A Worthy Opponent

by Katee Robert

  “I like the dress.”

  Her green eyes narrow. “I didn’t put it on for you.” She turns to look out the window, and I mourn the fact that the dress hides her ass and thighs. The woman is thick, and I fucking love it. She’s always been beautiful, but when I knew her before, it was a fragile kind of thing that seemed on the verge of shattering. Too skinny. Too afraid. Not taking care of herself, though it was no fault of her own.

  I’ve watched her find herself over the years. Find her style. Find her confidence. Find her Don’t Fuck With Me attitude. The fact she won’t give me the time of day only makes me respect her more. The woman she’s become doesn’t fuck around.

  I’m putting her in one hell of a position, but I’m not a good enough person to be sorry for it.

  She moves around the desk and perches on the edge of it. It puts her a few inches higher than me while I’m sitting, and I let her have the power position. Tink finally curses. “It’s in your best interest for Peter to disappear. Explain to me why I need to marry you in order to make it happen.”

  Something went down since I saw her last. I study her expression. Evidence of it is there in the tight line of her mouth and the tense way she holds herself. I missed it before because I was too busy ogling her. She’s scared.

  I go still. “He got to you.”

  “He made an appearance,” she agreed.

  Fuck. I hadn’t expected him to move so fast. She’s been out from under Hades’s thumb fewer than twelve hours. I thought we’d have more time to figure shit out, but I should have known better. “Agree to my bargain, Tink. I’ll take care of it.”

  “I still don’t get what you get out of it.”

  “I get you.” I get safety for my people … until the next supposed badass with a grudge comes calling. I wait for her to look at me and give her a slow grin. “I think we can both agree that you’re worth it.”

  She shakes her head. “You can’t honestly think I’m naive enough to believe that.”

  No, I really don’t. She’s always been too smart for everyone else’s good. She won’t believe me if I tell her the truth. Tink has already cast me as the villain, and I’m more than happy to play to type. Easier than trying to explain what being the leader of this territory has cost me, what it will continue to cost me. I’m selfish enough to want a reward for all the sacrifices I’ve made, and that reward looks a whole lot like the pretty blond glaring at me right now. I shrug. “Believe what you want. I laid out the terms. Agree or don’t.” I make a conscious effort to stay relaxed and keep my breathing even. As if everything isn’t hanging in the balance while she considers me.

  “Let me see if I have this straight. In return for his head on a platter, I have to marry you, fuck you, and submit to you.” She ticks each item off a finger, leaving her middle one up. “Sounds like bullshit from where I’m sitting.”

  “You submit in the bedroom. I’m not looking for a fucking slave.” That kind of submission, the sort that bleeds over into every part of life, is exhausting just thinking about. I have enough people to worry about without adding that to my list. Beyond that, I like Tink’s attitude and her determination to be a little fucking brat.

  “I don’t want to have sex with you.”

  I burst out laughing. She looks so cranky, I can’t help it. “Lie to yourself if you want to. Don’t lie to me. You most definitely want to have sex with me. It pisses you off, but it’s the truth.”

  She looks like she wants to chuck something at my head. “Am I going to have to repeat every single thing I say to get it through that suffocating ego of yours? I. Do. Not. Want. To. Have. Sex. With. You.”

  “Fine. Sex is off the table.”

  If anything, she looks more suspicious. “You agreed to that too easily.”

  I want Tink in my bed, yes, but I want her there willingly. Breaking this woman isn’t on my agenda. It never was. I stretch my arms over my head and fight a grin at the way she tries so hard not to check me out. “Here are the updated terms. I will not negotiate further. You marry me. I kill Peter. When you decide you’re tired of playing hard to get, you’ll crawl to me and beg for my cock. I’m all too happy to give it to you any way you like. Every way you like.”

  Her pretty pink lips form a perfect O of shock. “You’ve lost your mind.”

  “Wrong. I’m simply not in the habit of lying to myself the way you are.”

  She wipes the surprise from her expression and is back to glaring at me again. “What’s the point of forcing me to marry you if it’s a total sham of a marriage?”

  I lift my brows. “Not all marriages have sex, Tink. That’s a very narrow worldview you have.”

  “That’s not what I mean and you know it. Stop baiting me.”

  “Stop making it so easy.”

  She makes a sound like a pissed off teakettle. “If you force the matrimony issue, and then turn around and fuck your way through the territory, it’s going to make me look like a fool.”

  She’s already decided to marry me. I have to work to keep the smugness out of my tone. Tink’s exactly where I want her, and as soon as she signs the papers and accepts the ring, she’ll be fighting herself as well as me to stay out of my bed. I idly twist the ring on my left thumb. “I’ll honor my vows unless you tell me not to.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “So suspicious.” I laugh again, mostly to enjoy the twitch by her right eye that comes in response. “You’ve worked in the Underworld for five years. Even if you avoided me, you were too good an employee for Hades not to notice what I like.” I know for a fact Hades has files on every single player in Carver City, including their kinks and whatever dirty secrets they let slip. Tink worked under Meg, which means she’d have access to those files, would be encouraged to keep her eyes open every time she’s on the playroom floor.

  “You like to share.” She practically spits the words at me, and a flush spreads across her chest and up her neck. Fury or desire? Only time will tell.

  I push slowly to my feet, giving her plenty of time to back up. She won’t, but it’s important to draw this line in the sand. “You will sleep in my bed. You’ll be my wife in truth. I won’t push the sex, but everything else holds.”

  “How long?”

  I drag my fingers slowly through her long hair, enjoying how silky it feels. She’s done something to the color to make the blond pop even more. I like it. “Until we decide we’re done.”

  “That’s a horrible bargain.”

  It’s only horrible if she truly hates me as much as she says. I don’t give a damn. The end result is the only thing that matters. I’ve bided my time. I’ve denied myself again and again, putting my shit on the back burner so I could keep the territory stabilized. It worked, but it won’t work much longer. If Peter takes me out, a shit ton of people will suffer in the aftermath. I can’t let that happen.

  I won’t let that happen.

  “Take it or leave it. The offer expires the second you walk out that door.”

  She slaps my hand away, and I let her. Tink might know what I like, but I’ve been watching her, too. I’ve seen her get off more times than I can count, always by other’s hands, mouths, cocks. She enjoys putting on a show as much as I do. More, even. She won’t thank me for noticing, but all’s fair in love and war, and if we don’t win this fight, we won’t survive. Love doesn’t even enter into the equation.

  Finally, she nods. “I don’t have a choice.”

  “There’s always a choice. Always.”

  “Not for me. Not this time.” She presses her hand against my chest, and I allow her to push me back a step and then two. “How soon can you get a priest here?”

  “An hour.”

  “Do it.”

  I don’t give her a chance to change her mind. If I were a better man, I’d check in with her or sit her down and reassure her that she’s making the right choice. I don’t do any of it. I leave her sitting on Nigel’s desk and send for a priest.

 
It doesn’t take him long to show up. He’s a short Black man who’s worked in the church down the street for longer than I’ve been alive. His receding hairline has left the top of his head completely bald, and his curls have long since gone to gray. For all that, I wouldn’t want to cross him. Father Elijah hasn’t lived this long because he lets people fuck with him. Even Peter knew to leave the church and its parishioners alone. At least right up until the end when Father Elijah challenged him one too many times over his treatment of Tink.

  Peter attacking the priest is what finally caused Tink to flee the territory. I’m sure of it. And her leaving paved the way for me to challenge Peter directly. It feels strangely like closing a circle to have Father Elijah be the one to marry us.

  He gives me a long look. “Marriage is meant to be a holy union.”

  “Don’t go trying to convert me now.” I grin, my body language relaxed and open. Most people only see the charm and ignore the danger beneath. Father Elijah isn’t most people, but threatening him will backfire. I need him to do this, to make my marriage with Tink official. Legally, yes, but more importantly, I need it official in the eyes of the territory. I open the door for him. “You know I’m a heathen.”

  “We’re all God’s children.” He snorts. “Even the assholes.”

  “Especially the assholes. Pretty sure that was the sermon a few Sundays ago.”

  “You’d know if you ever darkened our doorstep.” He walks into the office, and I can’t see his face, but his voice lights up. “Tatiana.”

  Tink hops off the desk and pulls at the fabric of her dress to straighten it. “Father Elijah. I didn’t—I didn’t know you’d be here.” She looks a little lost for the first time since she showed up here, her gaze flitting over his face as if tracing the injuries Peter had left there. They might be healed, but look at her expression says that their memory lives on with Tink.

  The priest must see it too, because he moves first, holding out his hands. “Come here, child. Let me look at you.” He waits patiently for her to take his hands and tugs her forward a step. “You look good.” For any other man, those words would be lewd and crass. Hell, they were when I said them. Father Elijah actually means them exactly how they sound. “I’m so proud of you.”

  Her bottom lip quivers the tiniest bit before she locks it all down. “I’ve been working at a kink club for five years, Father. I practically have Sinners ‘R Us tattooed on my forehead.”

  He gives an easy smile. “You got out. You’ve made something of yourself and you’re doing good for those who don’t have your resources.”

  A faint blush colors her cheeks and she won’t quite meet his gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Of course, child. We never have to speak of those monthly donations.”

  I manage to school my expression before they both look at me. I had no idea Tink was sending money to the church. There’s no reason I should know that, but, fuck, it doesn’t even surprise me now that I think of it. It’s exactly something she’d do.

  “Shall we?” I motion Nigel and Colin into the room and shut the door. Despite there being three years between them, they could almost pass as identical twins. The only difference is that Colin wears a full beard and has a penchant for graphic T-shirts from 80s rock bands. Today’s is AC/DC.

  Tink narrows her eyes as she looks at the papers I lay on the desk. “You already got us a marriage license. Somehow. Despite the fact that I’m supposed to be present for that.”

  “Just greasing the wheels.” I hand her a pen. “Sign here.”

  “You’re such a bastard.” She doesn’t hesitate to sign, though, and then practically stabs me with the pen when she thrusts it back at me. I follow suit.

  Father Elijah shakes his head. “I didn’t want this for either of you.”

  I can appreciate his sentiment—I didn’t want this shit for me, either—but marrying Tink doesn’t even rate on the list of horrible things I’ve had to do over the years. It’s necessary, yes, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want it. Didn’t want her.

  Father Elijah arranges us before him. I start to tell him we don’t need the full show, but he shuts me up with a harsh look. I stare down at Tink as he goes through the whole song and dance of our wedding vows. Even in her heels, she barely comes up to my shoulder. It’s so easy to forget how short she is because her personality expands her presence. It’s not doing that right now. She looks too pale and a little wide around the eyes as she says, “I do.”

  I repeat it when it’s my turn, and it feels a whole lot like promising shit I have no ability to give. She knows that, though. She’s walking into this fully aware of cost, the same as me. If I’m the one who forced her to this point, I’m not sorry I did it.

  Father Elijah sighs. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

  Chapter 5

  Tink

  As tempting as it is to knee Hook in the balls, I am overly aware of Father Elijah watching us. He’s a good man and one of the few things I found bearable during my time with Peter—at least until that was taken from me, too.

  In the end, he was the straw that broke the camel’s back. After Peter forbid me from attending church, Father Elijah tried to intervene. In the aftermath of that, it felt like I woke from a long sleep. I’d known I wasn’t getting out of my relationship with Peter alive, even if I couldn’t admit it to myself at the time. But realizing that I’d take down innocents, too? That I couldn’t stand for.

  So I ran. Took the route and resources I’d been too terrified to contemplate before, and fled to Hades, where I begged him to save me. He could have demanded anything and I would have accepted. By comparison, five years is a bargain.

  Now I’m making a different kind of bargain, though it’s just as driven by fear as the last.

  I lift my face and let Hook press a surprisingly sweet kiss to my lips. I don’t know what I expected, but this wasn’t it. I have to fight not to step forward, not to close the distance between us, not to nip his bottom lip so he’ll really kiss me.

  He lifts his head and grins. “Let’s do this.” Then he takes my hand and tows me toward the door.

  Father Elijah gives a rough laugh. “Don’t be a stranger, Tatiana.”

  It takes two tries to form words. “I won’t.” Every time someone calls me by the name I intentionally left behind, it feels like they’re forcibly shoving me back into a skin that’s too small. I’m not that girl anymore. I don’t want to ever be her again.

  And yet here I am, right back where I started. Hook might not have set up his headquarters in the same house Peter dominated, but so much of it is the same. Various people, all obviously armed, moving about with purpose in their steps and violence in their eyes. One doesn’t run an entire territory through charm alone. Threats must be delivered and examples must be made. And Hook does it all. He wouldn’t be able to hold his power without getting his hands dirty.

  Rationally, I know he’s nowhere near as evil as Peter is. I’m not even sure he’s evil at all. But he chose to take over this territory, and that decision more than speaks for itself.

  Hook doesn’t quite drag me through the halls, but I have to step fast to keep up with his longer strides. I try to memorize the building’s layout, but though it seems like a straightforward business from the outside, the inside has been completely gutted and renovated into something else entirely. We move through what feel like smaller apartments, hallways, and then a living room, and then another hallway. It’s really brilliant as a way of forcing an invading enemy into pinch point after pinch point, but it’s discombobulating. I’m lost before we make it halfway through the main floor, and that irritates the hell out of me.

  He hauls me to an elevator and ushers me inside. The second we’re behind closed doors, I yank my arm free. “Manhandling is not sexy.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  I ignore the innuendo in his low voice. I may have intentionally blocked out his presence
in the Underworld whenever I could, but there was no escaping the end-of-shift reports with my fellow employees. We were information gatherers, and everything we learned went into the impressive files Meg keeps on anyone of interest in Carver City.

  I know more about what gets Hook off than I have any right to. I also know that he’s been paying attention to me this entire time. He knows my kinks. He’s seen them on display. I can’t think about that too hard or I won’t be able to fight the blush buzzing beneath my skin. “Not like this,” I manage.

  “Okay,” he agrees easily.

  I give him a sharp look, trying to sense the shape of the trap he’s letting me walk right into. Hook might fake being agreeable, but he is faking it. I don’t know why Hook won’t move on Peter without this sham of a marriage, but I can’t afford to be picky right now. Not when I can still feel that bastard’s fingers digging into my wrist. It will bruise, and that pisses me the fuck off. These days, the only bruises on my body are the ones I want there. Not from him. Never again from him.

  The doors slide open, and Hook ambles out into a massive bedroom. I whistle before I can stop myself. The ceiling arches high above us, and it’s made entirely of glass. I bet at night, the stars look close enough to touch. It’s a struggle to drag my gaze back down to earth and the room itself. It’s set up in a studio style with a surprisingly top-of-the-line kitchen taking up space on the left and a series of hardwood wardrobes on the right, half of which look like they’re in the process of vomiting clothing onto the floor. Seeing that chaos makes my blood pressure rise to dangerous levels, so I turn to the wall that appears to be made of vaguely translucent tile. The door next to it confirms it as the bathroom, and when I walk over to investigate, I roll my eyes. The entire wall is the shower, which means anyone standing there will be outlined almost perfectly for viewing from the rest of the room. Great.

  Then there’s nowhere else to look but at the bed. It’s large enough that only the term orgy-sized would fit. Considering the scenes I’ve witnessed Hook participate in, that doesn’t surprise me in the least.