Chapter 14—Persephone

I waited for night to fall before I decided to come out here.

I’m at the cottage by the lake where Lukiyan is staying.

Maybe coming out here to see him is a bad idea, but I wanted to talk to him properly before I disappear.

I wanted to thank him for what he did today.

Inside, the cottage is dark and there’s no sign of life, so I’m hoping he’s here.

This will probably be the only chance I get to see him without everyone around.

I’m sure he’ll be at the fundraiser tomorrow, but it will be too late then.

The cool night air stings my skin where it’s bruised as I walk through the rose garden and head to the door. The entire left side of my face was so swollen earlier that I looked like a football. The swelling has gone down now, thanks to Frankie, but the bruises are there and even when they’re gone, I know I’ll still feel them.

Before I knock on the door, the splash of water catches my attention. It’s not in the lake, so it must be coming from the pool at the back of the house.

I make my way around there and stop by the archway when I see Lukiyan doing laps in the pool.

The amber light from the solar panels shines down on him, highlighting his athletic ability to glide through the water and own it the way he does everything else.

I’m hidden in the shadow of the archway so he can’t see me, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know I’m here.

I get the feeling he does.

Powerful arms lined with muscle and tattoos slice through the water. Then he stops at the other end of the pool and gets out, revealing he’s naked.

My entire body melts from the heat that instantly consumes me as I watch him, taking in every inch of his perfection. Rock-hard muscles flex when he bends down to grab a towel.

Instead of wrapping it around himself, he dries his hair and turns to face me, showing his erect cock, long and massive, bobbing before him.

Christ.

It doesn’t matter where I am, asleep or awake, I lose myself when I’m around this man. I become instantly aroused, and it feels raw and primal.

As if I ever stood a chance of resisting the temptation that draws me to him.

“You can come out now, unless you want to stay there all night,” he says.

I was obviously right that he knew I was here.

When I step out of the shadows, he does nothing to cover his cock.

He continues drying his body, and hair, but purposely leaves his cock exposed.

I’m grateful for the partial darkness to hide the wild blush sweeping over my pale skin.

“Is this what you do in your spare time? Swim naked and rescue damsels in distress?”

He continues to stare at me, but his expression lacks emotion.

“It looks that way.”

“I’m not sure if those are things Hades would do.”

“Well, he did them today.” He covers himself now, wrapping the towel around his waist. “How’s your face?”

“It’s seen better days. Thank you for what you did for me.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that.” He sighs and tenses the square line of his jaw. “You shouldn’t be here, Persephone.”

My lips part to answer but he walks into the house, leaving me.

I’d dismiss myself if I knew tomorrow wouldn’t change everything for me, so I follow him in.

It’s been a while since I came here. The guards have always lived here.

This was where Patrick, the Capo who died, used to live. Although he worked for my father for years, I never really spoke to him. He was one of the silent types.

Lukiyan walks into the kitchen and grabs himself a beer out of the fridge.

He sets it on the counter top and gets out some orange juice and a glass from the cabinet. He pours some and hands it to me.

I’m not thirsty, but I take it, and he watches me down the contents.

“Why shouldn’t I be here? I had to say thanks.”

“You just shouldn’t be.”

“Well, I am. God knows what would have happened to me if you hadn’t come along.” I know he’s going to get in trouble for what he did, if he hasn’t already. “I am grateful.”

“You’re welcome.”

I study his face, and the myriad of questions I had about him rush back to me.

“All I know is your name.”

“My name?”

“Yeah, and I suppose since you spoke Russian to me the other night and your surname sounds like it, I guessed you must be that nationality. Are you?”

He stares at me for a moment before he straightens.

“I’m half Russian.”

“Which half?”

“My mother.”

“Did you ever live in Russia?”

“I was born there, but I grew up here in the States.”

“That’s cool. I was born in Brazil. I’m sure you know this already, but I have family there. That’s why I was there and how we met. How come you were there?”

“I needed a break.”

“What from?”

“No…”

His answer stuns me. “No to what?”

“This isn’t twenty questions. You still don’t get to know about me.”

“Why?”

He takes a swig of his beer and presses his lips together. “Because it’s best.”

“How about three questions, then?”

He smirks and considers the request for a moment. A bubble of excitement fills me when he nods. “Okay, three questions. You don’t give up, do you?”

“No, not so much.”

“I didn’t think so. You get three questions, but I don’t have to give you an answer to any.”

I chuckle, and his gaze drops to my lips. “How is that fair?”

“Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it.”

“I get three questions, too, and you have to answer those.”

Well played. I wish I’d thought of that. This could be a bad idea, but my curiosity about him is getting the better of me.

“You got it. Me first, though.”

“Alright. Go for it, but choose wisely.”

I want to ask about where he came from but decide against it. I have better questions for him. More meaningful questions that I hope he’ll answer.

I think of the first one. It’s an easy one he should answer.

“How old are you?” I ask.

“Twenty-eight.”

Although he acts older, I could have guessed he was in his twenties from his cool style and the youthfulness in his face.

“You act older.”

“I have to. My turn,” he says. “When did you start dancing?”

That’s a question I love, and I can’t help but smile. “My mother told me I’ve been dancing since I first learned to walk. I heard the music and fell in love with it. I never looked back.”

When I get to where I’m going, I’ll give it a little while until things settle before I plan to find some way of dancing. I figured it’s not going to be too hard to find somewhere like that in Europe.

“I could tell. Your turn again.”

This next question is one I’ve mulled over for months. So, I don’t have to think about it at all.

“Back in Brazil, what made you choose me?” It was odd, at least I thought so.

I was dancing by myself at the club and now that I think of it, I must have looked like a loner. I was clearly there by myself.

The only men I think would have picked me up were the ones with bad intentions. But this one just wanted a night with me.

He steps closer, reaches out to take a lock of my hair, and I’m reminded of us that night again.

“You’re beautiful.” He speaks in a low, almost reverent voice that gives me goosebumps. Not because he’s scared me, but more so because I’ve never had anyone look at me the way he is, or sound the way he sounds in relation to me.

It’s like he sees me as something hallowed.

“You think I’m beautiful?”

“Is that another question?”

“No. You can elaborate, can’t you?”

He inches closer and the raw, masculine scent of him fills me with need and carnal desire.

“Persephone, goddess of spring and things that live and flourish in beauty. Yes, I think you’re beautiful.” He holds my gaze, his eyes piercing my soul, peering into my mind to seek my inner thoughts. I always try to mask everything—the good and the bad—but I don’t want to with him. “My turn.”

“Your turn.”

He plants one thick finger on my chest and smooths away the fabric of my top so he can see the tattoo covering my scar.

I know what he’s looking at, and I know what he’ll ask even before he opens his mouth. I just don’t know if I can hold up my end of the deal and give him an answer.

“What happened to you here? That’s not just a tattoo.” There it is.

I feel like I should have known he would ask me that question.

I continue to stare at him, trying to formulate an answer that doesn’t hurt, except I can’t think of one.

Since I try to never think about the fine print of why I’m still alive and my twin isn’t, it’s hard to come up with an answer.

“Surgery.”

Worry clouds his eyes, and I relish in it. Seeing his emotion for me clings to my mind in a way I can’t describe.

“What kind of surgery?”

“Is that your third question?” I try to play smart.

“You know it’s not. We can elaborate, can’t we?” He borrows my words, and I don’t blame him.

“Yes, we can.”

“What kind of surgery did you have?”

“Heart surgery.” Tears prick the backs of my eyes as I push away the rest of that truth. I don’t have to tell him any more than I already have.

I’ve never had to talk about it because everyone knew what happened. When I disappear, I’ll never have to talk about it with anyone again, and I’ll never have my father’s judging eyes on me, making me feel like I don’t deserve life.

“Are you okay now?”

I nod, then he surprises me by lowering his head to plant a kiss on the base of my scar. He then proceeds to drop one kiss after another up the line of butterflies and roses forming my tattoo, his lips leaving fire in their wake as he makes his way up.

It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever had done to me.

My God. My body comes alive with wild energy, and I want him to do so much more to me.

He soothes the ache in my soul and arouses me at the same time because it’s unbecoming of him.

I’m not ready for him to pull away. I don’t want him to.

“Your turn,” he rasps.

I have to take a quick gulp of air to clear my mind. I had the questions all there, but they’ve faded.

Think, Persephone, get yourself together. You can’t be this aroused every time you see this man.

But I am, and he knows it. The wicked smirk on his ridiculously handsome face tells me he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. It has to be sinful to be so gorgeous and sexy at the same time.

What’s my question?

“What made you work for my father?” I ask him that because I’ll always wonder how it was he came back to me.

“It’s a good job, and he pays well.” The answer feels like a lie and the truth rolled into one, which can’t be good.

I know working for my father is exactly what he says, but part of me doesn’t believe that’s why he’d want the job.

“That was your last question, Persephone. My turn.”

“Go for it.”

I don’t know what else he might ask me, but there’s a lot I don’t want to answer.

“Why’d you give your virginity to me?”

Like that. I think for a moment and decide to go with the truth because I think he’ll understand.

“I didn’t want the monster to have it. I wanted to choose. That day, my birthday, my father signed me away to Antonio. I never saw it coming even though I knew he was going to marry me off. I just never expected it would be to that bastard. I hate him.” I hate Antonio even more for what he did to me earlier.

So tomorrow has to work. I can’t fail and be left here to live a life with a man who will end me.

Lukiyan leans forward again and I lift my head.

He looms before me and presses a finger to my lips, tracing the outline of my mouth.

“He doesn’t deserve you. No one does, not even me.”

“But I gave myself to you.” I don’t know why I said that. It’s meaningless and will never have any bearing.

Nevertheless, it’s the truth.

He presses his finger into my jaw, coming closer so he’s a kiss away.

“I still didn’t deserve you.”

“You’re my Hades.”

Something flashes in his eyes as the words fall from my lips. He stares back at me with an open expression, as if the walls he’s built up have crumbled away.

There’s a moment of silence that seems to stretch for eons, and I don’t know what he’ll do next.

The silence becomes thick, like tar, and just as daunting.

Then he closes the space between us when he moves to my lips and gives me another forbidden kiss. It’s a mere brush over my mouth that feels too chaste for him, almost like he’s tasting me.

Once he gets the taste and I do, too, we both kiss each other harder, as if we should have always been kissing and never apart.

His tongue swoops into my mouth and dances with mine in the most delicious way, luring me to the dark side.

He pulls away and moves down to my breast, sucking my left nipple through the fabric of my tank top before he moves it away completely along with the cup of my bra, exposing the pleading nipple so he can suck it properly.

Arousal claws within me as the hot pleasure courses through my veins like lava in a volcano ready to erupt.

The ounce of awareness that’s left in my mind cautions that we’re right by the kitchen window. Anyone passing by would be able to see us. And it could be anyone.

Father, Antonio, Raven, or one of the other guards.

But I don’t care. I’m so sick of having to tiptoe around what I want to do, and I’m sick of worrying.

Fuck everything and everyone. If Lukiyan is going to fuck me right here against the wall, it’s happening.

He pulls my other breast out, and sucks on it, giving my body the attention it craves.

Madness consumes me when he slips his hand under my skirt to cup my sex and starts massaging my pussy.

His fingers slide into my panties, and he rubs my already swollen clit.

“You’re so wet. Always wet for me. Do you want me to fuck you, Persephone?”

It must be a rhetorical question because my body is begging to be fucked.

“Yes.”

He returns to my lips and gives me a cruel, punishing kiss that leaves me breathless. Keeping his hands on my pussy he plunges his finger in and out of my wet passage. First it’s hard, like he’s fucking me, then slow and caressing.

I can feel his hard cock pressing into my belly through the towel, and I want to touch it. So I do. I rub along his length and try to get to it through the towel.

When Lukiyan pulls out of the kiss, I think he’s going to continue what he’s doing to me, but he doesn’t, and when he takes my hand off his cock and I see the guarded look return to his eyes, my hopes crash.

He catches my face and gives me a long, hard stare. He almost seems like a different person from the version he was only moments ago.

“Sweet Persephone, I’ve never met another woman who was more greedy for my dick. But I’m not going to make you my whore tonight.”

He is different. His choice of words feel like they were selected to hurt me and bring me down from the wild sexual high he took me to.

And they do.

“I’m not a whore.”

“You are when you’re with me. But you don’t belong to me. You’re his.”

Antonio’s.

“You said I wasn’t.”

He gives me a flinty gaze. “It doesn’t matter what I say. You belong to him. Now go home. I’m not going to give you what you came for.”

I pull out of his grasp, covering myself as humiliation consumes me.

“I came to thank you.”

“That was just an excuse to get fucked.”

“Why are you such an asshole?” I swallow hard.

“Go home.”

Everyone talks to me like I’m a child. I never expected him to do it, too.

But it’s worse with him because he rejected me.

“Goodbye, Hades.” I mean that as my final thought for this nonsense.

Turning on my heels, I leave, never looking back.

Goodbye forever, Lukiyan. I wish I’d never met you.

I’m in enough pain as it is, but he’s the only person who’s ever made me feel broken.