Page 1 of The Prince of Hidden Shadows (Runaway Prince Hotel #5)

Zagreus

“ N ow, use my mouth,” my lover’s sultry voice commands.

A low growl rumbles in my throat. Next, my hand snatches the wrist I know as well as my own. We’ve done this before—the games in shadow, the stolen moments on the brink of being caught. But I’m sick of it. One of us may crave an audience. I crave the aftermath. Behind my door. Beneath my hands.

My chambers are a strange comfort. The bed—yes, an actual bed, not some ceremonial slab—sits against the far wall.

Its cold, ornate iron frame curves into shapes that resemble the vines twisting over mortal cemeteries.

I never needed it, not really. Gods don’t need sleep, but after enough time roaming the surface, I grew addicted to the idea—how mortals surrender to rest, how dreams carry them like the tide.

Down here, there’s no night. Instead, an endless gray presses in through the stone.

Still, I’ve tried to mimic their world: a threadbare rug stolen from some noble's villa, a wooden table scarred by age and use, candles for warmth more than light. The air clings a little thicker in this room, as if it remembers things I’d rather forget.

He stops as the back of his knees brush against the bedframe, grinding our concealed cocks together, and flashes me a salacious smile. His breath hitches as I catch mine when he switches places with me. In a heartbeat, our well-rehearsed dance unfolds.

First, his skillful hands slide under my tunic, kneading my butt cheeks.

Second, I kick my practical—if unusual—garment pooled around my ankles, and my steely length jerks free from its confinement.

Third, he kneels before me, his left hand hooked around my thigh, and he dips his head towards the object of his affection.

We’re both stark naked.

Enthralled, I hold his hooded gaze, wicked intent lurking beneath those baby blues. At first glance, you’d think this gorgeous being is harmless. But you’d be wrong. Hermes loves to play—with my heart most of all.

Over the centuries, I’ve learned to protect myself from the frivolous god, but I can’t resist the pull between us any more than I can resist his talented fingers, mouth, and cock.

We’ve established an open on/off fuck buddy relationship whenever he brings souls to the Underworld and makes time to pay me a visit, and I’m not otherwise attached.

Ages have passed since I last stepped on Earth.

Plenty of chances, never a reason. I hate having to hear it from him—that humans created a video game about me, their misinterpretation of my life.

It’s inaccurate on so many levels. How can I blame them for twisting a truth they aren’t privy to?

Humans don’t care who I’ve been involved with, even if Thanatos never shared more than bad jokes with me.

Humans enjoy hearing about our fantasy lives they dismiss as tall tales.

Humans no longer believe in us, all they remember from what they now call “mythology” is that Greek gods fucked like rabbits.

Close enough: That’s what happens when you get bored out of your skull from spending too much time stuck in one place—the Underworld, as far as I’m concerned.

Living up to such a reputation can be exhausting, but it’s almost always fun.

Eyes trained on me, he licks his lips. His left arm snakes behind my thigh, drawing us closer—if there’s even any space left.

My breath falters, and he engulfs me in his wet inferno.

He wraps his free hand around the base of my dick, then pleasures me in all the right places, applying perfect pressure.

I groan. “Oh, fuuuck…” I lose myself in the blissful sensation.

Soon, his fingers are gone—replaced by the warm pull of his lips.

I fist his long blond hair as his cheeks hollow, taking me deeper.

Relentless, I thrust until I hit the back of his throat.

“So good…” My knees wobble. He devours me with practiced ease, tongue and heat dragging over every inch of my pulsating length. Swirling. Caressing. Loving.

Make no mistake, we love fucking each other’s brains out, but love has no place in this.

My heart skips a beat when he releases me with a pop, and I frown until his focus turns to my tightening balls.

He carries on with his ministrations. His stare remains on mine.

In between licks, he uses his teeth around the sensitive area, eliciting a mix of pain and pleasure that I revel in.

“You’ve softened,” he declares, so I break eye contact to watch my fully erect and throbbing cock that’s begging for attention.

A triumphant grin spreads across his face.

“I was referring to you , sweetheart, not your dick,” he says, jacking himself.

“Once upon a time, you would have gleefully obliged and enjoyed every second of it… Look at you now !” He shakes his head, his words dripping with contempt.

“You’re handling me with care I explicitly refused.

Get a hold of yourself—this isn’t how we roll.

Listen up! Fuck. My. Mouth. Like. You. Mean. It.”

Upon his request, I do. No holds barred.

Tugging harder on his silky hair, I smirk when he winces.

With a punishing rhythm, I use him, witnessing his lust-filled, watering eyes each time I slam in deep.

“Such eagerness, H!” No more gag reflex.

“You’re so fucking good at this… Oh, gods.

” My voice cracks, and the fucker chuckles, his ravenous mouth full of cock.

He’s obviously proud of his perfected technique.

Too soon, I come down his well-trained throat.

Catching his breath, he licks his swollen lips, his eyes zeroing in on me.

Blissed out, I flop onto the mattress, legs dangling off the edge of the bed.

A way to avoid his quizzical gaze. What does he want from me?

Taking deep breaths, I will my heart to calm down.

It won’t stop echoing in my ears. From afar, I hear Hermes collecting his clothes. My brain doesn’t register his farewell until he’s vanished from my chambers.

Gasping for air, I wake up in a cold sweat.

“Noooo…” I send the sheet flying with brute force, acknowledging my sticky state.

That dream again… Sitting with my back resting against the wrought-iron headboard, knees bent and elbows on them, I hold my traitorous head between my hands and do my best to catch my breath.

A stupid wet dream! The rude awakening drenched my overgrown, tangled curls, and I reek of sex after an orgasm I don’t remember having.

A dream—or rather, a hellish distant memory from when my most devoted lover last crossed the threshold of my private quarters.

Former devoted lover, that is. We’ve had our ups and downs, but we never parted ways without a goodbye. A passionate one. An angry one. A careless one. This time was different. Final… How could he break up with me when we were never even dating? Says I’m not the same feisty guy he once knew.

“You’ve softened…” His words have been haunting me ever since.

Overthinking isn’t how I tend to roll, so what’s unusual about this situation?

Guess I didn’t read it right, and it’s eating at me.

I misconstrued his accusation as innuendo.

It’s only been two days, but unease grips my gut and won’t let go.

No amount of fucking has been able to distract me.

I’m not foolish enough to claim that Hermes broke my heart.

Like I said, it was never about love between us.

But somehow, he shattered my pride and my confidence.

I refuse to believe that I softened in any way.

Still, I keep rubbing salt in the wound, questioning if Hermes was right.

I’m Hades’s son, for fuck’s sake. During a drunken haze I once shared with Zeus, he confided that I was one of his many illegitimate children, but a legitimate god nonetheless.

As my birth father, he urged Hades to hide and protect me from his wife’s wrath.

Being the Prince of the Underworld suits me just fine, although I’m not what people expect me to be.

Somber. Heartless. Cunning. Nah, that’s not me!

Was Hermes right about me after all? Stop it! It doesn’t matter now.

At long last, my breathing evens out, prompting me to spring out of bed, desperate for a hot bath to cleanse myself of the grime left by Hermes and the mess he caused.

Moments later, my arms are extended around the rim of a thermal pool in a large, tranquil grotto.

Being immortal, I’m detached from sensation—incapable of feeling it the way that mortals do.

The dullness of the Underworld only amplifies that numbness.

But I’ve walked the Earth; I know what things should feel like.

My flesh is pruning, so the dark water must be scalding hot.

I sigh, Hermes’s statement replaying inside my head. “You’ve softened…”

“Damn right, I have, and it feels fucking good, asshole!” I bellow, breaking the peacefulness.

Steam seeps through the jagged stone as I sink deeper, the grotto hushed but for the slow drip of mineral-heavy droplets echoing off the cavern walls.

There’s no sky here, no wind, no passage of time—just the familiar weight of silence pressing from all sides, endless and still.

A mortal might gag on the sharp sulfur stench hanging in the air, thick and acrid, but to me it’s nothing.

I remember Earth’s cold, how it gripped my skin with intent.

Meanwhile, the Underworld is unchanging, absolute.

I eventually relax and return to reflecting on Zeus. Unlike him, I value faithfulness in everything I do and abide by it. Granted, he has a lot on his plate, and I respect him for it—but why cheat? He loves Hera, doesn’t he?

If you ask me, his entire existence resembles a soap opera, which I find appalling given his status.

How do I know about such mundane distractions?

My best friend, Hecate, is to blame for introducing me to oddities like talk shows, insisting it’d help me better understand humans.

Being the goddess of magic, thresholds, and shadows, she tempted me with mindless earthly pleasures. I shouldn’t say that, though. Pop culture saved me from boredom. I owe human TV for that discovery. No language issues—I dove straight into shows, movies, and music. And yeah, I’m obsessed.

That’s why I couldn’t help my bitter laugh much later when I belatedly fathomed that the king of Olympian gods pulled a Darth Vader trick on me.

I’m not sure where the truth lies; I don’t remember my younger years.

Could Zeus be my father? If you can call absence fatherhood.

It wouldn’t make a difference anyway. I belong here.

The Underworld inhabitants are my people.

What matters most is that I get along with Hades, who respects me and my work here.

So, I keep my visits to Olympus to a minimum—when Hera’s away on business.

“Here you are!” The feminine voice from behind startles me. I swivel my head up, shooting a sideways glance at Hecate, who’s kneeling and giggling as she ruffles my hair.

She doesn’t appear like the terrible vision that would incinerate mortal eyes—no triple-bodied deity crowned with torches or ringed in dogs.

When she walks the Underworld or the Earth, she wears a shape that’s more approachable, though no less unsettling if you stare too closely.

Her long black hair tumbles over one shoulder in ink-dark waves, and her eyes are a silver so pale, they almost vanish in shadow—unnerving, but not without warmth.

She moves with the silent elegance of something born between worlds—willowy and fluid, yet with a quiet strength coiled beneath her tall frame.

The guise she chooses today is one of deceptive softness, and still, I’ve seen her silence ghosts with a glance.

A warm smile flashes across my face. We’ve been through so much together that we embrace everything that the other has to offer—good and bad in equal measure.

The naturally hot water mixed with sweat from my previous activity made my hair so damp; it’s gross, sticking to my scalp and forehead.

I was intending to wash it when she caught me.

Elbows hunched at the rim of the small pit, I tilt my head back, letting her have her way with me since she doesn’t seem to mind.

“Wasn’t sure if I’d find you here or sulking and looking for solace in Charon’s arms.”

“Was yesterday’s plan, minus the sulking, obviously. Hermes isn’t worth my time.”

And yet, I’ve been replaying the scene day and night.

Damn you, Hermes .

“Word travels fast in the Underworld, I see.” I sigh, frustrated that the world I live in doesn’t grant a reprieve.

“You know how he is… Hermes and his big mouth…” She trails off.

“I’m well acquainted with said mouth, thank you very much,” I grunt, then plunge further into the water. Before I’m completely immersed, I catch a glimpse of Hecate from the corner of my eye —falling onto her perfect ass, stunned—as a sharp hiss escapes her parted mouth.

“Careful, fool!”

I reappear seconds later, sliding my hands over my head to slick down my wet curls. “Enough talk about him.”

Still seated, my friend contorts to grab a towel and passes it to me as I leave the soothing thermal warmth. Nudity among us Greek gods isn’t an issue.

“Agreed… I did deposit a concoction on your nightstand. You should drink it tonight for a peaceful night.”

“Thank you, goddess of magic… I appreciate the concern.” I wink at her playfully as I put on my clothes, although my heart isn’t quite in it. “I’ll be fine. But I still don’t get it. Why does that asshole have such a grip on me?”

“Some things defy rational explanation, even among us.”

She pushes herself to stand, palms flat on the floor of the grotto, then helps me tie the knot at my waist.

“Eros says you have nothing to worry about.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh? What now?”

“He told me he’d uncover your soulmate. Said he sensed something—that it won’t be long before you're reunited.”

I snort a bitter laugh as we start walking, hand in hand. “I don’t need Eros’s help to match me up with my?—”

She leans in, kisses my temple, and gently cuts me off. “I know, I know. You don’t believe in soulmates because none of us have a soul. But why believe in my magic and not his? He has your best interest at heart. He said it’s going to be?—”

“Spare me the details, will you? I’m not interested. I need a break from all this…” I sweep my arm dramatically in front of me. “Greekness!”

She chuckles and gives my hand a squeeze. “I get it. Really.”

Then she slows her pace, tilts her head toward me, and repeats the one word I hadn’t let her finish when I interrupted her.

“—epic.”