by Katee Robert
The smell that wafts through the doors as they open, on the other hand, is incredibly welcome. My stomach growls and Ursa laughs. “Let's get you fed before you expire on the spot.”
“It’s not that bad.”’
“Even so, darling.” She takes my hand and tugs me after her.
The good smells get stronger as we walk through the entrance and down the hall to the kitchen. There we find Alaric monitoring something on the stove. To my delight, he’s wearing the apron I jokingly bought him last week. It’s frilly and pink and has Kiss the Cook written across the chest.
He turns as we enter the room and grins at us. There’s a smear of some kind of sauce on his cheek and flour on both apron and his pants, but he looks downright delighted. “I’ve finally nailed it this time.”
“If it tastes as good as it smells, you definitely have.” Ursa leans in and gives him a quick kiss and then moves past him. “How long until it’s ready?”
“Um.” He gives the pot a dubious look. “Maybe ten minutes?”
“I’m going to change.” She gives my hand one last squeeze and releases me. Then she’s gone, sweeping out the door and down the hall toward our room.
I go up onto my toes and kiss Alaric. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He loops an arm around my waist. “How’d it go?”
It’s impossible to keep my happy smile to myself. I beam up at him. “Really, really well. Ursa mentioned maybe me being her second-in-command.”
He gives me an indulgent look and stirs the pot with a wooden spoon. “You know that was the plan all along. Why are you so surprised?”
“Honestly? I thought she might change her mind once I started shadowing her.” It’s not so easy to shuck off an entire lifetime’s worth of being told how fragile and incompetent I am. Of being shielded from any and all darkness. Even though I know better, I half expect Ursa to decide to toss me into the penthouse and keep me there.
Alaric pulls me closer and rests his chin on my head. “You know better.”
“Yeah, I guess I do.” It doesn’t stop the sheer burst of happiness that almost has me wiggling with glee. I tap his chest and peer into the pot. “Is that soup or sauce?”
“Zuri,” he warns.
“It’s an innocent question.” I smile sweetly at him. “At least the smoke alarms aren’t going off this time and you haven’t set anything on fire.”
He gives me a mock glare. “Maybe you’re brilliant at everything you try the first time, but the rest of us mere mortals tend to misstep along the way.”
I run my hands up his chest. “I’m just teasing.”
“I know.” He gives me a little nudge. “Go change. Dinner will be ready soon.” Alaric glances at the pot. “Hopefully.”
“I have the utmost faith in you.”
Fifteen minutes later, we’re all sitting around the table and eating the soup Alaric prepared. It is good. I look at Ursa and Alaric and…
I still can’t quite believe that this is real. That I get to have both of these incredible people in my life and in my bed and that it’s working. It might not be what I once thought I wanted, but it’s a thousand times better than anything I could have dreamed up.
They’re mine and I’m theirs and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
15
Hercules’s Apology
Hades
“I have simple rules, Hercules.” I sit at my desk and press my steepled fingers to my lips. Meg is at my shoulder as she always is these days, especially during meetings affecting the vital foundations of the Underworld. Foundations that include the obedience of my staff. Foundations that include the safety of my patrons.
Hercules sits stiffly in the chair in front of the desk, his strong jaw set in a stubborn line I recognize all too well. Normally, he’s a natural fit in the position we’ve found for him. He’s essentially a den mother to the submissive and Dominants on staff, his softer touch perfectly complimenting Meg’s harder lines. He’s not her second-in-command; he’s technically outside the hierarchy, which makes him able to offer a direct line of communication to both me and Meg should the situation calls for it. He doesn’t intimidate people the same way we do, which paves the way for more honesty.
But that protective attitude of his keeps getting him into trouble.
“This is the second time you’ve inserted yourself into the affairs of the Underworld’s patrons without permission.” He opens his mouth, but I raise an eyebrow. Hercules holds longer than he used to be able to, fighting himself for a solid five seconds before he wilts and lowers his eyes. I wait another beat before continuing. “You interfered with a scene between Beast, Gaeton, and Isabelle.”
At that, he lifts his gaze, but only for a moment. “That was a mistake and I apologized.”
“Yes, you did.” Considering Isabelle wasn’t a regular of the club at the time, I let that instance go without a punishment. Hercules could have used more tact when checking in on her, but he wasn’t entirely wrong to do so.
The situation with Ursa, however, isn’t as easy to dismiss.
“This is becoming a habit of yours. If you can’t control yourself, you won’t be on the club floor without Meg or myself present, and you won’t have access to either employees or patrons.”
His jaw drops. “You wouldn’t.”
I don’t want to go to such extreme lengths, especially when he’s slid into both our lives and the club without so much as a ripple. He fits here in a way I couldn’t have dreamed at the start of this, and it makes him happy. I would go to significant lengths to make Hercules happy.
But I won’t endanger the people who trust me to keep them safe when they come to the Underworld.
Not even for him.
Meg’s hand closes on my shoulder, a light touch. Her voice, however, is as hard as it ever gets. “He would, Hercules. And if Hades makes that call, I will support him.”
The betrayal on his face hurts my chest, but this can’t be negotiated away. Hercules looks from Meg to me. “I don’t understand. It was underhanded to give Zuri’s sisters access to her, but she came here under complicated circumstances and they were worried about her.”
“Hercules.” I inject enough snap into my tone to straighten his spine. “Did the situation with Meg teach you nothing? Cease trying to save women who don’t want to be saved. Zuri is back in Ursa’s arms. She chose Ursa from the beginning. That was not your call to make.” I hold up a hand when he starts to argue. “If you were that concerned about Zurielle, you should have brought it to me or Meg. We would have arranged a meeting with her sisters—with Ursa’s knowledge—and ensured it all happened aboveboard. As it is, you essentially allowed a kidnapping.”
His brows slam together. “That’s not what happened.”
Meg’s hand tightens on my shoulder the slightest bit. “Zurielle was contracted with Ursa and had no desire to break that contract until you intervened.”
“Because…” He trails off and his shoulders drop. “She came back to Ursa?”
“The first chance she got.”
He stares at the ground a long moment. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“Hercules,” Meg drawls. “You didn’t think at all.”
He seems to steel himself and meets my gaze. “I’m to be punished.”
“Yes.” I don’t see the point in drawing this out longer than it needs to be. “This is your second strikes, but even if I were inclined to let it go without punishment, it’s not an option.” I lean forward. “If this happens again, you’re out.”
“You’ll kick me out.” He goes pale.
I shake my head slowly. “No, Hercules. You’re ours, and you’ll remain that way, regardless of what happens with the Underworld. However, if you violate the rules again, you will be banned from the club floor, both public and private. Do you understand?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Good. It means he’s actually thinking things through for once. I love this impulsive, over-protective teddy bear of a man, but even I
can’t bend these rules for him. When he finally nods and answers, I believe the sincerity in his voice. “I understand.”
“Are you ready to accept your punishment?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good.” I glance at Meg. “Please extend an invitation to Ursa for tonight. Inform her that we’d like to make an official apology.”
Meg squeezes my shoulder and releases me. “Yes, Sir.”
I refocus on Hercules. “I’m going to beat you, little Hercules. When I’m satisfied you’ve suffered enough, you’re going to crawl across the public playroom and beg for Ursa’s forgiveness.”
“Okay,” he whispers.
“Change into the black shorts, and then go kneel in the public playroom and wait for me. Position yourself in front of the St. Andrew’s Cross.”
“Yes, Sir.” He rises on unsteady legs and exits the office.
Meg moves to perch on the edge of my desk. “Not as harsh a punishment as it could have been.”
I slide my hand up her thigh. Not for seduction; simply because I like touching her. “No, not as harsh as it could have been.”
“You don’t bluff, Hades.”
I look up and hold her gaze. “No, I don’t. If he can’t abide by the rules, he won’t be in the Underworld.”
“That will create some challenges.”
I raise my brows. “Are you arguing that he should be given more leniency?”
“No.” Meg huffs out a breath. “Both the Underworld and your neutral territory operate on your being able to enforce the rules. If Hercules keeps flouting them, it will undermine your authority, which makes it dangerous for everyone here.”
It’s exactly the conclusion I came to, but I find it strangely reassuring to hear her voice it. More and more, I’ve started reaching out to Meg to at least verbally walk through larger decisions. More often than not, we’re in agreement, but the communication has only served to strengthen our foundations. “He has one more chance.”
“I know.” She leans down and brushes a light kiss against my lips. “I’ll call Ursa.”
I watch her walk out the door and sigh. Maybe I really am going soft in my old age, love blunting my harsh edges. I don’t mind beating Hercules, or even humiliating him in front of an audience, but I’d rather do it in private.
It won’t work this time, for this situation. Both punishment and apology need to be public.
It takes several hours to get everything into place. I have a monitor up of the public playroom the entire time, keeping an eye on Hercules. He obeys beautifully, kneeling with his head bowed as the room slowly fills up around him. He doesn’t look up once, doesn’t do more than shift a little from time to time as the stiffness sets into his body.
The study door opens and Meg slips in. “Ursa’s here.”
“Good.” I rise and we walk together to the public playroom. It’s late enough to be crowded, but early enough that people are still chatting and only engaged in minor play. Not that it matters. Those here will spread the word once things are wrapped up, and that’s enough to accomplish my goals. Ursa’s here, which means she intends on accepting the apology. It’s enough.
I catch Meg’s wrist upon entering the public playroom and pull her close enough to kiss. She submits beautifully, instantly melting and opening to me until I’ve had my fill. As if that will ever happen. Still, it’s enough to tide me over until the end of the night. “The club is in your hands for the duration.”
She smiles against my lips. “Go do your worst.”
I don’t respond. I simply make my way through the scattering of chairs and couches to where Hercules kneels. The conversation hushes in a wave behind me. It’s been months since I’ve last played in public, and by now everyone knows at least some part of the story that brought us to this place. Hercules stepping out of line again. Hercules letting his shining honor get the best of him. Again.
I lace my fingers through his hair and tug his face up until I can see his eyes. “Are you ready for your punishment?”
He licks his lips. “Yes, Sir.”
“Your safe word?” The question is more habit than anything else. I know it by heart.
“Olympus.”
“Very well.” I release him and step back. “On your feet, little Hercules.”
It’s a studied cruelty that keeps me in place as he struggles to his feet. I stand ready to catch him if he falls—I am the only one allowed to hurt Hercules—but he manages to make it to a standing position after a moment. I motion to the cross, and he obeys, moving to stand facing it and lifting his arms so I can fasten him into place. If this were any other scene, he’d be naked, but this is a punishment, so poor Hercules’s cock is going to be neglected tonight.
I go to the small chest I had Meg bring out here earlier. It’s got three floggers of varying weights, all picked with this punishment in mind. I weigh the first in my hand and consider him. “Remember to breathe.” I don’t give him a chance to respond. I simply start beating him in methodical strikes.
By the time I work over his entire back with the first flogger, he’s lost some of the tension in his body. The second flogger brings it back, and I watch him closely, noting the way he clings to the cross with a white-knuckled grip.
My arm and shoulder are aching as I pick up the third flogger. This one is meant for agony, and I don’t intend to use it for a prolonged period of time. I’m bringing him to the edge—not over it. Three strikes. That’s all it takes for his legs to give out.
I set the flogger aside and walk to him. He twists as much as he’s able and I note the tear tracts on his face. I casually wipe one with my thumb. “Are you ready to apologize?”
It takes him three tries to form words. When he finally does, his voice is haggard. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good.” I keep a hand at his back as I unfasten the cuffs, just in case his legs give out entirely. He wobbles a little, but doesn’t collapse. I pause to squeeze the back of his neck lightly. “On your knees.”
He sinks down without a word.
“Crawl to Ursa.”
Whether by designer or accident, she’s on the other side of the room. Hercules moves quicker than I expect considering the way his back and thighs look, but he’s still obviously in pain as he reaches the couch where she reclines next to Malone. Zurielle and Alaric are nowhere in sight, but I don’t blame her for leaving them at home tonight.
I stop Hercules with my hand in his hair and tug him up onto his knees. “Ursa.”
“Hades.”
“My submissive has something to say to you, if you’re willing to hear it.”
She inclines her head. “By all means.”
I keep a hold of him as he draws in a ragged breath. People aren’t overtly staring, but we have the attention of nearly everyone in the room. Just as I planned. Hercules shivers. “I’m sorry, Ursa. I was out of line in my conduct with your submissive. It won’t happen again.”
She studies him the way a predator studies a wounded animal. For a moment, I think she’ll use this chance to undercut me entirely. She’d be well within her rights to do it, but the damage control will take far longer than I want to contemplate. Finally, she gives an elegant shrug. “All is forgiven, Hercules. With the understanding that if you do it again, I won’t be so accommodating.”
I release his hair, allowing him to bow his head. “I understand.”
She glances at me. “Quite the show you put on.”
“Some punishments are required to be public.”
“Oh, I’m well aware.” She gives me one more long look and then turns to Malone, effectively dismissing me. It’s a snub, but a small one.
I pull Hercules to his feet and slide an arm around his waist. He’s listing a bit, but he manages to keep his feet as we leave the public playroom and make our way back to my study. But he practically collapses onto the couch as I ease him down. I grab a blanket to wrap around him and settle down on the couch so I can pull him closer. “You did well.”
&nb
sp; He shivers and slides his arms around my waist, half in my lap. “I’m sorry, Hades. I really am. It won’t happen again.”
“I know, little Hercules.” I sift my fingers through his hair and tug the blanket more firmly around him. “You’re forgiven.”
His breath shudders out and he closes his eyes. A few moments later, his breathing evens out. I permit myself a small smile. Of course he’s fallen asleep, and of course he’s done it in record time. I settle back against the couch and content myself with holding him. I believe him that it won’t happen again. Hercules might be misguided at times, but he has his priorities in order. He’ll find other ways to help people he decides are in need. He’s a knight in shining armor, after all. Not even living and loving in the Underworld is enough to tarnish that armor.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
This short originally appeared as the November 2020 short for my Patreon. Each month, patrons nominate their favorite couples and characters, vote on one, and I write a brand new short featuring the winner. For more bonus stories, please consider joining my Patreon.
16
Late Night Conversations
Aurora
Exhaustion weighs heavily on me as the elevator ascends. It’s been a long night in a string of long nights. The Underworld is busier than ever these days. Happiness looks good on the leaders of Carver City, and they’re all fucking like rabbits as a result. The only one I haven’t seen in a few weeks is Tink, and that’s mostly because her morning sickness is turning out to be all-the-time sickness. Tomorrow’s my day off, though, and I’m going to pop in with some grape popsicles and rub her feet. Hook said that’s the only thing she can keep down, so I’m going to load her up.
But that’s tomorrow.
The elevator eases to a stop and the doors open. I take one step out and inhale sharply. What is that I’m smelling? I inhale again, drifting farther into the penthouse I now share with Malone. I wander toward the kitchen, still sniffing and trying to identify the mouth-watering scent permeating the penthouse.
