by Elena Monroe
After my Hot as Hades shower, I patted my body dry and planted myself in front of the mirror above the sink, staring.
Arianna's makeup on the counter was mainly black or all dark colors void of any brightness—all muted, exactly how she liked it.
My features were all precious, except my full lips. The green in my eyes felt like a warning sign, bringing you close enough to read the sign, but clear enough to make you run. My body was petite, and my skin was almost as white as paper.
Maybe it was as fragile as paper too.
I was innocent on the outside and as black as Arianna’s makeup inside.
Acceptance is a long, hard road—one that I was on, yet the progress was slow.
Too slow.
It was time to make the outside match my insides.
The palette of dark colors begged me to swipe a finger against the pigment as I painted the charcoal on my fingertip onto my eyelid.
War paint.
Armor.
Coping.
Progress.
I adjusted my gaze and stood up straight, looking into my reflection with the black smokey eyes and the blood red lipstick I smudged onto my lips. I never normally wore makeup, and it felt like some kind of intricate art class.
My reflection mocked me with its false confidence that I wanted to be real.
I walked over to my closet at all the pastels and florals, still me, just the side lying dormant. I tugged a shirt with flowers all over it and buttons down the front that normally hit at my thighs when the idea came to me like magic.
Snagging the scissors inside the drawer of my nightstand, I pulled the material tight and zipped them across, creating a crop top.
Floral and dangerous.
Fishnets under my jeans, tight and new, with cuts showcasing the fishnets sticking out above the seams.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I saw my sides mixing, and finally, I felt the kind of calm I was desperate for: acceptance.
Molding my fingers into a gun and pointing it at my reflection, I winked. I see you, and I accept the bad bitch.
??
Dorian’s hands didn’t leave my waist or hips as soon as he parked his car in the garage. He wasn’t convincing me—it was himself—that I was his.
With his arms around me, he pulled me back to him as soon as we stepped in the elevator. My back was against his chest and his voice caressing my ear: “All this...” He snapped my fishnets against my skin before continuing. “You wanna be bad for me… or him?”
All the broody makeup was doing a lot to make me feel stronger than I truly felt, and I smirked without answering.
Toying with someone with anger management issues is a really bad idea, so why did the bad parts of me want him to give me a reason to drive my knee into his crotch?
His strong hand manipulated my chin, forcing me to look at him the best I could from in front of him.
“Why do you always speak in tongues, baby?” He muttered the question before pushing his lips to mine in a less than graceful way.
I felt his warm, wet, tongue dive into my mouth and tangle with mine, as I tried to turn to face him more. His hands on my hips stopped me from making any movements.
He was forcing me to chase his mouth and feed the fire in the pit of my stomach.
“Dorian,” I whispered into his mouth.
Dorian replied without words, letting his hand smooth down the patch of skin my crop top left on display, until his fingers snaked under the fishnets.
Leaning back into him his fingers tiptoed down my skin until he found my sensitive bundle of nerves that currently ached.
“Dorian, please,” I begged him, letting my head lean back into his shoulder, preparing for my body to jolt awake with his touch.
“The only thing that's gonna save your soul... is me.” His voice was laced with determination and anger, all in one. His hot breath tickled my shoulder, before I felt his fingertips rub between my legs.
The glow above the doors illuminating each new floor dinged, sending the thrill of this up my spine, as Dorian pinched and teased my clit in my panties.
Ding.
His lips nipped my neck while his palm pressed against my chest keeping me in his grip.
Ding.
Finally, I felt his fingers plunge between my legs, while his palm struck my sensitivity with each thrust.
Ding.
My whimpers for more of him, the more satisfying parts, went unheard, as he brought me close to orgasming all over his hand.
Ding.
“If you get cum in my dad’s elevator, you’re cleaning it up.”
My eyes snapped open in a panic to see the doors open and Nyx standing there, shirtless and pissed off (and sporting a new buzz cut that was growing out).
His pants were riding so low on his hips I could tell he wasn't wearing underwear. I had to try my best to not move against Dorian’s fingers just looking at Nyx. He was the literal definition of sex, and Dorian would make sure it was my death.
I stood still, all of us did.
Nyx was daring Dorian to make a move. Poor Dorian actually did when he removed his hand from my pants and sucked on the ends of his fingertips seductively. It didn't help me dry up or burn out; the thrill was still trapped in my spine.
Nyx pulled out a blunt, and his lips pinched it into place while he lit it. “You're in my house, Dorian. Watch your step.” He pushed off the wall across from the small elevator and left us both feeling caught.
I straightened my outfit and decided I needed a bathroom, but Dorian's grip on my arm was so tight I didn't even try to squirm.
He always knew when to strike, when I felt most vulnerable and wasn't prepared to strike back. He caught me in another episode of panic, armor of makeup be damned.
Dorian’s voice was husky and sharpened with an edge, ready to cut, when his lips pushed into my ear, “You leave… when I say you can. You're done, when I let you be done, Luna.”
That’s the thing about flight or fight: You don’t get to decide which one comes out to play. I was begging my fight to stand up to him, live up to the fake confidence I soaked myself in, but I was at the mercy of flight.
Everything in me told me to run—run fast and far. I just needed out of his grip first, and that was tightening by the second.
“Dorian, you’re hurting me.” My voice broke, releasing an ocean of tears in my eyes, blurring my vision at the worst time.
“What did I just say, Luna? You’re mine and only mine. Don’t make me more mad.”
His cruel tongue lashed my confidence to shreds and gave me the middle finger all at the same time. He was claiming me as his when I still felt wedged between two men. I didn’t feel forced to pick one, when they both fed different parts of my soul. Even with the distance between us, Nyx was still all around me, reminding me of who I truly was.
Dorian’s hand loosened up, and I could feel my blood draining back to my fingers, and the numbness subsiding quickly.
Taking big steps, I left the elevator and tugged my sleeve down, trying to cover the super pink mark that he left on me. It was no real help that I chose to wear a crop top with short sleeves.
The irony didn’t escape me. I was even putting my bad on display, so why not the real Dorian?
Bolton warned me last night that people care, will care… but the one I should worry about is Nyx. He’ll care enough to kill, and then he’ll probably do something really fucked up with the body.
Nyx
C atching Luna with Dorian’s hands in her cookie jar was easily going to be my least favorite part of the night.
Living with my dear old dad wasn’t the worst gig. There was plenty of space. Caellum took him up on his offer, and my dad wasn’t Zeus. He didn’t dictate my every move or make outlandish demands that I was expected to meet.
My dad, who apparently goes by H now, was the gangster no one wanted in their lives.
He had bodyguards, guns, and women, all rotating around the clock without s
o much as lifting a finger.
Every time he was in a room, it was like influence and power took over. He wouldn't do a damn thing, paying zero mind to anything, and no one seemed to tell him anything he didn’t want to hear.
I was debating being that glimmer of truth just as payback for not trying harder to find me, while he settled into being the world’s modern day Devil.
Hades could have won against Zeus, but he was lazy—lazy in all his roles, falling just short of great and settling for being called bad instead.
It was his idea to invite people over, to reintroduce himself, and to watch us squirm, realizing our gods weren’t dead, but we couldn’t go home either.
He didn’t talk about what happened or specifics, like who was left alive. He danced around the truth, because he knew how important it was to hold all the information, how valuable you would become.
Caellum had been living in the library that no one used, looking for clues and answers, just as around the clock as my dad’s vices.
Luna, being who she is, was the first to arrive with her boyfriend.
I kept mumbling to myself to behave, even though I was born into this world meant to do the opposite.
My dad bounced off the velvet couch with his arms open wide and a cheeky grin on his face as he closed the gap between him and Luna. Pulling her into his chest, he closed his arms around her, “Little Lamb...”
Wait, did he just use my pet name for my plaything?
“Don't give your old man that look. I've been calling her ‘Little Lamb’ since she was only an ankle biter. A curious one, this one, wandering in the Underworld out of curiosity. How do you think you met?”
Luna snuggled into him, like he was an old comfortable blanket, and she radiated something I hadn't seen awhile, not since our night together: peace.
He noticed Dorian standing behind her when I scowled at his use of words like “Underworld” in front of the mortal.
“Don't listen to me… I’m just an old bloke. I'm H, Nyx’s dad, and you are?” Still holding Luna to his side, he reached out a hand towards Dorian.
Caellum was in suspenders, jeans, army boots undone, and no shirt when he walked through the living room. “Shit, that's tonight?”
He turned the same way he came to leave as quickly as he came, thankfully disrupting Dorian from speaking. No one wanted to hear his contributions to the conversation.
H poured alcohol sloppily over four cups and dipped his finger into the dish of Oracle sitting on the bar. There was enough to get half of mankind high and leave them confused as to what happened the next day.
Oracle was the drug of choice for anyone godly.
Demigods, creatures, soldiers before battle… as long as there was a way to ingest it, you could feel the impact of knowing the world’s secrets.
That's what Oracle does: opens your mind to future possibilities, warnings, and things you don't see with your eyes only half open.
I was already enough of... me. I didn’t need to be even more of myself. It took a strong person to ignore Oracle’s whispers, enticing and begging you.
H dipped a pinky and sucked it off his finger every morning.
“Nyx is a terrible host. The kitchen is back there and stocked with food. I'll retire to my room upstairs. I don't want to cramp his style.” He kissed my head like I was still an ankle bitter begging for his attention.
It wasn't embarrassing as much as I didn't want to parade my not dead dad in front of Luna, who desperately looked like she needed her mom.
Her milky white skin was coated in black around her eyes, and her lips were smeared in red that I could connect back to Dorian. Her fishnets were on display above her jeans, and the holes in the knees were begging someone to convince her out of the jeans.
Clearly a job for a real man, if Dorian wasn't getting the job done.
She was trying to look as bad as she felt, when really it just looked like a cluster fuck of confusion.
Throwing myself onto the couch, I ignored Dorian, and by proxy, I had to now ignore Luna, since my dad had run off to his room.
I didn't have to look to know Bolton’s voice say, “Mate?” He was mimicking my Australian accent, poorly, I might add.
I held out my hand for our casual greeting, and he sunk down into the couch next to me, while the girls giggled together. Dorian was the only one left out.
Bolton gave me this look, like something needed to be said, but privately, which forced me out of my seat. I tilted my head for him to follow me. He followed behind me down the dimly lit hallway to the big library doors, and when I yanked one open, we both saw Caellum behind the desk.
“Weren't you getting ready?” I popped an eyebrow, staring at Caellum in the same state as a few minutes ago.
He pointed to a shirt hanging on the light fixture. “I grabbed a shirt. See?”
A smirk consumed my face, as I turned to Bolton and his dramatics. Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I prepared for the worst. If Bolton needed to say something in private, it was never a good thing.
“I don't like Dorian. What do we know?”
Caellum dropped the Henry Jon journal in his hands to slow clap mockingly. “Welcome to the club... finally.”
With my eyelids at half-mast, I scrutinized him for a reason. Bolton hated everyone, but there was normally a reason, even if it was stupid.
“Why now? What changed?”
Bolton’s eyelashes twitched. The downfall of a demigod, they didn’t have 100% control like we did. “Nothing. Just rubbing me wrong.”
I knew he was lying, but I didn't push for answers. Bolton couldn't be pushed in any direction.
Truth or a lie.
He was firmly in the middle, wearing a goddamn crown.
We walked out of the library that had been completely overtaken by Caellum’s clues, theories, stacks of books, and maps trying to find home again.
The two kings could talk about Luna’s choice in men. I had to attend a party, as the anti-social decoration in the room.
Kate was sitting on the kitchen island, and I snaked around her almost bare legs in tiny cut off shorts. “Upgraded, huh? This place is amazing.”
Kate jumped down off the counter, but made no strides closer to her boyfriend. I couldn’t blame her; he was soft.
Austin, clad in a pink and orange Hawaiian shirt with Ray Bans still perched on his nose, pushed his fist into mine.
Everyone worth inviting was here. I didn’t care for the rest of the circle, and I wasn’t shy about it.
I yanked out the cold pizza from the fridge, squirting mustard on top like that was normal, and I chomped on the end of it.
Kate squealed in horror. “That is disgusting, Nyx.”
All I had to do was take one step, and I would be firmly against Kate’s particularly round ass, which was teasing us all in her short shorts.
My anger for Dorian was boiling under the surface and pushing me to piss everyone off if I couldn’t fuck him up.
With my hands on either side of her, acting like a cage, I whispered into her ear, “Not as disgusting as what you did, Cupid.”
Austin wasn’t a doormat, but he wasn’t going to fight me either. Kate wore the pants in their relationship, and what she said or wanted was basically the new law.
I felt my crotch push into the small of her back, and she stilled.
I didn’t want Kate.
I wanted to piss people off.
I wanted relief that Luna wasn’t providing.
I wanted a cure to loving Luna, but even my dick grinding against Kate wasn’t helping.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Your secret is safe with me.”
Austin, the pansy he is, coughed, trying to get my attention, like it would stop my hips from pushing into her ass.
Making eye contact with him, I smirked, letting him know he should grow a sac.
Kate changed the topic effortlessly and then dragged Austin by the shirt, making sure he followed her to the living room, where I c
ould hear everyone else.
Tossing the pizza crust in the trash, I headed in the same direction. I was avoiding Luna and Dorian for as long as possible, until this moment.
No avoiding it now.
My living room looked and felt like Scooby-fucking-Doo, with all of us gathered around, like we were about to solve a mystery.
There was no mystery, only secrets and lies, and there was no game for that.
Throwing myself at the end of the couch, I tried my best to ignore everyone, while still being friendly enough to get through this.
Dorian spoke up: “So, Nyx, what does your dad do? Is your mom around?”
He wasn’t smooth. I knew hearing the word “Underworld” was going to send his brain into overdrive, or at least break his character.
I looked in his direction with Luna on his lap—her new favorite seat. This time she wasn’t playing housewife or good girl; no, this time, her eyes looked scared and sad.
It woke something up in my somber tone.
Why was she sad? Why wasn’t he making whatever the fuck was wrong in her world better?
“Interested in my dad? Fancy a date with him?” I seethed casually, even though my blood was boiling.
Bolton handed me a glass full of clear liquor, and I knew this kind of fuel only added to my fire. It made me combustible, and I couldn’t be responsible for what was going to happen after that.
“Luna doesn’t talk about home or her parents. Just curious…” His voice was less casual.
“Because her parents are dead, genius.”
Luna’s eyes finally met mine after staring long enough. “Nyx, just don't start.” Her soft voice was harsh and to the point.
“Taking a walk on the wild side?” I shot back, eyeing her dumb, very unher outfit that she was sporting.
Kate chimed in with an apologetic look on her face, which normally came before a truth bomb, not an apology. “Seriously… You look filled with angst, but in the Hot Topic way, not the broody way…”
Luna shot up from Dorian’s lap. “Maybe I’m tired of being who you all expect me to be. Maybe I’m not all kittens, rainbows, and happy fucking vibes. I…” Swallowing hard, she realized Dorian was paying even more attention. “Things happened, and I’m never going to be that Luna again. Maybe that’s why it’s been so hard accepting any dark parts of myself, because none of you will either!”
