I spin back around to continue going through shit. It’s almost impossible to focus knowing that she’s sitting there.
After a while, I chance another look, and she’s upside down in the chair. Her feet are propped up on the top with her head hanging off the edge of the seat. Half-dried wavy bright blonde hair cascades to the floor, and the book is positioned in front of her face. Her eyes move rapidly over the pages, taking in the words.
It makes me smile. Josie didn’t have to sit there, but she did. She could have taken the book into the living room. She could have taken it anywhere, but she didn’t. My presence is all she wants. Simple.
Several hours pass, and the moon is high in the sky. The next time I look at her, she’s sideways in the chair, her feet dangling off, with the book slipping from her hand onto the floor. The bottle of liquor she'd come in with is empty. Her eyes are closed, asleep. The beautiful girl is sleeping, albeit uncomfortably. She didn’t leave. I weigh the risks of moving her but decide to put her to bed.
I scoop her into my arms. She doesn’t wake immediately. I carry her into my bedroom and lay her onto the mattress.
“Mhm." I bend down next to her and push her hair out of her face. She wakes, shrinking away from the touch, but then she leans into it. Her tired silver eyes flutter open. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
Josie tries to sit up, but I push her shoulder back down. I can see how tired she is. It looks like she hasn’t slept in days. Not since I laid down beside her in her bedroom. I pull the sheets over her. Her lids are heavy with exhaustion. When she realizes that she’s in my bed, she fully opens her eyes, ready to argue.
“Don’t,” I command. She gives me a dirty look and pulls the blankets up to her chin. I make a move to leave, and she makes an irritated noise.
“Where are you going?” she yawns. I lean in the doorway of the dark room, her eyes shining at me from under the blankets.
“Where do you want me to go?”
“It’s your bed.” She tries to sound snippy, but she’s so tired that it just sounds like a statement of fact. It’s as much of an invitation as I’ll get.
I trudge over, pull my shirt over my head, and slide under the covers next to her. I lay out on the opposite side of the bed, making sure I keep my distance. I don’t expect her to acknowledge me, but she does. Josie scoots her body into mine. In the darkness there's a lump where she lays. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to touch her. She flips over and inches into me again, with her head tucked under my shoulder.
Josie doesn’t say anything, and I hover my arm above her, unsure. She sighs loudly, purposefully, so I shove my arm under her and lift her head onto my chest. The girl of my dreams is in my bed, and she’s sleeping. It’s the most intimate thing you can do with a person. The most vulnerable for someone like her.
“I like you,” she murmurs into my skin, a little drunk.
“I know.” I trace a scar on her shoulder absentmindedly. Her hand slithers from under the covers and traces the ones on my throat.
“I used to think I loved him, too,” she says quietly.
“The boy who died?” I clench my jaw. I can feel it twitching.
“Yes.”
I’m jealous, I can’t help it. “Used to?”
“Until I met you.” Her words are suspended above us.
“You feel it, too?” I ask her. Our souls are intertwined, but I don’t know how.
“It feels like…cosmic or something stupid. That’s what it feels like, right?”
Like moths to flames we can’t resist each other, and I’m ready to burn. I’m grateful that she feels it, too. The confirmation eases me somehow. She’ll always be back.
“Inevitable,” I agree.
“But doesn’t it feel like it’s tragic? Like there’s a darkness deep inside of it?” she hesitates.
This is the part I've been trying to ignore. The unsettling thing my father said has bothered me since the first time we spoke about her. Fate is a dreadful mistress. I don’t know what he meant, but it doesn’t sound good. It’s been easy to ignore it when I’m with Josie. It feels like the darkness is creeping up on us, but it doesn’t feel wrong, per say. It feels like we’re consuming each other, creating a whirling void.
I swallow and nod, not able to voice it.
“So we’re doomed then?” Her revelation sounds almost hopeful.
“Undeniably so.”
We’re doomed. Doomed to be together; doomed to fall in love; doomed to fall prey to the demons; doomed for destruction. Whatever we do, we are doomed. Our love will be catastrophic, but it feels like I've been waiting for an eternity to see her again. It feels like I lost the greatest treasure, and I’m finally getting it back. Maybe there’s more to our lost memories. I’m going to meet with Hades, and I plan to ask him about it. I don’t believe in coincidences anymore.