by Cate Masters
“I’m glad to hear it,” she said on a breath.
“You’ve been practicing.” He couldn’t help noticing her muscles were more toned, her movements more supple. Graceful and fluid.
“Yes. I worked very hard so I would be chosen as one of the three who danced tonight.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to please you.”
More likely, she wanted to show off for Lily. “You did. Now you must please me more.” He stepped back.
She bent to the floor, and spread a fur love rug atop the table. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
So she’d expected this? How devious. It irritated him, and excited him. He shoved her shoulders down. “According to the dance, your head should not rise above my belt.”
“Then how can I do this?” She unfastened his belt and freed his erection.
Heat rippled through him. “Ah, yes. You have my permission to continue.”
Her mouth closed around him, and a shudder wracked his resolve to stand still, let her work her magic, and not toss her onto her back right now. Each lick teased his desire to greater intensity, and he fought the building urge for release. When he finally came, his knees buckled as spasms of bliss racked his body. She steadied his hips and massaged his balls, his base.
“Amazing.” If she intended to suck him dry, she had another thing coming. Literally.
He lifted her onto the love rug. The perfect height for fucking.
She wrapped her legs around his, eased onto her back, and slid two fingers inside herself. Sucking air between her teeth, she moved in a slow rhythm, a dance of seduction.
It instantly restored his hard-on. He guided the tip to her fingers. Without breaking the rhythm, she reached her other hand to fondle the underside of his cock, each vein screaming to be next. Sweat beaded on his forehead from the effort of holding back as she worked herself into a writhing frenzy. Bursts of breath accompanied her body’s shudders.
“Enough teasing.” He rammed her, fingers and all. He grabbed her hips to anchor her, expecting her muscles to slacken, but she bucked against him equally hard. Too good to end so fast. “Slow down.”
With a visible shiver, she complied, holding his gaze, her face a mask of unquenchable lust. And love.
Flip her and fuck her. He should. Each stroke added to his need for her, and her alone. A dangerous position. No. I like this position. Liked seeing her breasts roll with each movement. Liked seeing the wanton desire in her eyes, the pleading for relief. He gauged his speed based on whether he wanted to grant her pleas or make her beg longer. The slow rhythm mesmerized him, and time and place fell away. All that existed was their bodies, joined as one, yin pounding yang to unending delight.
A tiny niggling from the recesses of his consciousness drove him faster. They’re waiting. His absence would rank as insult. Hades expected him. The thought robbed him of the pleasure of the climax, made his fingers dig into her flesh unmercifully. Much as he hated to, he withdrew.
She clung to him tighter. “Don’t go.”
He placed his palms atop the table and loomed over her. “What?” He resisted the urge to lick the drip of sweat from between her breasts.
“Stay with me. I will do whatever you want.”
He straightened. “I’ll send for you later.”
Her legs captured him like a vise. “No, please. Don’t go back to her.”
“Pardon?” Unthinkable that she suggest such a thing.
“Zeveriah, I… I love you.”
He broke her grasp, wiped himself clean with her silks, and refastened his slacks. “Never, ever, dare say that again.”
Her sobs followed him down the corridor, and it didn’t register until he entered the hall that his entire body trembled.
***
Where in Hell is Zeveriah? Scanning the hall, Hades swilled his brandy. The archduke broke from the table like a racehorse at the bell. Hades knew what bell, or whose. The cling of zills had a way of stirring a man’s lust, each ting-ting-ting accompanying a sway of hips or bend of knee, promising thrills.
Yes, for scant minutes, though Zeveriah apparently had been spurred to greater lengths by the dancing nymph. Too much the image of her mother, Minthe, His instincts had proven dead on to send her to another part of the Underworld to work as a servant girl, and keep her out of Persephone’s sight. He hadn’t foreseen her masters releasing her, likely because of the wife’s jealousy.
Veronica had stirred him, too, but Hades wouldn’t jeopardize his kingdom again. He’d loved Minthe, although nothing like his love for Persephone. His wife fulfilled his every desire, and fulfilled her role as his wife with nothing short of breathless admiration.
The archduke hadn’t yet made the distinction between duty and love, love and lust. Or had he?
A low growl escaped. The ass. If Zeveriah chose Veronica over Lily, he’d forfeit more than he realized. The CFO position. Becoming a member of the inner family circle. The respect and loyalty of more than the residents of Section Six, spreading to all areas of Hell.
Persephone caressed his chest. “Any sign of him?”
Hades was about to say no when Zeveriah entered, disheveled and sweaty. “Oh, no.”
Persephone waved a server over. “Bring the archduke a brandy and send him out to clean up. Tell him not to return until he’s presentable.”
Hades drew her close and kissed her. “You’re the perfect wife.”
“You’re just now realizing it?”
“No, I’ve known a long time.”
“And risked our marriage anyway,” she murmured, and broke free.
“Darling.” He masked his warning in pleasantness. “Let’s not spoil the party.”
“Who allowed that slut to dance tonight?” she hissed.
“I will find out, and it won’t happen again, I assure you.”
“And what of her affair with the archduke?”
His wife was full of surprises. Some of them unpleasant. “How did you know?”
“I found them together.”
He snapped his focus fully to her. “When?”
“The day I learned Lily was coming home. She was in his chambers, and he was in hers, if you know what I mean.”
He resisted the urge to pound his fist in the wall. “That fool. He disregarded my warning.”
“You knew?”
“Why?”
“Did you know who she is?” Harshness edged Persephone’s tone, a challenge and a warning.
To deny that he knew Veronica was Minthe’s daughter could bring extreme trouble. He gulped his brandy. “I warned him against her.” And the timing was particularly awful. Zev could have waited until after the wedding, at least. He wasn’t about to suggest that to his wife.
“Others have noticed the archduke’s disappearance. Why don’t you dismiss everyone except a select, smaller group, and have them meet us in the study?”
“Splendid idea.” It would give Zeveriah a chance to clean up his act. Hades would make no excuse for him.
***
“May I see your finger cymbals?” Lily asked a dancer.
“Of course.” The woman twisted the tiny instruments from her thumbs and middle fingers. “Always wear zills on these fingers.” She attached them to Lily’s.
Lily couldn’t resist clanging them. “Such a beautiful sound. They added so much to your dance.”
The dancer bowed. “It’s a skill that requires much practice.”
“Really? I’d love to learn.”
“I’d be honored to teach you.”
“Where can I find a set of zills?”
“Take these.”
“No, I couldn’t.”
Persephone appeared at her side. “I’ll get you several sets. Thank you, Thildra.”
Thildra curtsied and hurried off.
“It’s best not to take gifts from those you don’t know, dear. You never know when it might contain a spell.”
“Good point.” She had to keep reminding herself th
is wasn’t really home.
Hades snapped his fingers, and everyone faced him. “Thank you all for coming. Good night.”
It’s over already? “Have I upset Hades?”
“Not at all. Why do you ask?”
“He looks angry. I wanted to make a better impression this time, but I’m not familiar with how things work in the Underworld.”
Persephone’s smile appeared genuine. “Hades is a ruler with great responsibilities. Others may have angered him, but not you.”
“Good. I really appreciate all you’ve done for me, both of you. I hope I can visit again.”
“Surely you’re not leaving yet.” It was less a question than a statement. Persephone continued, “Hades and I hope you’ll join us for a smaller gathering in the study.”
“Now?”
“Yes. It’s this way.”
“All right.” Despite a very full evening, Lily wasn’t at all sleepy. She strolled with Persephone to an antechamber, much more like a room than the dining hall. This had walls, lined with shelves of books. Very old books, too, they appeared, many with hand-lettered titles on their leather bindings.
A more intimate setting, too. The huge crowd had overwhelmed Lily, too many new faces to remember their names. A few people trickled in, grabbed drinks from servers’ trays and settled onto the leather sofas.
Zeveriah shuffled in last, and kept to the outer perimeter. He nursed the glass of brandy he held, the soft glow of its amber contents the only warmth he displayed.
Hades seemed to bristle. “Zeveriah.”
The archduke snapped his head up. At Hades’ wave, he approached with slow steps.
“Zeveriah, why don’t you take Lily for a stroll in the garden?”
“The garden?” Did they have such loveliness in the Underworld? Or perhaps their gardens consisted of less pleasant things. Flowers whose beauty drew in unsuspecting prey. Luckily, Bodie had warned her.
Zeveriah flashed a tight smile. “If you would do me the honor.”
Lily wasn’t sure she wanted to be alone with him so soon. Persephone beamed encouragement, but her grandmother wouldn’t be the one who had to fend him off. “Would you care to join us?”
“You two go on,” Hades said. “Enjoy yourselves.”
Was that a command? Probably he meant for her not to feel guilty leaving the party again, and she knew too well what Hades hoped: that Zeveriah would sweep her off her feet, and she’d fall into his bed and never want to leave.
Not gonna happen. Lily didn’t want to stir up trouble, however. In her best imitation of a princess, Lily exuded grace. “I’d love to see the garden.” But not with you.
Much as it surprised her, it didn’t help matters that he looked as unhappy as her. Of course she couldn’t expect him to greet her with happiness; she’d run out on him at their last meeting. Hopefully he wouldn’t mention it.
“This way.” His hand at the small of her back felt both intimate and demanding, a sign of domination, small yet so powerful.
Rather than relaxing into his touch, she lurched forward. Out of reach.
His dark eyes slanted toward her in a flash of irritation, though his stride stayed smooth.
Low lanterns lit the walkway, obviously not solar lights but a good imitation of them. The stone sparkled as if shot through with metal.
Beautiful plants drew her eye along the impeccable landscaping. Must be shade-loving varieties to thrive here, and of a tropical variety. A gorgeous bloom beckoned her, so amazing she stepped closer to inspect it. Its silken petals of pastel blue, splashed with dark purple, drew her eye inside it. Before she knew it, she stood inches away, its beauty so calming. Waves of peace washed over her, and she inhaled deeply. The pungent scent overwhelmed her senses, and she stumbled back, her vision blurred. The ground seemed to slant, and she grasped for something, anything, to regain her balance. A sharp-edged leaf pricked her palm.
He caught her. “Careful.”
Good advice. “Guess I should know better than to get close to unfamiliar things. Even if they are gorgeous.” As gorgeous as him, though she knew his to be a mask of glamour. The dim lighting softened his features, accenting his dark hair and eyes so they appeared even more striking.
“Then how will you know what you like?” He leaned in, his lips reached for hers.
She turned her head away. “Some pleasures aren’t worth the price.” A sharp tang of a scent burned her nostrils, the unmistakable scent of sex. He reeked of it.
His sigh held irritation. “Lily, wait. Please. Dance with me.” He slid behind her. “Like the first night we met.”
How well she remembered. He fit himself against her and swayed, and his breath grew heavy as his hands slid south.
She pushed at his chest, but her arms had no strength. “I should get back to the party. I don’t want to be rude.”
The gleam in his eyes hardened. “Don’t you?”
His insinuation came through all too clear. “Persephone went to a great deal of trouble.”
“So did Hades and many others.”
Sure, Zeveriah tried so hard to please Hades. Lily refused to believe she’d broken his heart. His hopes, yes. If those hopes included a corner office, a bumped up salary and other perks, that was his problem. She wanted none of it.
She steeled herself as he moved closer.
“Beauty complements beauty.” He slid a black flower behind her ear.
Its stem pricked her scalp, and she flinched. “What is this?”
“An orchid. Hades’ special variety.”
Special variety? “I’m not feeling well.” Not a lie; the scrape along her scalp burned, and each moment she grew weaker, as if something drained away her strength. Her consciousness. My life!
No! They wouldn’t kill her to keep her here, would they? Panic screamed in her mind, but even that grew muffled and distant. It ebbed away, along with her sight, and the last thing she saw was the light of the candles flickering along the path. Laughing. Dancing. Celebrating her homecoming.
It would never be home. Not for Lily.
***
Lost in a tangle of strange dreams, Lily inhaled deeply, willing herself to awaken. Not so easy today. Even asleep, everything had an unusual blur, and the overwhelming scent of flowers, until the sharp bite of what, charcoal and sulfur? A harsh mixture that made her nose twitch, and finally she could open her eyes.
Seeing the ebony, diamond-faceted four-poster bed, the deep red sheets, a blend of finely woven linen and the softest silk she’d ever felt, Lily fought to sit up, only managing to prop herself up on one elbow.
An enormous bedroom, more like a bedroom suite, really, complete with a sitting area, leading to an outer room, even larger than this one.
“Where the hell…” Oh right. It was Hell.
What time is it? The bedroom had incredible, huge paintings, either excellent reproductions of famous artists’ work, or the real thing. She wouldn’t put it past Persephone to snag some authentic artwork.
“I have to find her.” I have to get home.
The outer door opened and closed, and heels clipped across the marble floor.
A man halted in the doorway. Dressed in a navy suit, with vest and bowtie, he might have been a sinister Bob Hope with that ski slope nose.
Lily snatched the sheets around her.
He heaved a little sigh. “Good morning, miss. I am here to inquire whether you need anything.”
A new head, maybe. Hers was killing her. Rubbing her temple, she asked, “Where is Persephone?”
He stood stiff as a cardboard cutout. Only his mouth moved as he said, “Meeting with staff at the moment.”
She inched upward, fighting the haze of grogginess still enveloping her. “Will you take me to her?”
The slightest twitch of an eyebrow signaled his exasperation. “As soon as you’re dressed and ready.”
Clothes. Where are mine? Lily lifted the sheet and gasped. She wore only her bra and panties. How did I get here? Who
undressed me?
“Anything else? Perhaps tea or coffee?”
Caffeine – yes. “Te—” No, they’d give her an herbal tea, probably mixed with fruit. Another trap. “Coffee, please.”
“Very good. I shall return in a few minutes. If you need anything before then, call me. My name is Elistair.”
Odd name, yet it somehow fit him. “Thank you, Elistair.” He’d be perfect in an old Hitchcock movie, the manservant who plotted against his master.
Nausea turned her stomach. She flailed out of the bedcovers and scrambled to stand, gripping the bedpost for support. Her vision wobbled as she slowly scanned her surroundings for her clothes. Not on either wingback chair that faced the fireplace, opposite. Sleek doors, nearly imperceptible, probably opened to a walk-in closet, as large as her bedroom back home, she guessed. Persephone had hooked her up with some very nice digs. Still, she couldn’t wait to leave.
Finally her search ended to her left, the ornate bench at the foot of the bed. Neatly folded atop it were her shirt, slacks and jacket, shoes lined up beneath. Hallelujah!
She eased down to sit, grasping its edges. Who knew getting dressed could pose such a challenge? Each movement churned up a new wave of nausea. By the time Elistair returned, she’d kill for the coffee he set on the table in front of the wingback chairs.
He straightened and clasped his hands together. “Anything else?”
His tone suggested boredom, a slight peevishness at having to serve her.
She managed to get to the chair, and reached for the coffee cup. “Would it be possible to have cotton sheets rather than silk? Just during my visit?” Silk sheets reminded her of a cheesy bordello. She sniffed the coffee; nothing weird about it. In fact, it smelled heavenly.
Elistair scowled. “I must first check with the master.”
“The master?” She sipped. Hades must be a real micro-manager to care about such details.
“Yes, the archduke.”
She fought against spitting out the coffee. “Zeveriah? This is his suite?”
His brow arched. “Yes.”
The cup hit the saucer with a clang. “Then don’t bother. I’m not staying.” In this room, in this place.
