His lips brushed so close I could almost taste the danger. I fought the urge to lean into him, a primal instinct clawing at me. He barely touched me, but already I was burning alive beneath his scrutiny.
“You will do this,” he said with that low, commanding tone that stirred something deep inside me—something thrilling and terrifying all at once.
“Or what?” I shot back, fire in my veins.
His expression shifted just slightly, an amused glint dancing in his eyes as if he found my defiance amusing rather than threatening.
“Since your former friend didn’t seem to get the message,” he drawled slowly, “we need to be clear.”
The air thickened with tension as he leaned closer, his voice dropping into a whisper that curled around me like smoke—deadly and seductive. “You’re my wife. Mine.” Each word was like a brand on my skin. “And you will show up for me tomorrow. Exactly when I say.” He paused for effect, letting it sink in. “Wearing what I tell you.”
My breath caught in my throat as heat pooled low in my belly against my will. This wasn’t just about obedience; it felt debauched and exhilarating all at once—this twisted game we played where submission danced with desire.
“I won’t wear that jersey,” I shot back defiantly even as a part of me shivered at the thought of what it meant.
He chuckled softly, darkly—the kind of sound that sent chills racing down my spine. “You think you have a choice?”
I swallowed hard as he stepped even closer, our bodies nearly touching now—a dangerous proximity that made every nerve sing and ache with awareness.
“You’re wrong if you think this is a negotiation.” The corners of his mouth curled into a wicked smile that promised retribution if I dared defy him again.
Hades didn’t care about boundaries; he reveled in dismantling them piece by piece while I stood here—caught between wanting to fight and wanting to succumb to the chaos he created within me.
Chapter 16
Hades
I woke before the sun, the shadows still stretched long across the penthouse like they belonged to me. The silence was thick—too thick—and it pressed against my chest like a warning. I didn’t bother turning on the lights. I moved through the dark, familiar with every inch of this space I’d built to be mine. Except now, it wasn’t just mine.
She was in it.
And the space she didn’t fill was louder than her presence.
I stepped into the shower and cranked the handle to cold. Ice hit my skin like punishment. Good. I welcomed the sting. I needed it. Not to wake up—but to stay sharp. Pain had a way of slicing through distraction, and I wasn’t in the mood to carry weakness into the rink.
Afterward, I tossed some toast and a boiled egg on the counter. I didn’t touch them. It wasn’t fuel I needed. It was focus. And the only thing on my mind was the hollow imprint she left behind in my bed.
Where was she this morning? She hadn’t shown her face. No sound. No movement. Not even defiance.
It should’ve pleased me. Instead, it clawed under my ribs like something feral.
By the time I hit the locker room, I was wound tight.
The familiar scent hit first—sweat, liniment, stale adrenaline. Most found it nauseating. For me? It was home. This was the one place I could command without contest.
Gideon was already there, leaning against his stall like he owned the building. “Ready for another round with the ice princess?” he drawled, flashing that smug, too-white smile.
I didn’t bite. I didn’t even look at him. I headed straight for my gear, shedding layers of thought like armor. I needed the numbness of routine.
Jafar sat near the board, adjusting his skates with the same quiet calculation that made him lethal. The younger guys were loud, too loud—hyped by the game, the media, the murmurs.
“Sinclair’s married now?” one of them whispered like I wasn’t in the damn room. “Didn’t peg him for the ‘wife guy.’”
Another laughed. “Yeah, hope she knows she married the villain.”
My grip tightened on the tape. My blade wasn’t even halfway done, but I paused. Just for a second. Let the rage simmer beneath the surface—hot, sharp, ready to be used.
I didn’t look up. Didn’t speak. I just kept winding the tape, tighter and tighter, like I could strangle the commentary out of the air.
