Page 4 of Summer's Seduction

I’d always imagined The Underworld as a dark, hopeless, barren, and desolate place. There was Elysium for the blessed and Tartarus for the truly horrid souls, but I’d thought most of us would be shrouded in shadows—or was it mist? —wandering in a dull sort of way. But The Dark Palace was radiant— Good and complete in a way I hadn’t thought possible. It was home to all souls who had been forsaken in life… and yet I still felt like an outsider, an unwelcome voyeur trespassing on a sacred ritual, polluting the ground with each step I took.

With a shake of my head, I stuffed the rest of my allocated clothes into the small travel sack I’d stolen and turned for the door. I’d changed and packed as quickly as possible, hoping Tyche, the goddess of luck, would be on my side since I knew the gods in this realm weren’t. Time was all I needed—just enough to flee the palace and head north to find Psyche.

Persephone hadn’t yet called for me, which meant Hecate hadn’t arrived. The flutter of anticipation and hope swam in mystomach. I let that feeling build—just a little—as I headed down the hall to snag a few apples because why not? Hades already hated me. His Royal Darkness could add thievery to my list of many transgressions.

My boots echoed off the obsidian floors as I stalked toward the kitchens, the black gown I’d selected billowing out around me, concealing the daggers strapped to my thighs over a thick pair of form-fitting pants.

I had everything I needed to make the journey: two daggers in the side of my boot, a thin knife more useful for gutting animals than fighting, a small container of healing salve with strips of cloth to use for bandages, flint and stone to ignite a fire, and a jug of water. Food was the last item.

The familiar tingling along my canines pricked as I turned down another corridor lined with gold. I ran my tongue over my teeth and swollen gums. It had been too long since I’d fed. If I had any chance of pulling this off, I would need to be at full strength.

The temperature grew steadily warmer as I descended a narrow set of circular stairs. As I approached the kitchen, the clamor of knives and cutting boards stirred in the distance. Palace kitchens always seemed to be occupied, but it would be a small miracle if even one person had a pulse with blood I could feed from. An even bigger one if I could persuade one of them to slip away with me for a little bite.

Not many knew of my… tendencies. Demeter had seen to that. If any from the Earth Coven had realized my mother was one of The Night Children or that I was afflicted with their same weakness for blood, let alone that Demeter hadn’t killed me on sight, it would’ve spelled ruin for that bitch of a High Matriarch. Those who were unlucky enough to discover my secret ended up going missing. For all of The Earth Coven’s morals and claims tovalue life, Demeter had no qualms about killing those who didn’t fit into her master plan.

I like to think Persephone would have been different. The idea of telling her the truth—that I not only had magic from dark ones but also had fangs and required blood for survival—had played out in my mind dozens of times. But the possibility of her rejection, of her hatred and fear, and ultimately, the risk of her death had kept my lips sealed. Thank fuck it had.

She’d been the closest I’d come to a friend my entire life, and now she flinched from my touch. Guilt swam in my gut, twisting and churning with the whispered words of what I’d done to her, but I banished them with a shake of my head, lifting the leather sack higher on my shoulder.I wouldn’t have killed her.

So much had felt out of control at the time, and Demeter was dangling Psyche’s life over my head like a freshly sharpened blade primed over a butcher’s block. I would have stopped things before it went too far. Wouldn’t I have?

It didn’t matter. I knew I wouldn’t get any help here, undeserved or otherwise. And I didn’t need it. My entire life had been me looking out for myself. Morpheus may have all of them fooled, even Hades appeared to begrudgingly approve of him, but I wasn’t going to risk my sister’s life on the son of Hypnos, the very god who’d kept her locked away in The Underworld for the past seven years. How many other sisters, mothers, brothers, and innocent souls had Morpheus allowed his father to abuse? How many others had trusted him and lost?

Persephone wanted to wait for Hecate? To ask for her husband’s permission about the truth of mymotives,myinnocence in this war of gods and mortals? Well, she could play the good little witch all she wanted, but I was tied to no one. Obligated to nothing.

The sharp tang of blood spiked in the air, drawing me out of my thoughts. The sweetness was undercut with a bitternessonly the creatures of The Underworld had. Most likely a fury. My gums throbbed as my fangs extended, the gnawing hunger in my gut coiling like an angry viper poised to strike. The clatter of a knife and a muffled curse sounded behind the door at the end of the hall. I tilted my head, my eyes dilating as I let the monster within come out to play.

“That looks horrible,” a soft, feminine voice tsked. The swishing of skirts and rushed footsteps padding across obsidian floors sounded a moment before the door flew open. A young woman smelling of flour and salt dashed down the hall, oblivious to where I stood in the shadows.

Slinking forward, I glanced around the corner, finding the kitchen staff in full preparation for the looming feast. No one paid much heed as I slipped into the corner of the room, eyes focused on the fury bent forward and clutching his bleeding hand to his chest. His wings bristled as he reached for the damp towel on the nearby counter, wrapping the wound in a white cloth until red seeped through the fabric.

He glanced up as I moved closer, his face twisted in a grimace. His beard was freshly shaved, had a hint of fine lines around his dark eyes. Taking in the length of my body, his gaze lingered along the swell of my hips and the tightness of the gown across my breasts before meeting my eyes. Hunger blazed within, nearly rivaling my own.

“Bloodwhore,” he said, a smug smile twisting his lips as he pulled the stained cloth off to expose his wound. This would be easier than I thought.

I’d take my fill of blood from this fury and then expend my limited reserve of magic to make sure he never knew I was here. It was a skill I’d mastered over the years. They may have the satisfaction of watching me squirm for a taste of blood, taking pride in my weakness at the time, but they wouldn’t remember.It was necessary, playing this game of seductress, but each time I succumbed felt like a piece of me was being chipped away.

I would feed because Psyche was relying on me to save her. I would let his blood enter my body because I needed to keep my strength up if I were to have any chance of making it back to The Realm of The Living with her in tow.

His blood flowed freely from the deep wound, drops of it falling to the floor as he beckoned me forward.

I grinned, the expression full of resentment and self-loathing. “Allow me.”

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 hisdesires, 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.