thirteen

Poppy

The river had scared her. The darkness, the water's smell, Hades' words…all of it was unsettling, to say the least.

But most of all, what had scared her was he himself. The way he acted, the way he spoke about himself…There was a carelessness, a self-loathing in his manner that frightened her. She had focused on his hands as they had clutched the oars, those long, tapered fingers, those wrists threaded with ropy veins, those arms bulging with muscle beneath his sculpted jacket. She could not look at his face.

Something in his eyes disturbed her, and not only because they were too cold and too blue. Too intense, too beautiful.

But no, those were not the only reasons she could not stand to look at him: Something inside her needed to reach out a hand and push those black locks away from his forehead, to run her fingers down those sharp cheekbones, to brush her lips against…

She stopped the thought, her cheeks flushing.

Sin. That was it, sin.

Sin was the reason she was afraid of him.

He made her sin—or would, soon enough. And she had sinned enough for ten lifetimes already.

Hades led her to a room as dark as the lake's cave, covered in silks and carpets. In the middle stood a huge bed, raised on a pedestal as if it were an altar. Poppy felt the blood drain from her face

This is no time to faint.

The only thing that saved her was the compulsion to follow and obey. If it wasn't for that, she would have stood frozen on the spot, or have fainted dead away. But as it was, she meekly followed Hades into the room, feeling very much like a lamb being led to slaughter.

Is he going to touch me?

And am I going to let him?

Am I going to be able to fight him?

She could hardly recognize herself. Her own reactions—or rather, the lack thereof—made little sense to her, but it was as if a force separate from herself controlled her.

Almost as if…

As if her brother was there, ordering her to obey.

And she did obey. In her fear and shock, it was all she could do. It was her default reaction.

Fear and obedience. They went hand in hand.

In Dante's room, in the hot bath he had ordered for her aching legs, and afterwards, talking to his beautiful dancer friend, Rania, she had almost felt like herself. She had made jokes, watching Dante's eyes sparkle with intelligence and laughter, she had spoken out her opinions to Rania and she had not been afraid or restrained.

But now…It was all gone.

She was gone.

She did not know where she had disappeared to; all she knew was that her own self appeared to have vanished. And in its place, was an obedient pet.

She glanced at Hades—Alexei. He was all frustration and cheekbones.

Dammit.

Don't swear.

"Right," Hades said, barely sparing her a glance as he headed towards the enormous, marble mantelpiece. An orange-red fire was roaring under it, and Hades made a point of bending his tall frame to stir it theatrically.

He spoke without turning to face her. And this was what he said:

"Seduce me, if you please."

Poppy couldn't breathe; her chest constricted inwards, the wrong way. Speaking was out of the question, but it now seemed as if existing was equally in question.

"Well?" Hades' voice was cold, relentless. He crossed his arms, a sneer on his mouth. "Get on with it."

Poppy opened her mouth to reply, but nothing happened.

She tried to take a step backwards and her knees nearly buckled.

Right. She could not escape, it seemed.

She tried to smooth down her dress, Rania's dress actually, to salvage what she could of her dignity, but her hands were shaking so badly they wouldn't obey her. It was useless.

"Stop. Wait."

A hand was on hers, staying the frantic movement of her fingers.

His hand.

His hand on hers. His skin felt smooth and cool against hers, and his fingers were so long they engulfed her hand completely. Her shaking still wouldn't stop.

"Wait, no," he said again. "Don't be so afraid."

"You said you didn't like to be touched," her voice said.

Oh, look at that. She could speak again; who knew?

"Trust me," Hades replied, his hand still on hers, his skin suddenly burning hot, "I'm suffering enough just looking at you. I have no wish to expire."

His touch momentarily forgotten, she looked up at him. His eyes were on hers, but they were no longer dark, bottomless pools. Now they were sparkling, full of light, their blue shining like water. She got momentarily dizzy, thinking that he was a different man.

"I won't kill you," she breathed.

"Will you not?" Hades' voice blew across the soft hairs that had escaped her braid and were gathered behind her ear. "Not intentionally, I grant you. Then again, you seem to hate me so much…"

"I don't care enough to hate you," Poppy said, and immediately felt her face grow hot.

She heard his sharp inhale and saw his nostrils flare.

This is why you had decided to stop talking, she thought ruefully. You've gone and done it now. You have made him angry. As angry as your bro—

"I don't," she added quickly, before the fear for Hades and her brother blended into one and incapacitated her completely again. "I mean, sometimes I do. Maybe."

Hades let her go and she watched him walk away, his eyes tightly shut as if against pain.

"Oh, I see," he murmured. "You actually want me to die. Do you want me to die? Because you are killing me right now."

You are doing the same, she thought.

But her courage—or her stupidity—seemed to have deserted her once again, and she didn't say it. Hades went to the side table and poured himself a glass of golden liquid, which he then proceeded to down in one gulp.

"Seduce me," he said again, his back to her. "And let's get it over with. Look, this is torture. I'll make you a new wager: if you seduce me, I will let you leave."

She perked up at that.

"You will?"

He nodded. "Why not? It shall truly be a marvel if you succeed. No one has ever managed it before."

"Wait, what?"

"Do I look like the type of man who is seduced by a woman?"

He lifted an eyebrow and his eyes found her again, but they were back to being closed off, cold. His body was still angled away from hers, as if he was protecting his chest in battle. The place where his heart was supposed to reside—supposing he even had one—was hidden from her.

Which was absurd. Nothing, not even his supposed heart, had ever been in danger from her. Poppy licked her dry lips. The room suddenly felt empty instead of luxurious, too cold and impersonal instead of opulent.

"I should think your lordship would be the one to do the seducing," she said, shaking. But still, she said it.

"You'll refuse me," he replied simply. "I know already how it will go, were I to try to seduce you. Or, as you said, to care enough to try."

Oh, that had hurt him, had it? Good.

"I don't think so," she said simply, looking down. Yes, the floor; that's it. Look at the floor. "I do not know how to…refuse."

"I beg your pardon."

It was not uttered as a question. In fact, it was said in such an aggressive, ice-dripping way, that she had to abandon the floor and look up at him.

And what she saw was a feral creature.

Hades looked so angry his hair was starting to stand on end. At the same time, he was so completely immobile, as if he were frozen to the spot. His entire body turned to her, his hair flying back as he moved so quickly, but then he stopped. Stopped moving, stopped talking. Stopped breathing.

He appeared to be waiting for her to speak.

"I do not know how to refuse," Poppy repeated, as calmly as she could under the circumstances. "When someone orders me to do something, or asks me, I have been taught to…I have been conditioned to obey. I do not know how to…"

"Stop right there." Hades took two strides and reached her. His face came inches from her nose as he bent down to peer into her eyes. "You are conditioned?"

"I do not know how else to describe it."

"Now look here," his hand hovered over her shoulder, but he seemed to think better of it, and he dropped it to his side without touching her. "This is not the first time I'm meeting you, all right? Remember, I have been the recipient of your razor-sharp wit on more than one occasion. Do not presume to tell me that this brain does not match a heart as fierce."

Poppy could not look away. She wanted to, but she couldn't.

She was studying the curve of his lips, the sharpness of his jaw, the ridiculously long eyelashes at the ends of those hooded, cold eyes.

"If I ever knew how to resist," she said, "I have forgotten."

"Who-who taught you—" He inhaled sharply. "Who made you like this?"

"Your lordship asks that in a tone that implies that it was a wrong done to me."

"It was!" A little spit came out of the corner of his mouth, so violently did the words leave his lips. He licked it, swallowed. She watched, fascinated.

"My father, although a man of God, had been far too lenient with me," Poppy said, half in a daze, watching his lips. "When he died, my brother took my education in hand and…and he discovered that I lacked in discipline."

"Your brother then," Hades appeared to be struggling with some fierce emotion. His teeth were so on edge he was biting his lips, and his words came out as a hiss. "What the hell did he do to you?"

"He just disciplined me," she repeated. "He helped me learn…He taught me. For the good of my eternal soul. I had to kneel on rice, and do a few days of fasting, but I did learn humility and obedience, which are priceless, so it was a fair exchange. I am so grateful that he took the time to…"

There, she had to pause.

Because Hades, uttering a guttural growl and a heart-wrenching "God help me!", had sunk to his knees in front of her. His legs literally folded under him, until he was prostrated on the floor before her.

He made no attempt to rise.

"Your brother," he kept repeating.

Poppy had to look away; the sight was too much even for her. Something hot and sad burned behind her eyes, but she couldn't explain it, so she ignored it, as she usually did. Her jaw worked with the effort to keep the tears in.

"All right," Hades said, bracing one hand on the floor to pick himself up. "All right."

His hand shook.

It seemed as if it took him a lot of effort to peel himself off the ground, and when he stood, it was on swaying, unsteady legs. He uttered a few oaths and turned his head away from hers, raking his hands down his long, black hair. His fingers were still shaking.

He turned towards the fireplace and busied himself with pulling his hair into a queue at the back of his head. Poppy watched his long, lean fingers tying the ribbon. That hair looked like a black river, it was so sleek and wavy. She wanted to run her fingers through it, she wanted to be the one to tie that velvet ribbon, and then to bury her…

"It doesn't matter," Hades said in a harsh, business-like voice, turning abruptly around.

It was the first time that she saw his face free of that waterfall of hair, and those cheekbones exposed were surely a weapon. Must be illegal, to say the least.

"I mean, it does," he spat, "but it shall have to wait until I find the bastard and murder him twice over."

"Wh—what?"

"Until then," Hades continued, ignoring her terrified question, "we are here, now, in this room." God, but his jaw was a piece of art.

"You will seduce me, as you said," Poppy said, "and I shall…"

"Forget seducing," Hades cut her off. "We have more important business to attend to. Listen, Persephone," he dropped his voice to a lower, if not much gentler tone, and dropped his eyes too, so that they were on the same level as hers, "you need to learn how to refuse. It is of the utmost importance, do you understand? You must resist, refuse and fight anything you do not want. Anything, whether it is a gentleman's attention, a kidnapping attempt, or someone starving you half to death."

"Kidnapping? Like what you did?"

That hand raked through his hair again. His queue came apart, his hair falling down his shoulders like liquid ink.

He swore colorfully.

Don't swear.

Shut up.

"Yes, exactly like what I did," he said. "Do you know that you didn't once fight me or my men? You barely spoke one word, Wyatt! It was the most frustrating, most horrible thing. It near scared the life out of me. Even I, monster that I am, had expected some kind of resistance, some sort of…But with you, nothing. It was as if you weren't there, it was…I nearly lost my mind, Persephone. What is wrong with her, I thought, that she will not fight?"

‘What is wrong with her?'

His words cut her as if with a knife.

"I have learned not to," she murmured, stubbornly.

"I know that now."

Hades' voice was uncharacteristically soft as he went down on his knee again. Why did he keep doing that? It was so strange; it made her feel as if she were floating. He lifted his eyes to hers, and there was genuine emotion in them for the first time.

And the emotion was pure, unadulterated fear.

"I know," he repeated. A muscle ticked in his jaw. "Promise me now that you will do your best to unlearn that, and to learn to fight. To defend yourself."

"Oh," she nodded. She knew all about learning. "I shall learn whatever you wish. I am good at that. Do you have a chapel in the Underworld?"

"What?" He looked affronted at the question—possibly even insulted.

"Or shall you make me kneel on the rice in this chamber?"

Hades' face went white so abruptly, she bent down to catch him, for she was sure he was about to faint. But he didn't. He swallowed once, twice, then shook his head, as if to clear it.

"No, listen, there will be no rice, all right?"

He climbed to his feet again, sighing shakily.

"I will simply teach you, like this. Tell me to stop whenever you feel tired, or uncomfortable, or…when you are no longer enjoying yourself."

Enjoying myself?

She would laugh if she were not so confused right now. She had no idea how to interpret what was happening. Hades' behavior made absolutely no sense, as did his words.

Enjoying herself indeed.

Hell might just as well freeze over.