Chapter eighteen
Josephine
For three days I tortured McFadden. I probably drew it out a little more than necessary, but I needed to release some of the vengeful anger that's been brewing since the day it all turned upside down. Stafford left me to it for a while before bringing in the others. It’s the only time I really let myself go this far. I’ve doled out punishments, but nothing this severe. I don’t like killing, but I’ll make you wish for it. Caleb is the one with the iron fist. I have more fun playing with toys, not breaking them.
What McFadden did was personal. Not only to me, but to everyone else. He endangered everyone’s lives because of his greed. We’re a proud people, but no one among us is afraid to get messy.
His head hangs over his chest, like he’s just passed out instead of being almost lifeless. Blackened bruises line both sides of his face, and there's a red line around his neck where he was strangled close to death more than once. ‘Traitor’ has been carved across his chest. The smell of iron and burnt flesh permeates the air. Blood pools on the floor underneath him and covers my body. With how much there is you would think he had bled out already, but I’m not a merciful bitch.
I thought maybe I could feed some of the darkness swirling inside of me, the one that ruptures in Aedon’s presence. Usually, it’ll recede and slowly build back up waiting for the next dance with death, but it’s still hungry. Each inflicted torture made me aroused. It’s sick. I can usually relieve stress, not channel it into unbearable sexual frustration.
“Really went all out, didn’t ya?” Stafford strides in followed by Caleb, dismissing the others. I stare at McFadden’s slouched form in silence. His eyes roll over me. “Next time I give ya a leave, remind me not to.”
I look down at myself. My knuckles are bruised and bleeding. Blood stains my hands and is encrusted in my nail beds. It drips down my arms and is soaked into my clothes. I’m sure it’s smeared on my face. My hair is matted with it. I can’t help myself. I smile.
“There she is,” Stafford grins. “Ya should shower before we go.”
“Go?”
“It’s time to go home, Jo. It’s not safe here in Asphodel for any of us. Especially you.”
“No,” I protest.
“Ya don’t wanna go home?”
I stay silent. I want to go home, more than anything. For four years it’s what I’ve secretly longed for, but it’s also the place where I lost everything. There is no home to return to. I don’t feel like that girl anymore. I’m done running. There’s also Aedon. If I go, I won’t be able to come back. I’ve done it once, and I don’t want to do it again. This would be an easy escape from him. I could disappear and move on, or I could stay and venture into the unknown. Either way it’s my choice. I won’t let anyone take that from me again.
“Everyone is goin’,” he adds.
“What?”
“Everyone is leavin’. Packed up and headin’ back home. We should’ve done it a long time ago.”
I swallow. I wonder if Vivian knows. She might jump at the opportunity to go home. Bella would never protest. If she told Bella to stab herself, Bella would ask ‘how deep’. I can’t go. I won’t go. Don’t look back. Vivian and I agreed on that.
“When is everyone leaving?” My voice is hoarse. McFadden wasn’t the only one screaming. Mine was just in rage.
“It’ll take a week. The complex is just about cleared. Fiona took it upon herself to organize everyone. I didn’t realize how many of us have moved to Asphodel. Then you’ve got the outliers travelin’ here, too.”
I make my decision and turn on my heel, leaving the house before Stafford can protest. “Good luck.”
He may have asked, but I know better. That wasn’t a question. No one will take me back to the Republic, not even kicking and screaming. I’ll kill them if they try.
As I walk across the courtyard, everyone is staring. Mostly the wives. They wanted to talk all this time. Let them stare. Let them see who I am. I’m done running, and I’m done hiding. There is nothing left to take from me. No one left to put a face on for. Once they’re gone none of it will matter. I won’t be Josie the Remnant or Josie the rabid Rem Dog. I’ll just be fucking Josie.
Everyone has suitcases and bags hanging from their shoulders. Children hold their parents’ hands. They're really going home, back to supposed safety. I know better. It wasn’t safe enough to keep Killian and Kate alive. With me there, I would just be putting everyone in danger anyways.
“It was the right thing to do,” a voice calls from the other side of the yard. I pause and swivel my head, identifying it. Low and behold it belongs to Fiona.
She approaches me slowly, and the others fall in behind her. For once, instead of judgment there's something I never thought I would see: Appreciation. They’re all shaken. Betrayal is new for them. They’ve been affected so harshly that they’re all abandoning their lives here. Some of them have never even been to the Republic.
“Did he suffer?” she asks with malice.
I look her in the eyes. “He did. And anyone else who hurts you will, too.”
It’s a promise and I mean it. Our defense strategy isn’t working, so we need to change it, and McFadden was the catalyst for that change. Being separated from the Remnant will solidify their safety. I’m throwing myself to the sharks. I’ll do it with Aedon or alone.
She gives me a nod. “Are ya comin’ with us?”
“No.” I think I catch a glimpse of sadness in her eyes. Who would’ve thought that Fiona, of all people, would miss me.
“Be safe, Josephine. Take care o’ yerself. Maybe shower. I hope to see ya again someday.” She grips me in a quick tearful hug, despite my blood-soaked body, before returning to the crowd of people huddled around us. Fiona starts barking orders, and people tote their luggage, loading it onto trailers. A mass exodus. It’s for the best. I hope they find peace in the Republic.
There’s no point in going to my apartment. There’s nothing left of it. Aedon wants to marry me, but he doesn’t know who I really am. Sam said it didn’t matter, but I’m full of murder-fueled confidence. I’m finally my true self.
He thinks I’m violent, but he has no idea. He hasn’t seen me when I have nothing left to lose. It doesn’t hurt that I love to make an impression. Let him reject me, then maybe this strange dynamic we have can be over. I can cut ties with everything and be forced to start over where no one knows me.
I don’t bother with the walk. I can’t exactly trek through the city covered in blood without attracting attention. I wheel my motorcycle out of the shed and kick start it. All bets are off now that things are escalating. I’ve been reserved and hiding, trying to protect everyone. I’m not doing that shit anymore. I shove my helmet over my head and take off while Caleb and a few others escort people into the trucks. They watch me go without protest. Maybe they’re glad to be rid of me, the strange girl who showed up in the middle of the night with nothing. The one who brought about the destruction of their lives. I don’t blame them one fucking bit.
Once I roll up to Aedon’s building, Sam whips the door open. Instead of dismounting, I drive directly through the doorway. When I squeeze past him, he looks surprised, but he lets me by without a word. I jab my finger on the elevator button impatiently. It dings immediately, the doors sliding open, and I roll in, revving the engine impatiently.
Sam hurries in behind me and swipes the key card, pressing the button for the penthouse. When he exits the elevator, he watches me, shaking his head with a smile. I’ll give Aedon a run for his money. He said he liked all the chaotic shit about me, and I’m going to make him fucking prove it.
When the elevator opens again, the smell of exhaust trickles out around me into the foyer. I drive straight into the living room, right into a scene. Minos and Hermes are standing at the counter with their mouths gaping open. I haven’t seen them since they came to help Vivian move, and that was brief. I have no idea what they know about me. I guess they’ll figure it out.
I dismount, turn the bike off, and let it crash to the floor. Aedon looks like the most unbothered person in the fucking Universe, like I didn’t just disappear for several days and then insanely road rage into his penthouse covered in blood. I yank off my helmet, my blood-stained hair cascading out, and toss it onto the couch. Hermes looks like he might pass out, and Minos might, too.
Aedon is still unphased by the display, until his eyes land on the blood. He lifts one eyebrow with slight concern. “Yours?”
“No.”
There's a hum in his chest. Hermes’ and Minos’ eyes are bulging from their sockets.
“You came back.” There is a knowing smirk at the corner of his mouth.
“You didn’t give me a choice,” I point out. With his tongue in his cheek, he disappears down the hallway into his office.
“Josie?” Hermes manages to utter.
Aedon reappears with a piece of paper and holds it out to me with a pen.
“What’s this?”
Blood from my fingers smears onto the delicate white paper. My eyes scan over the words quickly. It’s a marriage certificate. I need to sign it. That was the demand, after all. I hesitate for a moment, almost losing all the confidence I blazed into this place with. Aedon narrows his eyes at my pause, and I remember why it is that I want nothing more than to bind myself to him.
He doesn’t shut down my crazy. He is going to accept it without question. Aedon looked at me covered in someone else’s blood, smelling like death, intruding into his space like a lunatic, and he handed me a marriage contract. He spent weeks just letting me traipse around and treat his home like my personal hotel. Sam said he’s obsessed and that there's nothing like it. I’m something to be obsessed with. Aedon reminds me every time he looks at me.
“I don’t see an altar,” I argue, remembering that he said he would fuck me on one. I don’t know what I expected. Some kind of wedding, I guess. I’m grateful that he knows I wouldn’t want some gaudy attention seeking ceremony.
“I can find one if that’s what you want,” he says with a dark glint in his eyes.
“No need.” I approach him and unbutton his shirt, exposing his chest. He doesn’t move an inch but looks down at me with sexy curiosity.
I toss the pen behind me. I don’t need it. I shove the papers into his chest and make him hold them there. Then I reach into my shirt and pull out a small knife. It's one I’ve used to carve fun designs into the skin of people who haven’t found their words yet. It’s the same one that carved ‘TRAITOR’ into McFadden’s chest less than twenty-four hours ago. I jam it through the paper into his flesh.
Aedon groans, but not in an unpleasant way. His dick is hardening, pushing against the crotch of his pants. Sick, just like me. I drive my name into his skin until blood soaks the certificate, torn where my signature was supposed to be. It flutters to the floor when I’m done.
“What the fuck?” Minos gasps. Hermes punches his arm, silencing him.
“I want a copy,” I growl.
Aedon surveys me with malice in his beautiful deep blue eyes. They are a raging storm ready to swallow me up into the depths. He reaches down and whisks the paper from the floor. Plucking the knife from between my fingers, he smashes the dripping paper over my breast, and drives the sharpened end into my flesh.
The place where it meets my skin burns, but not as bad as I do between my thighs. Yes, forever with this psycho is exactly what I want. Trap me, fuck me, kill me, and stuff me. I don’t want anything else. When he’s done, he pulls the shredded paper away, pretending to inspect it.
“I suppose that will suffice,” he says coolly. Blood drips down my breast in rivers, mixing with McFadden’s.
“I don’t want to be that guy, but should we leave?” Hermes interjects.
“Yes,” Aedon and I say in unison, not taking our eyes off of each other. They scamper to the elevator, not able to call it soon enough.
Aedon brushes his thumb over the bloody signature on my chest, and then he smears it on my mouth, pushing his thumb between my lips. I suck it off, and he grins. It’s evil and fucking incredible. The darkness inside of me craves him. I’m fucked up, and he likes it.
We’ve spent days in this place quietly. Indulging in the mundane parts of life. He’s been nice and kind, but this monster was always lying underneath. He was always going to be able to match my energy.
He grabs my blood-stained shirt and tears it off of me.
“What are you doing? Now my shirt is ruined,” I say dramatically.
“I’ll buy you a new one.” He hoists me onto the kitchen counter and yanks my shorts off of me.
There's a beautiful envelope with gold embellishments lying on the marble. It must be what they were all discussing before I came in. Aedon opens my knees, and the sound of lace tearing apart quickens my breath. I can feel his mouth hovering over me.
“You’re soaking wet.” His whisper tickles, and I try to clench my legs, but he’s there holding them open.
“What are you doing?” I lace my fingers in his hair, trying to drag him up.
“Worshiping.” He gives me a devious grin and dives in.
Aedon bites the inside of my thigh, and I squirm, but he holds me still. Then he runs his tongue all the way to my cunt and slurps up the wetness, kissing my clit. My hips buck, and he kisses me again, dipping his tongue between my folds. It feels fucking amazing, and my hold on his dark tousled hair tightens. My free hand smacks the counter behind me. I’m trying to keep myself up, but the blood makes it hard to get a grip.
He takes my clit into his mouth again, sucking until I feel pain and pleasure. I moan loudly, and he lets me go. He rises, biting on the yellowed bruises he left on my hip a few days ago until I whimper. Then he moves to the trails of blood dripping from his name carved into my breast, and he licks them up. His nails trail up my sides, lightly scratching me, and I shiver with excitement.
They scrape up my back and dig into my skin, making me whimper again. He’s experimenting. We’ve had rough sex before, but this is different. This is masochistic lust.
“You like it? The pain?” he asks softly, watching for my answer.
“Yes, Aedon.”
He doesn’t release me. Instead, he drags his nails down my back. I moan again, relishing the way it slices into my core. He carefully grips the bruises, and I arch my back, grinding into him. I finally feel alive.
“Hurt me.” I like his pain. I need it. I’m begging for it. Aedon is the only person I trust to bring me to the brink of death and drag me back.
He hesitates, warring between being a good man or a very terrible one.
“Hurt. Me. Aedon,” I enunciate on his lips. I dip my mouth to his chest where my name is carved over the tattoos and the scars. I run my tongue over the wound. His scent of amber and leather fills my nose while the piercing taste of iron fills my mouth.
He growls like a beast and slams me down onto the counter. My head cracks against the marble, and I giggle. He hauls himself up and climbs over me, knocking everything to the floor. Glass shatters, mail flutters, and something metallic thuds on the tile.
He gets ready to push himself into me, and I fight him until he catches my wrists with one hand, squeezing them together so hard they might snap. I wiggle trying to slip out of his grip. The more I fight it the angrier he becomes, and I love it. I want to see Aedon angry. I want him to force me to fuck him, and I want him to hurt me when he does it. I need the pain to block out all the betrayal and loss I’m keeping at bay.
“Stop fighting me,” he growls.
“Make me,” I challenged him.
I pull my wrist free, and I slap him across the face. He’s shocked, unlike the first time that I hit him. There's a small window of opportunity where I can run, and I take advantage of it. Sliding from underneath him I fall to my knees, trying to crawl away, but he’s fast. I have nothing to hold on to. He grabs my leg and drags me backward toward him. The floor squeals where it meets my dry flesh.
Aedon grabs my hair, and he yanks me up. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
My pulse is heavy and quick. I’m fucking thrilled, I’m soaking wet, and I’m also a little scared. I’ve never pushed him this far. I laugh, deranged and deep. It’s enough confirmation for him to continue. He finds my breast and pinches my nipple until it hurts so badly that I squeak and claw at his hands.
From how much I’m fighting him, blood begins to trickle back down from the wound where I carved my name. I kick him in the chest, and he shoves me against the glass wall, straddling me and using his knees to lock me in, trapping me. He grabs my wrists and holds them together behind my back. Blood smears across the glass making it slippery, but he reinforces his hold, reaching around and wrapping his free hand around my neck, constricting my breath.
“You’ve been a bad girl,” he snarls, releasing my wrists. I instinctively try to tear his hands from my neck.
Anyone could look up here and see us like this. It probably looks like he’s killing me. He grabs my ass with his free hand and smacks it. “That’s for causing a fucking scene.”
He slaps my ass again with more force. “That's for making me fucking wait three days.”
The third time is in the exact same spot as the first two. “And that is for hitting me in the fucking face.”
The sting roars on my skin. There will be ghosts of handprints, and I may not be able to sit later, but fuck, it’s so hot. He gives me back my breath.
“You fucking deserved it,” I snicker.
He shoves into me, not giving me a chance to adjust, and fucks me mercilessly. If this is what Aedon is like when he’s mildly angry, I can’t imagine when he’s pissed.
“You’re such a fucking confusing bitch. Do you know that?”
Hurt me, hurt me, hurt me.
“You fucking like it,” I growl.
“Look at me,” he demands.
His body looms over mine, slicked with sweat and blood. His hand grips my chin roughly, and he comes nose to nose with me.
“You’re mine, Josephine. You will never get away from me. If you try to run I will fucking find you. If you look sideways at another man, I will fucking kill him. Every act of defiance from you will come with a punishment. Am I clear?”
I glare at him, wanting to tear his face off and cover myself in his blood.
“Open your mouth.”
“Say please,” I taunt him. I’m still fighting him. It’s exhilarating. He slams into me, reaching a new depth.
“I said open your fucking mouth.”
He squeezes my cheeks painfully until I can’t help it. My mouth pops open. Aedon spits in it, followed by a malevolent grin. The void inside of me collides with my sanity. I can’t process it. I can only feel him inside of me. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this way. I feel fucking happy.
He clamps my mouth shut. “Swallow.”
I instinctively do as I’m told while pure white-hot rage, fueled by arousal, explodes under my skin.
“Fuck you,” I screech through gritted teeth. His hand finds my throat and squeezes so tight that my vision darkens at the edges.
“Gladly. Now shut the fuck up and take my cock.”
His nails scratch down my back as his dick seizes, spilling inside of me. He doesn’t stop. He keeps driving into me as my head beats into the glass. I can feel his cum inside of me, mixing with my juices. The sounds are grotesque and sloppy mixed with my own agonized moans.
“I’m going to make you take my cum until there's nothing left but me inside of you.” He struggles to laugh.
I can’t respond. His words have already got me teetering on the edge. It’s too late.
“I’m-fuck. I’m coming again,” he groans.
I’m already orgasming when he bites into my shoulder for leverage and comes again, seated deep inside of me. I’m exhausted, days of endless rage and adrenaline finally slamming into me. I slump against the glass, rolling onto my back and sliding to the floor, drowning in a rush of oxygen. I’m sticky and sweaty.
He pushes my knees apart and looks at me. I feel him slide his palm through our collective juices, and he shoves his fingers back into me. When he withdraws them, he pushes them into my mouth, sticking them down my throat until I gag on the cum and blood. I close my teeth around them and bite.
“I will fuck you raw, Josie, if you don’t fucking stop,” he growls.
I release him, and suck on his fingers until he pulls them away. We taste divine and disgusting. I survey our surroundings. There’s blood on the counter. It’s streaked on the floor where I tried to crawl away and smeared on the walls of glass that he fucked me against.
“People are going to think you murdered me,” I giggle.
“I did. I murdered your pusy, and I’ll do it again,” he grins, the boyish smile has returned. The darkness has receded in me, fed and calmed. Now I just feel peaceful.
“That was the best sex I’ve ever had. Hands down.” I lay my head to the side to look at him sitting against the couch across from me. He’s a beautiful bloody mess.
“Yeah?” He strokes the top of my foot absentmindedly. “You’re not the only one who is gripped by darkness. I told you I wouldn’t leave you alone.”
This man is my husband. Vicious and kind—something I wasn’t sure could go hand in hand. He wears it well. There’s the cool levelheaded man who holds me while I sleep, steals glances at me while I read, smirks at me when I talk shit, and waits on me while still asserting his dominance. Then there's the man who fucks me in blood, gets hard at the thought of violence, and would skin someone alive if they even thought of me. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that his threats are far from empty.
He grabs my ankles and yanks me toward him, placing my feet in his lap, and begins to massage them.
“What happened, love,” he prompts me.
“I killed a man tonight.” I stare at the ceiling. “Well, I tortured him for three days, then someone else showed him mercy.”
“So that’s where you were,” he says. “You’ve done it before. Why was this one different?”
“How do you know I’ve done it before?”
“I’m not blind, Jos. Just an asshole.”
“He was one of our own,” I sigh.
“That bothers you?” he asks with confusion. I’ve never told Aedon about where I’m from. It won’t change anything at this point. We’re fucking married so there’s no reason I shouldn’t tell him anymore.
“This is different. It’s personal.”
“How so?”
“People keep taking from me. Taking and taking and fucking taking. I wanted to take for once.”
“What did he take?”
“I told you I wasn’t from the capital. He betrayed our clan. He endangered my people, and now they’re going home to the Republic. They’re not coming back.”
“You’re a Rem,” he realizes.
“I am.”
“That explains it.” He chuckles. “I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. I suppose it’s because you don’t have an accent. You don’t look it either. The pub, Ody’s. The one that got angry when I asked around. Owned by a man named Stafford. That’s why he got mad isn’t it?”
“You met Staff?” If it had been under better circumstances, I would be willing to bet Stafford would have teased me about it.
“I forgot he handed you the note that night. I was distracted,” he grins. “He was disturbed when I asked about you. He knows people are trying to kill you, doesn’t he?” Aedon guesses.
“The night I met you is the night Kate was murdered. He moved us here.”
“Does he know you just married me? I can’t imagine he would have been happy about it.”
“Stafford isn’t my dad. He’s an…associate. But no, he doesn’t,” I admit. “I’m not sure he would care.”
“I doubt that. The Remnant hate me, and they hate my father even more,” he says.
“Why?” This is bad news. I never thought to ask enough about him. I’ve been stuck in my head. I hadn't thought about how my own unwillingness to cooperate was also reflected by him.
No matter what he says I would still marry him. It was always going to happen. Gaia could strike me down, and I would still be in this exact spot.
“You really haven’t figured it out?” I shake my head no quickly. “Hades is enemy number one. As his protege, I’m enemy number two.”
I start laughing. Of course. Of course, Aedon is next in line to take the throne. Of course, he’s Hades’ adopted son. Of course, my people hate him. Of course, of course, of course. “Well, fuck.”
“Indeed,” he agrees. “Hades will have a field day when he finds out my wife is Remnant.”
“Well, he hates my people. I can’t imagine he’ll be pleased.”
He looks at me quizzically. “Hades holds no ill will toward the Remnant. He wants unity.” I sit up straight with annoyance, my foot slipping from his grasp. He yanks it back, throwing me back to the floor. “Do you know why they hate Hades?” he gently asks.
“He burned us because of Magic, stole our land, and declared himself king,” I state plainly.
“No, he didn’t do any of that, but he can’t exactly walk in and explain over a cup of tea. Your people would never entertain that. Hades doesn’t want to fight them, but to understand them. Like you said, they don’t talk, and no one knows where the Republic is located. What were you in the museum to steal that day? Was it the box?”
“Excuse me?”
He smirks. “Don’t pretend you abide by the law, little devil. Not even thirty minutes ago you came here covered in another man’s blood.”
“I was bored and given a ticket. That’s all.” By Stafford who clearly had ulterior motives. Did he think I would take the box without someone asking me? He’s been so concerned with the Grimoire, which I do have, that I haven’t really given the box much thought in that regard.
“Why would someone want to kill you?”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember anything from before I drowned. The Lethe is the Pool of Forgetting. No one who touches it remembers. It’s cursed.”
He nods in thought. “You must possess something. That’s why someone wants to kill you.”
Yeah, the fucking Grimoire, and probably the knowledge to open Pandora’s Box.
“Are you sure you don’t remember anything?” He gives me a skeptical look. The same question everyone has always asked me.
My heart is beating hard but for all the wrong reasons. My missing memory. That night I set everything on fire. Kate and her crazy shit. All her stories and secrets. Killian constantly keeping an eye on me. Stafford moving us quietly and quickly. He employed me to keep me close. Sent me on wild goose chases after clues. He knew there was more every time he asked, and he still let me lie to his face. He knew about the scars because he’s a collector. He loves priceless things. Maybe he even knew everything Kate told me. There is no way Stafford will let me just stay here forever.
I’m a fucking idiot. Blinded by willful ignorance.
“I’m tired.” I yawn. “I should go.”
Aedon stares me down. “You have got to be fucking kidding me?!”
“To take a shower,” I finish with a devious grin.
“Hilarious.” He sweeps me off my feet and carries me to the bathroom.
He takes care of me, carefully scrubbing away the blood staining my skin. Then he washes my hair. It’s a sort of intimacy I’m not used to, but it feels good to be spoiled. He wraps me in a towel and dries my hair. Aedon inspects my knuckles and applies ointment onto them along with my fresh scar with his name, then he tucks me into the bed and pulls me into him.
He’s warm. I feel safe with him. I don’t question his loyalty or his intentions. I don’t hide the darkness. This place feels like heaven. Fuck my people. Fuck the dead that still haunt me. Fuck Stafford. All I’ve known is misery. Sam was right, take happiness when you can get it, and I think I might be really fucking happy. It will crumble eventually, and I’ll be impaled on my own sword. Until then, I’m going to indulge in my own gluttony.