“Come,” Zagreus said, his voice a low command that curled around my spine like smoke. Not harsh, but not soft either. Like there was no question I’d obey.
My legs moved before I could tell them not to.
What was wrong with me? Why wasn’t I fighting this?
Because deep down, in some dark, twisted place I didn't want to admit even existed, I liked the way he made me feel. Small. Seen. Dangerous. Desired. Protected.
My eyes widened.
Desired? Seen?
For fuck’s sake, Celestine.He killed Adrian. Kidnapped you. Forced you into a marriage you didn’t want.
Something’s wrong with my head. Gods, wasn’t that terrifying?
I stumbled after him, my heels clicked on the floor, but I barely heard them over the pounding in my chest.
A long, dark central table dominated the room, surrounded by men. Men who didn’t look like politicians or businessmen. They looked like gods in exile. Ruthless, magnetic, and impossible to ignore. Their suits were tailored like Zagreus with sharp expressions and calculations in their eyes. There were women, too. I didn’t know if I should be happy or worried for them.
I swallowed hard, already wanting to run back. Just my luck, it was already locked.
As Zagreus pulled me with him, the dim light flickered across every angle. The curtains were open, revealing a sky littered with stars. It should’ve been beautiful.
But all I felt was dread.
Cards flicked across the table. A burst of curses, and someone said something in Russian before everything stilled. Everything stopped. Chairs shifted and eyes turned. And silence swallowed my pounding heart.
I froze and took a half-step back, hiding behind Zagreus like a child. His body blocked them, but I could still feel the gravity of the stares dissecting me.
I didn’t belong here.
My whole body melted as Zagreus placed his hand behind him, on my thigh, just above the slit of my dress, and gave it a grounding squeeze, burning me, calming me, and claiming me in the same breath.
I looked up at the side of his face.
The scar. The brutal edge of his jaw. The way he stood tall and composed, as if nothing in this room could ever harm him, or me, not while he was breathing.
“So, the prodigal son arrives. Or are you here for the wine, Vitale?”
The voice came from the far end of the table. I snuck a glance at the man who leaned back in his chair, half-shrouded in the gold-tinted dark. He wore an ivory suit with the confidence of someone who’d killed in it before. His lips curved intosomething too cruel to be a smile. He held his glass with lazy elegance, as if he were toying with Zagreus.
My personal hell didn’t pause. His hand found mine, and he pulled me forward.
He gave the man a nod and pulled out a chair.
“The wine bores me, Bianchi. But I hear your wife’s still living with her parents? I hope the nights aren’t… lonely.”
The one sitting next to the man called Bianchi chuckled under his breath. Bianchi glared at him but then turned to Zagreus and raised his brows.
Zagreus pulled me with him and moved to the nearest empty chair. He sat down, long legs folding, and he looked up at me. His eyes burned beneath his long lashes.
“Sit.”
Swallowing the knot, I lowered myself onto the velvet chair beside him. The moment I sat, he reached for the chair arm and dragged it closer to him. The legs screeched faintly across the floor, and before I could process what was happening, his hand slid beneath the slit of my dress and landed on my thigh.
Heat surged as his fingers flexed on my skin as if I was his anchor… his favourite possession.
My attention wavered when someone snickered from my left.
