Chapter 5

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.

I want to hate the whole room. I really do. But it’s weirdly cozy and decadent and as long as I don’t look at how he disrespects his clothing, I kind of like it.

I point at the bed. “You had damn well better change the sheets if you want me anywhere near that thing.”

Hook drops onto the edge of the mattress and, good god, that’s a scene right out of the fantasies I refuse to admit to having. The top few buttons of his shirt have come undone somewhere along the way, and the deep V of his medium brown skin with a dusting of dark hair actually makes my mouth water. He leans back, letting me look my fill.

To annoy him, I do exactly that. Or at least that’s what I tell myself as I let my gaze roam over the strength in his shoulders and way his thighs fill out those slacks. I save his hair for last. It’s almost as long as mine and thick enough that I’m envious. I need creative use of a straightener and a whole lot of product to achieve the same amount of wave in my hair. Hook’s is all natural.

And then there are the piercings. I once heard Hercules describe Hook as a sexy pirate and he’s not wrong. Between the long hair and the neatly trimmed beard and the rings he has on multiple fingers and … My attention snags on the labret piercing nestled below his full bottom lip. I can’t look at his mouth without wanting to kiss him, which exactly the wrong kind of mentality to have about this shit.

“See something you like?”

“My jailer.”

His grin only widens. Hook’s perverse like that. It doesn’t matter how many times I turn him down or how mean I am, his response is always to seem downright delighted by me.

---

It’s a marked difference from the few times we interacted before, when he looked at me with pity and some emotion I never dared name. Peter’s other men either ignored me or lusted after me—at least when he wasn’t looking. Not Hook. I could always feel his attention drilling a hole through my carefully curated numbness.

I don’t know what changed in those months between my leaving and his taking over the territory. He tried to see me once, but I couldn’t stand the thought of any connection to Peter touching my fragile new life. Plus, I didn’t trust him. Hades might have promised me safety, but if Hook dragged me back to Peter, would he pursue? I didn’t know, so I went the safe route. I hid.

There’s no pity in Hook’s dark eyes now. No, there’s just pure delight at my snark. I don’t understand it, and I don’t trust it. Even in the Underworld, there were Doms who saw my attitude as an invitation to break me down. I learned to avoid them, but I don’t have the safety net the club offers now.

He waves a casual hand at the atrocity that is his closet area. “I’ll send for your shit. Put it wherever you like.”

I sift through the words for a hidden meaning but find nothing. “And then what?”

“Tonight we announce our happy union in the only appropriate way for people like us.”

I know what he means even as I try to deny it. There’s only one way to communicate this kind of big change to the entirety of Carver City. It’s possible I’m wrong. “How?”

He pushes to his feet. “The Underworld.”

“No. Absolutely not.” I swipe my hands through the air as if that will make a difference. “You said no sex.”

“I said I wouldn’t fuck you, and I won’t until our terms are met.” He wades into the mess of his clothes and digs through the middle wardrobe while I gape at him. Surely he can’t mean … He definitely doesn’t mean …

Hook retrieves whatever he was looking for and stalks back to me. He holds out a hand, and I gingerly place mine in his. It’s hard not to notice how much larger he is when his big palm is dwarfing mine. I watch numbly as he slips a ring with a giant-ass diamond onto my finger. It fits perfectly, which will piss me off later, when I’m not so shell-shocked. “What about you?” I don’t mean to ask. I really don’t.

He laughs. “I have one, too.” He pulls a matte black ring from his pocket and slips it onto the ring finger of his left hand.

I hate that he was so sure of me that he bought rings. I hate that mine is a princess cut diamond that’s simple and elegant and exactly what I would have chosen for myself. I yank my hand from his. “I’m not going to the Underworld tonight.”

“You don’t have a choice.” He unbuttons his shirt in slow movements. “Unless you plan on hiding in this room like a coward for the rest of your life, you have to play the game. You know that, so stop wasting both our time fighting over something that you know you can’t win.”

I watch helplessly as he shrugs out of his shirt. “What are you doing?”

“Showering.” He kicks off his shoes in the approximate direction of the rest of his clothing. “Want to watch?”

With how the shower’s set up, I won’t have a choice, and he knows it. I paste a bored look on my face. “I’ve seen the show. I’m not interested.”

“Ah, but this one’s different.” His hands fall to his pants.

I almost lick my lips before I catch myself. “Why is this one different?”

When he speaks again, the amusement is gone from his voice, leaving it deeper. “Because this show is for you.” Hook walks away before I can come up with a response to that, which is just as well because I don’t have a response to that.

I stumble to the bed and sink onto the edge of it. The moment I do, I get a whiff of the clean scent of laundry soap, and I almost laugh. The bastard cleaned his sheets in preparation for me. Of course he did.

The water comes on in the bathroom, and I look up to find that just as I suspected, I can clearly see the outline of Hook’s naked body as he steps beneath the spray and tilts his head back.

Holy shit.

I’ve seen him naked before. Impossible to participate in the Underworld’s public activities without seeing others naked. It’s different now. There’s no one else here. He’s putting on this show for me and me alone.

I bite my bottom lip as I watch him soap himself up, running his hands over his body in slow, methodical motions. All the fear and frustration and turmoil of the last couple days switches to pure lust as he takes his cock in his fist and gives himself a rough stroke. I don’t have to see the minute details to know exactly what it looks like. Long and thick and perfect for the rough kind of fucking I crave.

My body goes tight and hot, and I press my thighs together. It doesn’t relieve the feeling. It only makes it worse. He’s teasing me on purpose, hoping to stoke me into a lust-fueled frenzy that ends with me on my knees and begging. Depriving myself would only give him what he wants, right? The logic is hazy at best, but I kick off my heels and shift back farther onto the bed. Before I can think of all the reasons this is a terrible idea, I drag my dress up and delve a hand into my panties.

I circle my clit in time to Hook’s strokes, each touch sending my pleasure spiking higher. The fact that it feels absolutely forbidden to be doing this while he’s jacking his hand half a room away only makes it hotter.

“Tatiana.”

I jump and press hard against my clit. I have to fight back a moan, but my voice comes out breathy when I answer. “What?”

“If I walk in there right now, am I going to find your hand in your panties?”

I start circling again. His pleasure-roughened voice only pushes me closer to orgasm. “Yes.”

His curse makes me smile, just a little bit. Hook is so much, all the time. It can be frustrating as hell, but he’s not one to play games and pretend disinterest. He wants to fuck me, and he’s not shy about letting me know.

He turns and braces a hand against the glass, a perfect imprint of five fingers and his palm. With his other hand, he resumes stroking his cock. “Always the dirty girl. Always fucking teasing me.”

Suddenly, my fingers aren’t enough. I want more. Goddamn it, I want him, and I hate myself for it as much as I hate him for making me feel this way. I try to pull back, but I’m too close. My body has a mind of its own now, my hips rising to press against my fingers. A moan remains trapped on the inside of my lips through sheer force of will.

“Get that pretty pussy of yours ready, Tatiana.” He growls my name and, for the first time, it doesn’t make my chest tighten. It sounds sexy and forbidden and, holy fuck, what is he doing to me? We’re not even in the same room, not really, but it feels like he’s whispering directly into my ear. He curses. “Come for me, beautiful girl. Take the edge off so I can take care of you tonight.”

I come before I can stop myself, responding to the rising desire as much as to his rough words. I watch helplessly as he follows, his strokes becoming rougher as he finishes with a muttered curse I can’t quite make out.

I barely get my hand out of my panties before he shuts off the shower and walks in the room with a towel wrapped around his waist. He hasn’t bothered to dry off and water drips down his chest in tiny rivulets that are the most tempting kind of invitation. If he was a different person, if we were in a different situation, I’d want to trace those same pathways with my tongue.

The look he gives my bare legs sends heat bolting to my core despite my orgasm. Hook’s one of the only people who knew me when my body was considered “ideal” by society’s standards. I gave that shit up a long time ago in my quest for me. I don’t care what he thinks of my abundant curves and softness.

Except the way his eyes get hot and he licks his lips is really, really hot. Knowing it’s because he likes what he sees … I’m not immune.

I’m an asshole in my own right, because I use a single finger to drag my panties to the side and let him see the mess I made of myself.

He moves a step closer and then another, his gaze glued to my pussy. A quick glance at my face and he kneels at the edge of the bed. “Tell me your safe word, Tatiana.”

I can’t quite catch my breath. “You don’t need my safe word if you’re not going to fuck me.”

His lips curve. “Beautiful girl, you know better. There are thousands upon thousands of things I can do to you without ever penetrating that pretty pussy.”

I don’t want to tell him. But changing the safe word I’ve used for five years because I don’t want to admit it is as cowardly as he accused me of being. I grit my teeth. “Pirate.”

Hook’s grin is downright blinding. “Pirate,” he repeats slowly. “I see.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Mmm.” He releases me from his gaze and narrows his attention on my pussy again. “Are you ready to be on your knees?”

If I say yes, if I go through with it, then he’ll fuck me right now. The intent is written all over his face. He wants this as much as I do. More, maybe.

If I say yes, I lose what little leverage I have.

“No.”

“So be it.” He snags the wrist of the hand I used to masturbate and drags me forward. I watch with wide eyes as he sucks each individual finger into his mouth, one at a time. His tongue slides against my sensitive skin, and I can’t quite stifle a whimper. Hook releases me and drags his thumb across my palm. “Your stuff will be here in the next few days. No one in the house will mess with you, but it’s wise to stay in this room until we’ve gone public with the marriage. Once everyone knows you’re mine, they won’t touch you.” He grins. “Unless I ask them nicely and you’re down for it.”

I blink. He’s moving too quickly, switching subjects with ease when I’m still hung up on the way he makes my skin buzz.

But then, it’s just a game for Hook. He’s like every other territory leader in this city, moving the pieces about in his eternal quest for power. I’m just a pawn in another person’s game. My only value to him is that Peter won’t let me go. Marrying me, rubbing our so-called relationship in the public’s face, that’s destined to piss Peter off. That has to be part of the plan. A plan I need to remember, because Hook is not for me. He’s everything I very much don’t want in my life. I’ve walked this path before, falling for a man more in love with power than he could ever be with me. If I had a single choice in the matter, I wouldn’t go down it again. Peter was a monster before he was powerful, but that old saying about power corrupting a person isn’t wrong. The more power he claimed, the more monstrous he became. No one is immune to the seductive temptation of more. Not Peter. Not Hook, either.

If he’s not a full monster now, he will be in the future.

“You’re saying I’m trapped here.” I carefully withdraw my hand from his. “Is this another joke of yours, because you can’t possibly be serious.”

“I am serious. It’s safest for you here, at least for now.” He hesitates for the briefest of moments and then pushes to his feet. “Be ready at nine.”

I manage to keep my temper locked down until the elevator doors close behind him. How dare he? I am not a toy he can use and toss away when he’s not in the mood any longer. He wants a wife, but not until the right time, not until he can use me to his best advantage.

I drag my hands through my hair. I can’t do this. I can’t be trapped like this. It’s a different house, a different room, a different man. It doesn’t matter. Hook knows my history, and he still essentially locked me up here.

My gaze lands on the mess of clothes. That fucker wants to lock me up?

He’ll have to pay the price.