Page 391 of The First Taste

I am sure that part of her docility is due to the pain medication, though.

Eschewing the bedrooms, which are undoubtedly so dusty and dingy as to be near worthless, I opt for hustling Persephone into my late father’s office.

A library full of books covers the entirety of one wall. Several dusty wingback chairs sit clustered near the small window. My father’s desk is exactly as he left it the last day he was alive, complete with his favorite fancy pen. Yellowing papers in a neat wire basket on one corner. A bit of his dusty blue stationary sits in the middle of his desk. He was in the middle of writing a letter to one of his political chums when he died of a sudden stroke.

I can see the flourished swirl of his handwriting. It wasn’t necessary to read the damn thing to know that he was angry. He was always furious about something or the other, bitter until his dying fucking breath.

I swallow hard and half-carry Persephone over to one of the chairs. Leaving her standing on her own for a moment, I lift one of the smooth, butter yellow leather chairs over my head. It takes a minute of blowing on it and brushing my hands over it to remove most of the dust.

Persephone is suddenly wracked with a coughing fit, fanning a hand in front of her face. She looks as if she could keel over at any moment.

Gritting my teeth, I catch her by the elbow and lever her into the chair.

“Stay put,” I tell her. “I have to use the landline to call in someone to clean.”

“What?” She coughs again, her shoulders shaking. “I thought we were on the run. Why are you broadcasting our location to the world all of a sudden?”

“Just relax.” I shoot her a glare out of the corner of my eye and stride over to the phone on the desk. “My family owns the closest town and almost everything on this damn two-bit island. The school, the paper, the local mill? They all belong to me. And those that aren’t owned by me are owned by friends of the family.” I pause, my brows rising a little. “Besides. Who would they even tell?”

Persephone straightens and leans back in her chair. Her hand travels up to the bandages on her ribcage. “Constantine, for one.”

I don’t feel safe around you.The thought echoes around in the background of my thoughts. I grimace.

Persephone Corbin will feel safe here. I’m as sure of it as I am that the sky is blue, that the grass underneath my feet will one day again turn green. If it is the very last thing I do, she will know she is safe here.

“Yer untouchable while yer here. The island is distant from every other place on earth, lass. The house is remote. We are locked inside a manor surrounded by a very, very big wall.” I pick up the phone, shrugging as if it’s moot. “I’d love to see him attack this place. It’s been in my family for a millennia, unassailable ever since the Lyons laid claim to it.” I pause for a second, my tongue darting out to wet my bottom lip. “I brought ye to the only place I’ve ever thought of as being truly safe.”

She arches a brow at me. But my explanation, my word, will have to be good enough for her for now. I turn, giving her my shoulder as I start to dial a number I still know by heart.

It rings three times before anyone picks up.

“Hello?” answers a young woman.

“This is Hades Lyon,” I say, frowning. “Please tell Mary Nightingale that I’m here in the house. I’ll need people to come right away to clean and make sure all the lights still work.”

There is a pause. “Did you say you were Hades Lyon?”

My frown deepens. “Yes,” I fire back.

“Hold on.” There is a muffled noise, as if the young woman has placed her hand over the receiver. She gives an inelegant squawk and seems to argue with an older, distant woman on her end.

She comes back suddenly. “We’ll be right there, Mr. Lyon.”

I hang up without another word. When I turn back around, Persephone is shivering in her seat. She’s still wearing the bright pink scrubs that she got after the doctor cut her dress off her body. It’s not even remotely cold but I guess she’s been through a lot in the past ten hours.

“Ach, lass,” I say, going over to rub her arms briskly. “I’ve nothing to give to ye to warm ye up. It’s been so long since I’ve been here that I’m not even sure where the wood is to light a fire in the fireplace.”

Persephone leans against me, accepting my touch without so much as a flinch. “S’okay.” She yawns. “I’ve been cold all day.”

“Persephone…” I look down at her, my hands still rubbing her arms and moving around to her back. “I dinnae ken what I’m supposed to do with ye.”

She scrunches up her nose, pressing her face into my stomach and weaving her hands around me. She buries her hands in the back of my shirt, pulling it free from my waist.

“What doeskenmean?”

“It means… know. To have knowledge.”

“Ah,” she says absently. She slides her gaze to me. “And it’s Penny, by the way.”