Page 12 of Forbidden Empire (Sinful Gods #1)

Four

E SME

I zigzagged through the sea of bodies, ducking between slot machines and dodging cocktail servers until I spotted the swinging double doors marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. I shoved through them, the doors slapping shut behind me with a satisfying thwack.

My intuition told me Aidon couldn’t be far behind. He’d never give up.

Not now that I’d managed to stir his fury, but I couldn’t say that I felt any regret about that.

In fact, it was thrilling to know I could get so deep under his skin.

Behind the scenes, the casino was pure chaos.

Had I lost him?

The employee corridor erupted around me, a hive of white uniforms, shouted orders, and the metallic clatter of service carts.

A cook with a tray of champagne flutes glared as I shouldered past. My stilettos betrayed me on the slick floor, ankle twisting. I caught myself against the wall, leaving a sweaty handprint on the pristine paint.

"Hey! You can't be back here!" someone shouted.

I didn't look back. Just pushed off the wall and sprinted forward, the click-click-click of my heels like a time bomb counting down. Another set of doors loomed ahead.

I slammed through them and froze.

Flashing lights. Ringing machines. Another goddamn casino.

"Fuck!" The word hissed through my clenched teeth as my pulse hammered in my throat.

I’d find my way out of this one, too. I could do it.

I yanked my oversized sunglasses from my bag, fumbling them onto my face with trembling fingers, forcing myself to slow my steps even as every nerve screamed to run.

The tinted lenses turned the already dim casino into a murky underwater world where shadows morphed into Aidon's silhouette at every turn.

My phone vibrated with multiple texts from Selene:

SELENE: Where the fuck are you going?

SELENE: You’re in Olympus. Are you crazy?

SELENE: You don’t go from Olympus to the Underworld. Zeno’s and Aidon’s crews are everywhere.

SELENE: MULTIPLE EXITS COVERED. Aidon’s and Zeno’s. You’re fucked.

SELENE: Let me know where to send the funeral flowers.

Sweat trickled between my shoulder blades as I weaved through the labyrinth of slot machines.

A man in a dark suit by the craps table touched his earpiece, eyes scanning the crowd.

One of Zeno's. I ducked behind a bachelorette party, their shrieks of laughter providing perfect cover.

Twenty feet to the side exit. Fifteen. Ten.

The taxi stand stood just beyond those doors. Then the airport. Then freedom.

My fingertips tingled with the phantom sensation of a boarding pass. The taste of champagne at thirty thousand feet. The sweet relief of disappearing.

A ghost in the wind.

A forgotten memory.

The Vegas casinos were designed to be a series of labyrinths that swallowed exits whole and made it almost impossible to leave.

The pathways twisted and turned like a monstrous snake, ensnaring me in a relentless loop, making me feel like a frantic rat trapped in a never-ending maze.

With every labored step, my frustration swelled, each breath more ragged than the last.

I stumbled to a halt by an elevator with a small map beside it, scanning the sea of faces in the glass reflection.

My heart thundered against my ribs as I spotted one of Aidon’s men locking eyes with me, charging forward just as the elevator doors yawned open.

I dove inside, my fingers slamming the buttons with frenzied urgency to shut the doors. My luck teetered on the brink, but for some reason it held, and the doors slid shut mere seconds before the man reached them, sealing him out and propelling me skyward.

"God, thank you," I gasped.

I jabbed the top button, praying for a path to the roof, a sanctuary to lie low.

In moments, the elevator rocketed me to the top floor, revealing a vast, opulent, carpeted hallway.

Gold gilded mirrors adorned the walls, their frames cradled by rich red velvet damask wallpaper, imbuing the corridor with an air of extravagant luxury. At the far end loomed a pair of heavy, intricately carved wooden doors, flanked by gleaming gold sconces.

"Of course, the high rollers level," I muttered, my gaze darting all around.

I turned my head to the other end of the hallway and saw what I was looking for.

I bolted toward the roof access, my heels digging into the plush carpet with each frantic stride. Freedom waited just beyond that door.

All I needed was twenty minutes on that rooftop to disappear.

My fingertips brushed cold metal when the knob twisted. The door exploded inward, slamming against my shoulder.

Ares filled the doorframe, his scarred face twisting with recognition.

"You," he snarled, lunging forward. “You can’t get away from us here.”

His hands clamped around my biceps like steel traps, fingertips digging deep enough to leave bruises.

"Call the boss!" he barked over his shoulder, his breath hot against my ear. "NOW!"

I thrashed against him, my dress tearing at the shoulder. The second guard's phone glinted in the hallway light as he punched in numbers.

“Fuck you!" I screamed, dropping my weight all of a sudden.

As Ares adjusted his grip, I snapped my head forward, sinking my teeth into the meaty part of his forearm until I tasted copper.

His howl echoed down the hallway as my elbow cracked against his ribs. I stomped my stiletto straight down on his leather shoe.

Bone crunched. His grip slackened just enough that I twisted, tearing free.

Freedom. Twenty feet away. Ten. The elevator dinged.

The doors slid open, and there Aidon stood, blocking the light like a solar eclipse.

I slammed into his chest at full speed, the impact stealing my breath. His cologne hit me next, cedar and whiskey and something darker.

His fingers flexed at his sides. One heartbeat. Two. His lips curled upward, revealing teeth too white against his olive skin.

"You've always been a fighter, haven't you, Esme?" The words slid from his mouth like silk over steel. "It's one of the things I admire the most about you."

Despite the rage boiling in his eyes, he seemed to be in complete control of his emotions.

In contrast, my heart was racing a mile a minute, a thin sheen of sweat had beaded on my forehead, and my breasts were heaving.

Frustration mounted inside me.

How could he maintain such infuriating calm? Just being near him tossed me into a whirlpool of anxiety, my thoughts spinning.

I shot a glare up at him, struggling to regain my breath.

"You can't stand not being in control, can you?" I spat, a molten river of frustration matching his seething tension.

My gaze flickered downward, catching sight of the gun nestled beneath his suit jacket.

His men approached like a storm, their anger palpable, eager to demonstrate their loyalty to Aidon. Escaping their clutches would be a Herculean feat.

I edged back toward the penthouse doors, and he mirrored my movement with a predatory step forward. I retreated again, lifting my chin.

With a calculated stumble, I feigned clumsiness, aiming to catch him off guard. As he reached to steady me by the elbow, I lunged for his jacket, fingers brushing the cold, rigid steel of his gun.

"Fuck! Esme!" A primal growl tore from his throat as he seized my wrist, twisting it with merciless precision until the weapon clattered to the floor.

He shoved me against the wall with unyielding force, pinning my arm above my head in a vice grip.

He brought his face inches from mine, nostrils flaring, jaw clenched so tight a muscle twitched beneath his stubble.

I dropped my gaze to the floor, to his shoes, to anything but those eyes that burned like acetylene torches.

His fingers dug into my jawbone, wrenching my face upward. The pad of his thumb pressed against my pulse point, feeling it flutter like a trapped bird.

His pupils dilated until a thin ring of color remained. Something feral lived in that gaze, something that wanted to devour me whole. My knees weakened.

My mouth dried. The wall behind me was the one thing keeping me upright.

Sweat beaded at my hairline as his breath scorched my cheek. The scent of him, whiskey, cedar, and rage, filled my lungs until I couldn't remember how to exhale.

His chest rose and fell against mine, our heartbeats hammering in violent synchrony.

I clawed at the wallpaper behind me, desperate for purchase, for escape, for anything to ground me as the room tilted sideways.

"Do you think I'm going to let you get away from me again, Esme?"

Each syllable of my name vibrated through my sternum, down my spine, and between my thighs. My lips parted.

God help me, I wanted him to say it again.

How could I crave someone with such unbearable intensity while at the same time burning with the desperate urge to flee from him?

My lungs seized, refusing to pull in air. My mind was a chaotic void.

Above all, I could not allow Aidon to glimpse the power he wielded over me, the way he could unravel my very essence.

That would mean surrendering, and I was far from ready to concede.

I lifted my chin, a cocky smirk curling on my lips.

"You need me too much to hurt me," I taunted.

His eyes darkened, pupils expanding as if to swallow the light, a silent acknowledgment that I had struck a nerve. We both knew the undeniable truth in my words.

Aidon might not inflict pain, but he was resolute in his refusal to release me.

His grip on my chin tightened, a fleeting moment of possession before he withdrew, retreating and taking with him that intoxicating, searing heat that left me aching.

Damn it.

I stifled the whimper clawing at my throat at the loss. Something primal within me writhed in agony, a beast of longing and raw need.

But I would never let him see it.

My smirk widened, and I raised a brow, challenging him.

He gave no reply.

Well, not with words.

But his response was explosive, undeniable, and absolute.

He seized my hand with a grip of iron and yanked me toward the hidden wall panel with a force that brooked no resistance. I knew what it concealed: the elevator to his penthouse, a place of power and secrets.

With a swift swipe of his keycard, he thrust me inside. I stumbled, my heart racing, as the doors slammed shut. Silence reigned in the brief seconds it took to ascend to his domain.

In the entryway, he propelled me forward and secured the locks with a finality that echoed like a gavel.

He turned, fixing me with a gaze that was a tempest of fury, an unforgiving storm that sent shivers down my spine and ignited a fire of forbidden desire within me.

“You don’t get to run from me again.”

His words were a decree, devoid of hesitation, devoid of doubt.

He believed it with an intensity that shook the very air around us. But he was so damn wrong, whether he realized it or not.

There was no way in hell I wouldn’t run again.

Maybe he’d claimed victory in this skirmish, but he hadn’t won the war.

I smirked, defiant, shaking my head, daring him with every fiber of my being.

With a fierce scowl, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving me alone to witness his retreat, every step a taunt, his form a testament to the maddening allure that made me question every choice that had brought me to this charged moment.