Page 42

“Tell me⁠—”

“I married him, Rythos.”

Chapter Twelve

Prisoner

Lyra

Ijerked upright, dragging in ragged breath after ragged breath.

“Rythos,” I whispered, still feeling the ghost of his touch against my skin. The bond writhed in my chest. Darkness surged through it, squeezing around my heart as though it were trying to strangle it. Like it was trying to tear my heart out from the inside. My thoughts fractured.

Was that… real?

The power in my chest shimmered. Renewed and pulsing, filling the void that Cerilla’s magic had gouged out of me as if Rythos had really been here.

“Sorry to pull you from your dream, Sunshine. I know you were having a good time, but if we are late, Astaroth will get his panties in knot.” Helion leant against the doorframe, hands casually sliding into the pockets of his white, fitted trousers. His dimples flashed at me, but his corded forearms flexed beneath the pushed-up sleeves of his button down as if he were fighting the want to reach for me.

“Late for what?” I asked hesitantly, standing from where I had slept on the floor, schooling my face to conceal my protesting muscles.

“If you had slept in the bed, then your back might not be hurting,” he said has he quirked an eyebrow.

“I’d rather be sore than sleep next to you,” I remarked, pushing down the urge to sink my teeth into him.

“Trust me, Sunshine, I’d make you sorer than the floor ever could.” He gestured to an armoire that had not been there the night before. I crossed my arms over my chest. When I didn’t move, he raised an eyebrow. “Would you like help?”

I smoothed the revealing red fabric clinging to my body. I had undressed in front of Riven before, but this was different. This was Helion. The fallen god who turned Rythos into my hunter for eternity.

Swallowing my disgust, I raised my chin and strode to the armoire without sparing him another glance.

“Perhaps you could give me some privacy?” I asked with barely contained venom dripping through my voice.

Find out how to save Rythos, then kill him, I reminded myself.

“I can’t leave even if I wanted to, Sunshine,” he said, folding his arms over his broad chest. “I am trapped in this room unless summoned.”

Questions swirled through my mind. Clearly, Astaroth held the power over the Seven Hells. Helion was some sort of pawn. But what did that make me?

I gritted my teeth, the armoire creaking as it opened.

White garments greeted me, offensively crisp and cold, like the snow that smothered Stonebriar. My nose crinkled as I turned and surveyed Helion.

White boots, white trousers slung low on his hips, and a tunic the same shade of oppressing snow clung to every inch of his broad chest.

The muscular chest of a liar.

I met his gaze, heat dancing in his grey eyes as they watched me try to piece together what was happening. Daring me to bite. To ask. But I pushed down my questions, shoving them into a box with all the things I couldn’t afford to feel. I would play his game my way. In fact, I may even make it unpleasant for him.

I turned back towards the armoire, brushing my hair away from my back and gathering it over my shoulder.

I wanted him to see the scars butchering my back. The pain he had brought upon me.

“Untie me,” I said softly, though the magic woven into the words left no room for refusal.

I watched him with predatory satisfaction as his fists clenched at his sides—his only tell before he stopped fighting the glimmer of magic in my command.

“My pleasure, Sunshine,” he said with an easy grin. But I saw it, that brief flicker where I had slipped beneath his skin. He didn’t like it. The momentary loss of agency. And that alone was delicious.