23. Persephone

Chapter 23

Persephone

I 'd been thankful Hades hadn't been home when I got back from school, and even more grateful that he'd sent me a text saying he wouldn't make dinner, that he'd be home late.

At the end of the night I found myself in his bathroom under the spray of water so hot it nearly burned my skin.

I didn't know how long I stood under the water, but I heard a rhythmic thumping come closer a second before there was a knock on the bathroom door and it opened.

"Sweetheart?" Hades' voice was deep and smooth, like the whiskey he drank.

I closed my eyes and pressed my bruised wrist to my side. I cleared my throat and said, "H-hey."

He was silent, and a moment later I pushed the glass shower door aside and forced a smile. He stood in the doorway, his expression impossible to read.

He cocked his head to the side as he eyed me—examined me. "What's wrong?"

I made my smile bigger, which I knew looked uncomfortable as hell and totally forced. I shook my head. "Nothing. I'm fine."

Still with a stoic expression, his gaze traveled along my body—what he could see, anyway. He was silent for a long while… too long.

And then he was stepping all the way in, pulling the glass door aside all the way, and his gaze immediately—instinctively—landed on my bruised wrist.

"Who did that to you?" His voice was dangerously low, and I shivered despite the hot spray of the shower.

I wasn't fooled by his relaxed posture or even his tone. He looked powerful standing before me, watching me with this unrestrained violence that I knew could be unleashed.

He cradled my hand in his. His focus was trained on my arm, as he slid his fingers along the edge of the bruising.

"Who did this, Bunny? Tell me."

I shook my head, although I knew I couldn't lie to him. Not for long anyway. "I can take care of myself."

He smiled, but it was harsh, cold, and didn't reach his eyes. "I know you can, baby. But I still want you to tell me." He cupped the side of my face, water soaking the sleeve of his suit. "I want you to tell me so I can take care of it."

I shivered, staring up at his face with wide eyes and my heart in my throat. And as much as I was terrified of what Hades would undoubtedly do, a darker part of me wanted Martin Wilcox to hurt the way he'd hurt me.

I wasn't strong enough physically, didn't have the means to handle this situation, but what I had was Hades.

The man I'd fallen for. My dark angel. The devil at my side.

So… I told him everything.

A ll night I tossed and turned, dreaming about Trevor having his hands on me, then his father doing the same.

They shouted at me, called me horrible things. They hurt me. But then Hades came in, and there was blood everywhere. It was their cries of pain that drowned everything out instead of mine.

I woke up in a sweat, the spot beside me cold and unused. I tried to come back online, my mind fuzzy with sleep, my heart racing from the dream.

I pushed myself up just as I heard the bathroom door open. The light kicked off, steam billowed out, and Hades walked into the room, a towel draped around his waist, all that hard male physique and tattooed flesh, causing my heart to beat faster for another reason.

"Go back to sleep, baby," he said in a low voice as he approached the edge of the bed, pulled off the towel, and got in beside me.

When he pulled me close to his chest I shivered, feeling the beads of sweat that dotted my brow from the dream cooling.

"You're shaking," he whispered against my ear, the heavy band of his arm keeping me close to his chest.

"Just a dream." I closed my eyes and let his heat surround me. His body was warmer than normal from his recent shower. "Where did you go?" I slid my fingers between his and he buried his face in my nape, inhaling deeply.

"Nothing. Just work, baby. Go back to bed."

I felt my eyes grow heavy with sleep, but glanced down at his hands, seeing his knuckles broken with fresh wounds.

"Just work?" My voice was soft as I slid my hand from his and traced the edge of the wounds. He'd hurt someone, and I knew who. I knew why. My gaze landed on my wrist, the angry, ugly bruising seeming darker in the shadows.

He inhaled at the side of my neck before placing a kiss there. "Just work. I had unfinished business I had to take care of. It's all good now." He slid his hand over my belly and spread his fingers.

I could feel how hard he was, and a second later he slid my panties off, lifted my leg so it was dropped over his thigh, and slid into me.

He groaned, "Fuck yes, Bunny. That's it. My good girl."

I was already wet just from his closeness, my body opening up and accepting him with ease.

And just like that, he washed away those bad dreams and replaced them with his arousing brutality.