Chapter Twenty-Seven

"Do you normally tell stories in such an… intimate fashion?"

Nick rubs a palm over my stomach, chuckling as he presses kisses down my neck. "No. I just really wanted to taste you."

Heat flares in my chest, climbing higher before it spreads to my cheeks.

"You know," I start, attempting to steal his attention from his continuous adoration of my body. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't complain, but between coming up with a game plan and the fact that having another orgasm might indeed kill me, I want Nick focused on something else. "You told me something similar about Circe, and she wasn't half as bad as you made her out to be. "

Nick's head whips up at that, eyes narrowing. "Nyx makes Circe look like a fucking garden fairy."

"But-"

"No ‘buts', Rhi. I know you think I'm overprotective, and I don't care. I'm not exaggerating. She's thousands of years older than Circe, and was born from literal Chaos. Circe's moral compass might not have a true North, but those two words don't even exist when it comes to Nyx. She believes in nothing except the darkness she was born from and commands."

I push myself up on my elbows. "So, you're saying we don't stand a chance?"

Nick lets out a weary sigh and flops down, resting his head on an onyx silk pillow. "If you and I were anyone else, I'd definitely say no, we don't stand a chance. But," he blows out a breath, fixing his intense eyes on me, "it's us. And maybe it's the post-sex high, or the fact that you told me you loved me, but I really believe that if anyone has a snowball's chance in Hell to take on Nyx and win, it's me and you."

You and I.

Me and you.

A honeyed warmth trickles throughout my body. His resolute conviction that together, he and I can do anything, only magnifies the soul-crushing love I feel for him.

I raise a brow, grinning. "A snowball's chance in Hell, huh? Is it really all fire and brimstone?"

Nick rolls his eyes, but grins back. "No, though I've never actually been there." The grin fades from his lips as the implication weighs heavily in the space between us.

Because he needs to die, first.

I refuse to let that happen.

Nick must understand my solemn expression, because he says in a quiet voice, "Come here."

I rest my head on his chest and drape my arm over his midsection. The steady, strong beat of his heart is my personal lullaby, and the ever-evasive slumber finally pulls me under.

A few days later, Nick's request for a meeting with Hades, God of the Underworld, or the "Unseen One," as Nick strangely calls him, is accepted.

We informed the girl gang of our plans, and that afternoon, we skipped our last classes of the day and made our way back to New York City, of all places.

"Is it just me, or do all the nefarious villains establish residence in the Big Apple?" I ask as Nick smoothly pulls his Aston Martin in front of yet another luxury apartment building, this one located on Central Park West.

Nick's mouth twists as he shifts the gear in park. "What makes you say that?"

"Let's see." I start ticking reasons off my fingers. "Hades is a notorious villain in every pop culture film, almost all the Marvel superheroes live in New York to fight villains here , and," I gesture to him, "you are the heir apparent to Hell, wearing a black on black Dior suit. If that doesn't scream villain, I'm not sure what does."

Nick regards me with a hint of humor in his gaze, but the sultry lilt to his tone has me clenching my thighs. "You consider me a villain?"

My throat suddenly feels like I've swallowed sand. "Aren't you?"

Nick's stare is smoldering, the heat within them threatening to burn the dress right from my body.

Ever since I'd confessed my love for him Sunday night, and we had sex not once, not twice, but five times in the same evening, not including the way he worked me with his tongue and fingers while he told me about Nyx, my restraint around him is non-existent. It feels like I'm somehow tethered to him, not just in body, but in mind and spirit too. If I'm being honest with myself, it's always felt that way with him - I just chose to ignore it, initially. I thought it couldn't possibly last. After all, doesn't everyone feel that way about their first love?

Your first and your only. In this life and the next.

Whatever simmers between us is binding and constricting, an all-encompassing sensation that wherever he goes, I will follow.

Even in death.

Nick doesn't move any closer, though his searing gaze heats the space between us. "Only for you." His voice is heavy. Wanting. Its deep timbre rockets through my blood and pulses low in my core. Now he shifts, closing the mere inches between our bodies. I can't resist sliding my finger beneath the smooth lapel of his suit jacket. "I would burn this world to ashes if it meant protecting you, and if that makes me a villain, so be it."

Gods. Would it be bad form if I straddled him right here, valet attendant and meeting with the God of the Underworld be damned? Surely, someone as notoriously hypersexual as Hades would understand…

My door opens, halting my thoughts, and a white gloved attendant extends his hand. I'm gracefully aided from the car, and I take in with wide eyes the two limestone towers looming above me. The one in the foreground is considerably shorter than its sibling, which towers at least fifty stories tall behind it. Two potted spruces flank the entrance, with a gray awning jutting out to cover the sidewalk.

Nick settles beside me and places his palm at the small of my back, guiding me through the building's glass double doors. Like Nick's building, this lobby is similarly made of marble and lacquered walls, but four marble pillars stand sentry before the lobby desk. The security guard barely acknowledges Nick with a tilt of his head, his finger pressed to his ear as he listens to a device within it. We step into a pair of elevator doors and, surprise, surprise, head to the penthouse.

Note to self: Come back as a rich billionaire in my next life.

The elevator doors silently glide open, and Nick and I step into an expansive space that, at first glance, appears to be one large open floor. Darkness shrouds the entire room is, the only light offered from a massive fireplace on the eastern wall and several sconces spread throughout the room. A red and gold upholstered settee sits opposite the fire, flanked by two similarly decorated arm chairs. Two large black pillars separate this section of the room from the rest of the penthouse.

My heels clack against a black and white tiled floor, structured similarly to a chessboard, but the rest of the room is covered by Persian rugs ranging from a mosaic of colors such as blue, red and gold, and red, purple and black.

There's still no sign of Hades as we step further into the space, so I continue to assess my surroundings. A 3-D mural of the Gods of Olympus decorates the wall opposite Nick and I, with a long onyx table resting in front of it. The surface of the table itself is sparse, with only a bottle of wine and the lingering remnants of red wine in a single wine glass.

"Where is he?" I whisper to Nick. Even though it appears we are the only two occupying the space, I have an unsettling inkling something lies in wait within the shadows of these walls.

"He's here," Nick mutters, eyes scanning the room cautiously. "This is part of his theatrics."

"I'd never resort to simple parlor tricks in your presence, Nicholas." A man manifests behind the onyx table, wine glass in hand and filled to the brim. He takes a sip, a sinister smile forming beneath the lip of the glass. The Scylla lifts its heads, preparing itself to strike if need be, but otherwise remains silent.

"Come closer so I can have a look at her."

Nick clenches his jaw, but wraps a possessive arm around my waist and urges us forward. Hades' features sharpen as we draw closer, and gods, is he stunning. His tall frame cuts a fine silhouette in his black suit, accentuating his lean but muscular build. His ink-like hair is thick and tousled, falling in loose waves around his face. A neatly trimmed anchor beard lines a chiseled jaw and full upper lip. His pale skin is a stark contrast to a pair of dangerous eyes as black as his hair.

It's not only Hades' appearance that gives him a lethal edge, it's the raw, unfiltered power emanating from the man standing before me. The only time I'd felt something similar is when Nick barged into my room demanding to know of the necklace's whereabouts. But where Nick's power was fire and wrath and brimstone, Hades' power is like shards of ice pressed against my ribcage.

Nick and I come to a halt, and I resist the urge to rub my clammy palms against my red silk dress. It's mostly modest by my standards, but with a generous v-cut in the front, giving it a seductive quality. I left my hair loose because, for some reason, my long hair feels like an extra barrier of protection .

Hades grants himself an indolent perusal of my body, and Nick's grip tightens as he lets out a low warning growl. Hades pays him no mind, but when his depthless black eyes settle on mine, he sucks in a sharp breath.

"Scylla."

"Rhi," I correct.

He blinks. "Of course. Rhiannon. It's an absolute pleasure to meet you."

"You, as well."

"Drink?" Hades asks me only, summoning an additional glass from thin air.

I politely decline, and Hades flashes me a knowing grin. "Ah, so Nicholas has prepared you."

Indeed, he did. Nick warned not to accept anything from Hades, as seemingly innocuous as it might be. Accepting food, drink, or otherwise from the God of the Underworld ties one to him inexplicably. Persephone may be his wife and Queen, but a single bite of a pomegranate was her damnation according to myth.

"Perhaps we can get to the point of our meeting," Nick says impatiently.

"Not without the presence of my wife," Hades says darkly. "

"Of course." Nick's honeyed tone masks the mockery beneath. "Where is your beautiful wife?"

The empty glass shatters beneath Hades' hand, but no blood flows. "Careful. You aren't King yet."

"Then stop provoking me."

"I'm doing nothing of the sort."

"You're staring at her. She's mine. "

Oh, for fuck's sake. I need to put an end to this pissing contest before either Nick gets us thrown out or Hades smites us.

I clear my throat, drawing the attention of both men. "Where do you sleep?"

The question is random, but it was the first thing that came to mind upon glancing about the large singular room and seeing there was no bed.

Hades gives me a blank stare.

"There's no bed in here," I clarify. "Where do you sleep?"

His mouth takes on a malicious slant. "If you want an invitation to my bedchamber, love, you need only ask."

Nick bares his teeth, his monstrous fangs visible.

"That's not why I asked," I say quickly.

"No? I assure you, you'd have no complaints. I know my Persephone would enjoy you as much as I would. "

My mouth parts as heat floods my cheeks. I've never been propositioned by a couple before and oddly, it sounds…enticing?

"I don't share," Nick says firmly.

"Nonsense, Nicholas. There's room for you. Although I abhor the thought of you anywhere near Persephone, I could never deny my Queen anything she asked." Hades sips his wine, gaze flitting between Nick and I before settling on Nick. "What about you? Could you deny her anything she asked?" He juts his chin towards me.

Nick takes a moment to meet my eyes, and the answer is clear.

"No," Hades says with a cutting smirk. "I don't think you could."

"You never answered my question." I need to pull Hades away from his suggestion of a…foursome? How would that even work? "Where do you sleep?"

Hades shrugs. "Maybe I don't."

"Then where do you fuck?" Nick says.

"Wherever we want," a musical voice chimes from behind us.

I catch the adoration in Hades' eyes and the salacious tilt of his mouth before Nick and I turn to greet the owner of the voice.

A breathtaking woman stands at the entrance to the elevator, hair woven from the sun itself sweeping in an even layer to her waist. Large sparkling eyes, one a deep violet and the other a sharp jade, stare back at Nick and I, equal parts curious and threatening. Her soft lavender dress hugs her voluptuous curves so nothing is left to the imagination. Power washes over me, temperate in its signature but just as vicious as either Nick's or Hades'. At her feet, a massive, three-headed beast bares three sets of sharp teeth.

"My Queen is home at last," Hades' voice, softer now, sounds out behind us. "Nicholas and Rhiannon, I'd like you to meet-"

"Persephone," she finishes for him, and then my breath is stolen from my lungs as a thick, thorned vine wraps itself around my throat.