Chapter 8

8

Aurora

Isleep late. Or maybe it’s not late at all. Working in the Underworld for so many years has turned me into a nocturnal creature. I’m rarely up before noon most days. It takes me several long seconds before I remember where I am and why I’m here. Malone’s.

Two weeks of kink. Revenge. Murder.

Damn it, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I fully intended to wait for her go to bed and then take a look around the penthouse to see what I could find. I stare at the ceiling, and I can almost hear Allecto’s voice in my head. You call that a plan?

“It’s better than nothing.” I feel so unmoored. It’s not just that I have nothing to do until this afternoon. For so long, the possibility of my mother someday waking up was what kept me going each day. But as the years ticked into decades, that hope became more fairy tale than reality. The truth is that the doctors were right when, three years in, they told us there was no possibility of her waking up.

I didn’t take that answer as truth then.

Now, lying in the guest bedroom of my enemy, I can’t help wondering where I’d be if I’d just…let her go. If I’d grieved her back then, at thirteen, instead of making the trek to the Underworld and throwing myself at Hades’s mercy. If I’d allowed myself to admit that she might be my mother, but she was barely more than a stranger to me, and the fantasy future I’d painted in my head was exactly that—fantasy. Would I have moved away from Carver City after high school? Maybe met a nice person and fallen in love? Had a couple kids and a white picket fence?

I don’t know. When I try to picture what that life might look like, it’s as flimsy as mist.

Frustrated with myself, I sit up and look around the space that is mine for the next two weeks. The guest room is a replica of Malone’s, though on a smaller scale. The color scheme is all gray and black with those same pops of red I’ve seen in the rest of the penthouse. Even the bathroom follows it: classy gray tile interspersed with a delicate, red-rose tile. Black marble counters. A large, white claw-foot tub. Deep-red towels.

I shower and decide to explore the closet. I’m not sure if she wants me wandering the place naked, but I’d feel better if I had some kind of clothing on while I’m snooping.

I stop short in the doorway, shock rooting my feet to the floor. This is… She… The closet is half full. Does someone else stay here? As far as I—or people at the Underworld—know, Malone is single and doesn’t even have a normal fuck buddy. Certainly, no one close enough to keep clothing at her place.

But when I finally manage to walk the rest of the way into the closet, I find the clothing is a wide variety of lingerie in pink, black, and red. There are some dresses and even a suit, but it’s primarily sexy stuff designed to seduce.

It’s all in my size.

Coincidence. It must be. Except I don’t really believe that, do I? Last night, she said she had everything she needed for the next two weeks. I assumed she meant toys and the like, but Malone is the type to prepare for any eventuality. She planned this, must have planned this for some time, because I recognize several of the pieces as ones designed by Tink and, these days, the waiting period for her stuff right now is measured by months.

I run my fingers over the lines of the suit, feeling conflicted. The pieces are gorgeous and, yes, probably things I would have chosen for myself. The fact that Malone not only knows my size—or at least did the homework to find it out—but my style… I don’t like it.

I’m not exactly surprised she did this if I think about it logically, but there’s nothing logical about the fluttering in my chest. Panic. It must be panic. All I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember is revenge for what Malone did to my mother. She could have taken over the territory without that one-on-one fight. She practically already had at that point. My mother might have been ruthless and occasionally cruel, but she wasn’t a warrior. Malone had to know that, and she didn’t care. She simply wanted to remove an obstacle, and she never once considered who that obstacle might be to other people. Mother, daughter, loved one.

I want to make her pay.

Standing here in this closet full of evidence of how many moves she thinks ahead, I start to shake. Maybe Allecto really was right. I’m never going to be able to pull this off if I’m just reacting. That whole thing about playing checkers while your opponent is playing chess. I can’t take the woman in a fair fight. I’ve had years to examine her legal business in an attempt to find fault to exploit. There is none. On the criminal side of things, her people love and fear her in equal measure. There’s no turning that tide.

It makes me want to shatter something.

I reach for the first piece of lingerie, a black lace bodysuit, intent on shredding it to ribbons, but stop myself before my fingers make contact. This isn’t the best option. I’ve come too far to let my chaotic impulses get the best of me. There’s a way forward; I just have to find it. I’ve never been so close to actually making progress before. I just need to be patient for a little while longer.

In the end, I don’t change out of the nightshirt I slept in. A quick check in the mirror shows that I look a bit rumpled and pretty low-key sexy. That’ll work.

As satisfied as I’m going to be, I head out of the room. The penthouse is eerily silent, or maybe that’s just my nerves threatening to get the best of me. I make a round quickly, walking through room after room to ensure I’m alone. Empty. All of them, empty. Good. There will be time to look in more detail later; I need to take advantage of this opportunity while Malone’s gone. With that in mind, I make my way back to the hallway with my room, the playroom, and Malone’s room. I consider the trio of doors. I highly doubt that she’s left anything useful out where I can find it, but it can’t hurt to check.

I take a step toward her bedroom and that’s when I hear it. A low yowling sound that raises the small hairs on the back of my neck. I turn slowly to find a white long-haired cat standing in the middle of the hallway behind me, its back arched and hair standing on end. It hisses.

It’s a gorgeous creature, but there’s no denying it’ll try to take a bite out of me if I approach. Figures. “She would have a feral fucking cat.”

“Rogue is simply a creature of habit. He doesn’t like change.”

I let out a surprised shriek and spin around. I’m distantly aware of the cat fleeing, but the majority of my attention is all on Malone. She’s wearing a black suit with a white silk shirt that’s just shy of being too sexy for corporate work. And she’s barefoot.

I don’t know why that detail sticks in my brain and derails every thought in my head, but I can’t quite drag my gaze from her pretty red-painted toes. She was barefoot last night, but somehow it didn’t register the same way it does while she’s in business clothing. “You have a cat.”

“Yes.”

“Where is your cat stuff? Cats have stuff, right? Like a litter box or whatever?”

“There’s a specially made cupboard in the laundry room.” Malone snaps her fingers, and I’m obeying without making a decision to move my body, walking to her side. She pivots easily and leads the way into her bedroom. “This way.”

I manage to stay silent despite the questions swirling through me. When she said she had work, I just assumed she’d left the apartment. That was careless of me. If she catches me snooping, I’m not sure what she’ll do. I’m still under Hades’s protection right now, so I doubt she’d toss me out a window, but there are a number of less lethal ways she could punish me. I have to be better than this. To be better than her.

A laptop and phone are sitting on the low table in front of the chairs arranged in a small sitting area. Malone stops in front of the one she was obviously using and turns to me. “I’m sitting in on a meeting with a new team giving their first report. My presence is more to lend additional heft to their manager, so it will be tedious.”

I manage to clamp my mouth shut before I press her for more information. She hasn’t asked a question, and she’s already proven to be a Domme who won’t put up with her submissive edging past the lines. Not that I’m hers, but the label applies for the next thirteen days.

She lifts an elegant brow. “Well? You’re wasting time.” When I still hesitate, Malone sighs. “With your experience, I didn’t think I’d have to spell it out for you.” She motions to the front of her slacks. “Keep me entertained, Aurora.”

Oh.

Oh.

I hit my knees, the soft rug cushioning me, and go for the front of her slacks. Even as I tell myself this is solely for the scene, I know I’m a goddamn liar. I want my mouth on her again, want to taste her, want to feel her come all over my face. I unfasten her pants and ease them down her legs, taking a little longer than strictly necessary. She’s built lean, but Malone is strong. Her legs show the same strength as her arms, muscle readily apparent with each move she makes. She steps out of the pants and waits while I fold them neatly before she sinks onto the chair and casually throws a leg over one of the arms. “Be quiet.”

“Yes, Mistress.” I move to kneel in the space she created for me. I should…

But there’s no room for should, not when she’s so pretty and pink and right there waiting for me. I dip my head down and kiss one inner thigh and then the other, easing my way up her legs. Malone makes an impatient noise but doesn’t stop me. Instead, I hear her picking up her phone.

When she speaks, it’s coldly professional. “Yes, I’m here. Bring on the team and do what you need to do. You’re taking lead on this one, Marshall.”

I slide my hands up her hips, pushing her shirt higher. She reaches down without looking and stops me before it reaches much past her navel. A severe look tells me that this is all the territory I have to work with. I bite down on the disappointment I have no business feeling. Why should I be annoyed that I don’t get access to her breasts when her pussy is right here and waiting?

Maybe I’m just annoyed at everything Malone does.

Or, more accurately, I’m annoyed at myself for wanting her despite everything she’s done. And I do want her. I’m honest enough with myself to admit that. I dip down and kiss her pussy, doing what I always do—channeling my frustration and anger into lust. It’s so much easier to manage this way, to smile and orgasm and cry out the emotions I’m not comfortable showing to the world. When I’m in a scene, no one expects me to display perfect control. The carefully orchestrated shattering is the point.

I want Malone to shatter. I want to be the one to cause it.

She tastes exactly like I remember, a truth that should have been blurred by time and many partners, but it’s there all the same. Every moment of that night is seared into my memory. I’m not the same person I was then, but it doesn’t change the way one lick takes me back.

That night I was sure she saw into the very heart of me. Saw all my scars and trauma. Saw my desires. Saw everything. She pulled it out piece by piece, breaking me down until I was an exposed nerve for her to strum at her leisure.

I could have survived that. Other Dominants have brought me close to that point over the years, though no one quite so skillfully. No, it was how she held me afterward that fucked with my head. It’s the only time in nearly ten years of knowing her that she wasn’t icy and distant. She felt warm and soft and all too human.

She felt like mine.

I shove the memory away and focus on the task at hand. Malone says something about annual review reports, and her voice isn’t even breathy. She could be sitting at a desk in the middle of a crowded office, rather than in her bedroom with my mouth on her pussy. I look up at her and push two fingers into her. She doesn’t bother to so much as glance at me. She simply reaches down, grabs a fistful of my hair, and guides me back to her clit.

What a magnificent bitch.

As irritating as I find her control, it feels like she threw a gauntlet at my feet that I’m only too happy to pick up. I toy with her clit as I carefully explore her with my fingers, looking for her G-spot. It doesn’t take long to find it, and her legs go tense as I stroke my fingertips against it.

Got you. I keep up that motion as I focus on her clit. There may be time for teasing and playing later, but I’m on a mission right now. I want her to come and crack that perfect iciness she presents to the world. I want her hot and fiery and on the edge of control. I want to be the one to cause it.

Her fingers tense in my hair, so I keep doing that motion with my tongue, teasing her higher and higher. I look up her body to find her cheeks have gone pink and her lips are parted. She’s not making a single sound, but the evidence of how close she is to orgasm is written in her expression, in her legs tensing on either side of my face, on her harsh grip in my hair.

She moves the phone away from her face and hits the mute button. “Stop playing around and make me come.”

It’s so tempting to reach between my thighs with my free hand, but I already know she won’t grant permission. She might even stop me from making her come, which is something I desperately want to avoid. I suck her clit into my mouth and work her with my tongue, and she moans a little and orgasms hard, clamping around my fingers.

Malone’s grip in my hair softens, and she trails her fingers down my temple. Her expression isn’t exactly warm, but it’s not as distant as normal. “Don’t stop. This call will go on a while yet.”

I lick my lips, tasting her there. “Yes, Mistress.”