Page 4 of Summer’s Seduction (Sinful Seasons #2)
LARKSPUR
I ’d drained him nearly to the point of him passing out, being sure to take as much as I could. The constant gnawing in my stomach had quieted, and the fatigue taxing my muscles had ceased, but I felt unclean. Rolling out my shoulders, I focused on my feet padding across the polished floors as I continued down the narrow corridor, my traveling bag now topped with light provisions and slung across my shoulder. There were so many passages in this place, which made it both easier to avoid people and more difficult to escape, but I was nearly out.
The fury had smiled as he led me out of the kitchens, his bloodied hand clutched to his chest. I followed him inside the dark room, doing my best to ignore his whispered promises of all the ways he would fuck me while I fed. How he would use me like the bloodwhore I was. Somehow, I’d managed to keep a smile on my face, falling deep into that chasm within myself as he shoved me to my knees.
With a few soft words and a lot of dark magic, I’d managed to convince him to let me take care of the wound along his palm first with hollowed promises of an after. He’d grinned like a gluttonous hog rolling in mud. My magic latched onto his desires, amplifying the vile thoughts as his filthy fingers dung into my hair while I drank.
For a moment, I’d contemplated altering his memory, persuading him to believe I’d turned him down. That I’d looked upon him in disgust and then left, but that would have taken too much magic. Feeding from a human granted me nearly a week, but a fury? I’d be lucky if it lasted a few days before I needed to feed again.
So, I’d let him revel in his triumph, changing just enough of his memory to have him believe I was sucking on something else as I took the blood my body needed. It was better than the alternative.
He knew I was a child of the night, but not allowing him to remember I’d fed gave me something back—a sliver of dignity among the endless shame.
Rumors would circulate, anyways— Blood bitch, bloodwhore, cursed halfling— but they would remain rumors only as long as I covered my tracks. Taunts had followed me all my life, ever since I’d first started showing signs of my mother’s blood. The Dark Ones would never accept me due to my lack of wings, a visible reminder of my tainted lineage. Likewise, witches hated me the moment they caught a glimpse of my dark magic and fangs.
Even those in The Dark Faction rarely mixed with The Dark Ones. They were seen as wild, untamed things driven by their baser instincts to feed and fuck. But wasn’t that all of us? Every creature from The Realm of the Living and The Underworld craved the same things. The Dark Ones were just more open about it.
Letting out a flustered huff, I shook my head. Fuck this place and The Realm of the Living. Everyone was so gods damned judgmental of each other. I’d thought maybe Persephone would understand why I’d had to do what I did… but I should have known.
We’d lived such different lives. Her childhood hadn’t been easy either, but I’d spared her the worst of it. The Dark Ones were revolting in a number of ways, but at least they were honest about their wickedness. It’s much harder to avoid a snake when it’s dressed up in pretty promises and upstanding morals.
My stomach twisted as phantom touches of those honorable citizens long since gone crawled across my skin.
They’re not here. I survived.
I’d repeated the words so many times—hundreds of times—but they still felt like a lie because they were here. Somewhere in the world, they were living. They were sharing smiles and shaking hands without a care. Without a single hesitation. While I was left to pick up the pieces of my broken self. And told to be thankful they hadn’t taken more.
Did those men really think death was worse than this? That obliterating all happiness and hope, destroying any concept of love—forcing me to continue with only the mangled, shattered shards of my soul—was better than death?
I shook my head as I picked up my pace, not liking how the passage opened. On one side, there was a large hall with double doors; on the other, domed windows stretched high. The sky was growing darker, and flickers of fireflies illuminated the early evening quiet. Things were peaceful here. Protected. It made me squirm.
The worst of it was done. I’d fed, and if I were cautious, I’d have enough magic to get me through the next few days. All I needed to do was sneak out of The Dark Palace without being seen, transverse The Underworld, and find my sister with only a vague idea of where she was.
No problem. I’d survived worse odds. I just needed to make sure I avoided?—
Heavy footsteps sounded from the room ahead a moment before the wooden door burst open. Black boots and a long leather trench coat eclipsed by great, bat-like wings stumbled into the hall, blocking my path. The scent of alcohol filled the air as Morpheus rolled his shoulders, the nearly empty bottle sloshing with a sharp, golden liquid.
A dark brow lifted as his golden eyes darted from the bag across my shoulder to the subtle flush of my dark skin along my cheeks that I got after a feeding. If he looked hard enough, I had no doubt he’d see a faint trace of red around my irises, too. Demeter had concealed it for most of my life, but she was gone now, and I was left exposed. It wasn’t anything as dramatic as what Morpheus displayed upon feeding, but it was still a confirmation of what I’d done. Of what I was .
I’d been minutes away from fleeing, from freedom, but he didn’t know that. I ground my teeth as Morpheus stepped closer, desperately attempting to appear nonchalant. He studied me like a predator would its next meal.
“Going somewhere?” Morpheus asked, his gaze sharp despite the slight slur to his words.
“That’s none of your business,” I said, making to push past him.
Morpheus moved quicker than should have been possible, his larger frame caging me against the windows. The sound of glass shattered somewhere behind him, the scent of alcohol surrounding us as my heart thundered in my ears. I fought to steady my breathing, to smother the spike of fear scenting the air, but then he leaned in, dragging his nose up the length of my neck.
“Oh, but it is, little monster.” The heat of his breath sent a shiver through my body. I wish like fuck I could say it was from fear, but the sweet tang of arousal swirled around us as his lips caressed the shell of my ear. The only leg I had to stand on was that it wasn’t only me who appreciated the way our bodies fit together. “I gave Lord Hades my word that I’d keep you from destroying things in his realm.”
Lord Hades, one of the three gods with essentially endless power. One flick of his hand and I could’ve already been in The Darklands, but Hades had refused to help.
“Yes, well,” I started, ignoring the electric heat buzzing along the places our bodies touched. I shoved against the hard planes of Morpheus’s chest, forcing distance between us. “Destroying things is what I do best.”
The smile I offered him was pure poison. The rattle of a snake before it struck. It was a defense I’d deployed often and one that had a nearly perfect success rate of getting people to fuck off.
“Such a vicious little monster,” Morpheus grinned. His wings shifted before tucking close behind him, the gust of air stirring my loose, umber curls. “I should have known you’d have fangs. But if you wanted a meal, you could have just asked. Furies are a snack, at best.”
I felt the blood drain from my face as my body tensed, but of course, Morpheus would be able to tell I’d just fed from a fury. Even I could smell the slightly fatty residue clinging to my normally clean scent.
Concealing my true nature had become synonymous with survival the moment Demeter had killed my father and taken me and my sister prisoner. I had too many deaths on my conscience of unsuspecting witches and humans who’d stumbled into the truth of my lineage. As I grew stronger, I’d resorted to my power of persuasion to minimize the fallout.
Looking The Dark Prince over, I doubted Morpheus would be swayed, either with my magic or my body. Which meant, I had to use words to get him to keep my secret.
His smile stretched, revealing the tips of sharp fangs. “Don’t worry, Larkspur. We’re all monsters here. Some are just better at hiding it.”
“What do you know about pretending?” I snapped. “You’ve probably been given everything you’ve ever wanted. Yes, we’re all monsters, but not all of us have Daddy protecting us from the harsh realities of life.”
Morpheus stilled, every ounce of joy and teasing vanishing from his face. “No, we don’t,” he said, the flare of his nostrils betraying the calm of his voice. “I wonder what it would be like to have a parent who cared if you lived or died?”
I fought against the urge to roll my eyes as I pushed past him, veering toward the corridor that must connect to the main level.
“Don’t act like you two aren’t working together. You might have the entire court fooled, but I know a manipulator when I see one.”
Shattered glass crunched under his boots a moment before he fell into step beside me. “Takes one to know one, little monster.”
“Fuck off,” I seethed.
“Only if you help,” he smirked.
I stopped and turned, glaring up into his golden eyes. Morpheus was everything I hated. He was rich and protected and given everything on a silver platter. He was the sole prince of The Sleeping Kingdom and the rightful fucking king of The Nightmare Kingdom since the original line had died out. If he genuinely was against Hypnos, he would’ve acted by now. Gods know that I would’ve used every ounce of power at my disposal the moment it grazed my fingertips.
But he did nothing. And he wanted me to believe he was on my side? That he could fathom one shred of what it meant to live the life I had?
“I don’t know how you’ve managed to convince anyone here to trust you, but I’m not that fucking stupid,” I seethed, putting every ounce of venom I could muster into my words. “All I see when I look at you is a spoiled, rich brat who thinks a bad fuck, or a ruined high is the worst thing that can happen in life. You’re nothing to take seriously. Your daddy didn’t tell you he loved you? Tough shit. Grow the fuck up.”
My chest heaved as I spit the words, the twisting in my stomach growing tighter with each breath. With each flinch that crossed his face. Ignoring the gnawing weight of guilt and shame clawing at me, I turned. This time, when I stepped past Morpheus, he didn’t stop me.
He deserved it… Didn’t he? The sun had only just set, and he was already drunk, partying the day away without a care as the world burned. So, why had he looked like I’d shredded him? It had to be an act.
The throne room came into view, meaning the front door to the palace was just beyond. Not my first choice, but I was running out of time.
Picking up my pace, I prayed no one heard my footsteps echoing as I neared. The black decor was woven with an abundance of gilded flowers and priceless diamonds. It was overly masculine and on the verge of being gaudy—classic Hades—but I guess if I had infinite wealth, I’d go a little over the top, too.
The space was mostly empty, just as I’d hoped. I was sure to keep my stride solid and natural, so I slipped into the foyer and lifted my hand toward the golden handles. Grassy fields were just beyond the start of the path that would lead to finding Psyche and getting the fuck out of there.
My fingertips brushed the handle a moment before they swung open. I jumped back, cursing as I tried to hide, but I wasn’t quick enough.
A torrent of shadows framing large wings, and a spiked crown set among spiraling ram horns stepped forward. Hades’s gaze was eclipsed in black as he glared down at me. His presence made all the more menacing by the swath of storm clouds streaked with lightning in the distance.
“Lark,” Persephone said, emerging from the swirling shadows billowing from The God of The Underworld. Her golden crown shimmered atop her red curls, her green eyes darting from her husband to me. “We were just about to get you. Something’s happened.”