Page 31 of Bride of Death (Netherworld Fae #1)

Sera

This side of the palace feels different. Colder. More remote. Deadly .

And not just because of the giant wolf creature following me down the dimly lit corridor.

I glance back at the beast again and note the way their heads are all pointed in different angles as they take in every inch of the hallway.

Ossa, Mort, and Howl .

Each one of them has a collar around their respective necks, just like a dog would, but they’re all joined in the same body.

It’s unnerving.

But also kind of amazing.

Who controls the legs? I wonder as Ossa stares down a column lined with more skulls. They’re like ancient pillars but made of bones. I want to believe it’s just decoration. However, I fear they’re actual remains.

These decorations didn’t exist near my previous accommodations in the palace. Although, the dark colors and general gothic atmosphere did.

Reaper is the one who taught me that term, saying how Gothic architecture is a favorite of his.

I didn’t really understand it until he started showing me pictures on a screen of other building types. He seemed to take great pleasure in teaching me and Alina things about the “real human world.”

The more I learned, the more I wondered what it would be like to visit.

I still wonder that today but don’t dare to hope that I’ll ever be permitted to see it.

No, my fate as the Bride of Death is pretty much sealed now.

A fact that seems quite clear to me as I once again look back at?—

“Oof,” I mutter as I walk into a wall.

Er, not a wall.

Maliki .

Shaking my head, I slowly face forward once more and find him staring down at me in amusement.

Which is when I realize he caught my hip with one hand to keep me from falling when I ran into him.

And he hasn’t let go.

If anything, he pulls me closer. “You all right?” he asks, his voice soft, his lips slightly curled. “Or are you still freaking out?”

“I’m not freaking out,” I counter, scowling. “I’m fine.”

“Hmm,” he hums. “Yes, you are. More than fine, actually.” He winks and releases me, leaving me to gape at his back.

What does that mean?

It sounded like something one of the fae at the bar would say to me.

But Maliki makes it so much sexier. His compliment rolls over me like a hot wave, exciting my nerve endings.

And I’m right back to thinking about the way he pinned me against the wall.

The almost kiss.

His admission.

I shiver despite the heat rushing to my cheeks and nearly melt on the floor.

But he distracts me by saying, “This is your room.”

I swallow and look at the nondescript black door framed by skulls. “Looks inviting.” It’s a joke, one he clearly gets because he snorts.

“This is the Netherworld Kingdom, trouble. And you’re the Bride of Death.”

With that pronouncement, he grabs the skeleton hand, twists it like one would a knob, and pushes the heavy door open.

I pinch my lips together. “I think I prefer the standard doorknobs from my last two accommodations.”

“Hades decorated his own wing” is Maliki’s explanation.

I don’t need him to say more than that. The grotesque decor makes a lot of sense. “I can’t wait to see the inside,” I mutter.

Maliki chuckles again and leads the way inside, then he steps out of the way so I can see the interior.

Biting the side of my cheek, I gingerly enter and half expect to find a bed lined in bones.

But I’m pleasantly surprised to discover a room full of color.

The door magically closes behind me, keeping the three-headed wolf from following. Though, I’m rather certain the beast can’t fit through the threshold.

However, Pip enters just fine—through the wall—and begins investigating the space while I gape at the flowered walls.

Petals and vines and leaves are embedded in the rocky texture, making my lips part. The plants are not real. I can see that from here. However, the details are incredible.

“Wow,” I breathe, taking in the interesting scenery. “I don’t even recognize what these are supposed to be, but they’re pretty.”

I walk over to touch a vibrant orange flower that reminds me of an Oriental lily.

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, stroking the silky texture.

Maliki doesn’t comment, but I turn to find him rotating a familiar pot on the table.

It’s the one from my hut.

He grabbed it before we left, then it disappeared when he shadowed us up here.

Part of me wants to ask how it ended up in my rooms, but as I glance around, I realize it’s not the only thing that magically ended up here.

With a hint of suspicion, I go to the bathroom and freeze when I see that the space is larger than my entire home in the village. There are two double sinks—one on each side—a huge walk-in shower, and a tub that looks like it’s meant for bathing the wolf beast.

Holy fae, I breathe, touching the obsidian marble as I walk by the sink closest to me. The fixtures are all gold and silver, the opulence rather startling.

But what’s really impressive is the windowed wall of the shower, like through the glass. “It looks like a rainforest outside,” I marvel out loud, noting the way the mirage moves. “Like it really looks as though you’re staring right into the forest.”

Maliki joins me and pops his hip against the door frame, his arms folding. “Mine is just a black slate wall,” he tells me. “But I prefer it that way.”

I smile. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

I leave him to go investigate the closet like I intended when I first arrived and find all my belongings from the hut taking up a fraction of the space. The rest is full of gowns and other items, with one hanging alone, a note attached to it.

Narrowing my gaze, I walk toward it—which takes a lot longer than it should, considering this is just a closet, but the room is huge —and pluck the paper off the deep red dress.

If you’ll honor me with your presence at dinner, I would love for you to wear this…

Yours,

Hades

I frown. He made dinner sound like a mandatory affair, but this note almost implies I have a choice.

I don’t.

I know that.

Which is why I huff a laugh at the stupid letter, ball it up, and toss it on the floor—where it lands beside a pair of silver heels.

I glare at them. “He would make me wear heels.”

They’re a special form of torture, especially ones like those with the pointed ends and four inches of height.

I roll my eyes. Fine. Whatever . I’ll wear the damn outfit if it appeases him. It’s the least I can do, I guess.

“Sera?” Maliki asks, his voice right behind me. He looks around me to see the dress, his brow pinching. “You don’t have to do anything he asks, you know. You can tell him to fuck off.”

“Says the man he hired to convince me to marry him,” I return, arching my brow.

Maliki sighs. “He didn’t hire me. He just gave me the task. But like you, I can also tell him no.”

“Have you ever told him no?” I ask, curious. “Have you ever declined an assignment?”

He shakes his head. “No, I haven’t. But he’s never given me one I disagree with… until now.”

My eyebrow lifts a little higher. “You disagree with your current assignment?” The question comes out slowly, the air between us seeming to thicken with some sort of foreign tension.

“I disagree with convincing you to do something you don’t want to do,” he replies, taking a step toward me.

“And I disagree with this situation. I know you feel obligated now that you’ve learned what Persephone did to him.

” He shifts even closer to me, his palm cradling my cheek. “But you’re not Persephone.”

Oh, how I wish that were true.

But it’s not.

And there’s one simple way to explain why. So I ask him, “Can an entity survive without a soul?”

He stares down at me, his chest brushing mine as he closes the remaining gap between us.

“Should an innocent entity be held liable for the sins of a past life?” he counters, his gaze falling to my mouth. “Should an eternal bond between souls impact potential claims on any and all future reincarnations? Even when it’s clear said reincarnation is not only unmarked but also untouched?”

My lashes flutter, his soft words seeming to swirl around me in a kiss of forbidden energy. “Once a soul is assigned to an entity, is there even such a concept of freedom or choice? Or is it all dictated by fate?”

His forehead touches mine. “I refuse to believe that fate would be this cruel,” he whispers. “You don’t deserve to pay for Persephone’s sins, Serapina. And I’m going to ensure you don’t have to.”

I pull back to look up at him. “What do you mean?”

But he just shakes his head, his jaw clenched tight. “All of your things from the hut should be here. If anything was missed, let me know and I’ll retrieve it personally.”

I frown, confused by our abrupt conversation switch. As well as his sudden aloofness. “Maliki…”

“I’ll be back to check on you in a bit,” he says, not looking at me. “And I’ll ask for some food to be sent up as well.”

With that chilling line, he vanishes, leaving me staring at my closet with a mixture of bewilderment and annoyance.

And a tiny bit of frustration.

Because for a second, I thought he might kiss me.

My thumb brushes my lower lip, my mind conjuring sensations and fantasies of what it may have been like. And I suddenly find myself craving something I shouldn’t.

A real first kiss .

Not in a dream.

But in reality.

With Maliki .