Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“Revenge. His head on a platter, literal or otherwise.” He doesn’t smile, doesn’t do anything to lessen the offer. “If you want him chained in a basement for four years while I personally deliver every single injury that he dealt out to you, I can do that, too.”
I can’t think. Can’t do anything but stare. “You’re drunk. That’s the only explanation for you spitting this madness at me.”
“No, I’m not. I’m simply offering you something that even Hades won’t.”
Surely he can’t know I asked Hades for more than sanctuary five years ago. I begged and pleaded and wept at his feet, desperate for him to remove the threat of Peter permanently. I know better now. Hades doesn’t act directly against any of the territory leaders. It’s the only way he’s able to keep his precious neutral ground. I can respect that now, but I still can’t forgive him for denying me the very thing Hook is offering now. There’s only one question that remains; the most important one. “Why?”
“Because it’s what we both want.” He doesn’t move, doesn’t even appear to breathe. “But I require your cooperation to make it happen.”
Here it is, the trap I sensed but couldn’t see. He offers me the one outcome I want more than anything in the world as bait and slips a shackle around my ankle at the same time. “No.”
“You may not have a choice.”
“Wrong. I always have a choice.”
Hook shrugs. He’s not as big as Gaeton, but his frame is roped with muscle. “He might hesitate to cross Hades, but you’re about to lose Hades’s protection. He’ll come for you. You know he will.”
He’s right. I hate that he’s right. Peter will come for me, if not because I’m a toy that was taken from him before he finished with it, then because I tried to take away his new toy. That, he’ll never forgive, and he certainly won’t forget.
It wasn’t something I was thinking about when I heard about the new girl. All I could focus on was that I knew exactly what she was going through, exactly how scared she must be to realize her Prince Charming was far more terrifying than anything she left behind. In those dark years, I hadn’t allowed myself to pray, but if I had, I would have prayed for someone to get me out. So I tried to do that, to save her, to be the person my younger self needed.
I should have known better. She’s not me. Or, more accurately, she’s not me now. She’s me five, six, eight years ago, when I attacked everyone who came close, because to do anything else was to welcome his suspicion and jealousy. To invite more pain.
Still, I can’t quite stop blaming myself for her presence in his life. If I hadn’t left, Peter wouldn’t have needed to fill my place. She’d still be free.
I shake my head as Hook’s words penetrate. “You can’t honestly think he’s going to come after me.”
He doesn’t blink. “I know he will.”
A shiver of fear works its way down my spine. I haven’t felt true terror in so long, but I recognize it intimately. “You show up here and offer me his head on a platter … Why?”
“Putting Peter six feet under benefits both of us.”
I flinch at his name. Foolish to let something as simple as a name, five little letters, take on this kind of importance, but I can’t shake the feeling that speaking his name will summon the man himself. It’s everything I can do not to look over my shoulder.
Jameson—Hook—might be here under the guise of offering me help, but I know better than to expect it to come without strings attached. No one in our world offers something for nothing. Power, submission, sex; tit for tat. The form of repayment doesn’t matter, only that repayment is expected.
I try very hard to keep the belligerent tilt to my head, to not let him see how spooked I am by the topic of our conversation, by the threat hanging over my head. “You know, if you want to fuck me this bad, there are easier ways to go about it.”
He booms out a laugh and, despite myself, the joyful sound chases away some of the chill in my bones. He’s always been able to do that, to turn on the charm and exude joy like it’s Christmas morning or some shit, rather than whatever bleak reality we currently occupy. It’s one of the reasons I distrusted him so intensely before—why I distrust him now; no one can survive Peter’s court with that kind of joy in their heart. It’s impossible.
He lets his laugh trail off and grins at me. “I don’t want to fuck you, Tink.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Yes, I do,” he agrees easily. His grin never wavers. “Let me clarify; I don’t just want to fuck you.”