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Chapter 14
Hades woke up to the sun peeking into his room. He moved, and a stinging pain radiated from his right hand and spread through his arm. His entire body hurt, too.Bloody hell!
He groaned and turned on a soft bed. So fucking soft. Where the devil was he?
He peeled his eyes open and sat up. The view that greeted him made him question his sanity. He lay on his bed, the huge four-poster bed that he hated to the bottom of his soul, between the clean sheets. But more surprising than that was the fact that Eloise, the girl he had snatched from her home and kept prisoner, sat on the chair by the bed.
Well, not sat exactly, her head was thrown back, and she was snoring peacefully in her single chemise. Hades carefully shifted in his bed and noticed that he was almost fully naked. He lifted his right hand to find that it was carefully bandaged. And that’s when the events of last night crashed through his mind.
He had worked tirelessly with his men, sorting the new shipment, when the Shadows raided his hell and burnt his place down. He’d carried his men out of the building, helped make sure everyone was cared for, and then, for the first time in ten years, drowned his sorrows in a bottle of whiskey.
He had been too drunk and tired to think clearly. He ascended the stairs, swaying as he did so, and was afraid he’d die right there in the corridor. He’d refused to die without seeing Eloise one last time, so he had knocked on her door.
And instead of rejecting him, letting him die, or at least suffer, she had taken care of him. She’d cleaned him and bandaged his wounds. What an angel she was. He leaned against the pillows and watched her tenderly.
She was so beautiful and pure. She did not deserve his act of revenge against her brother. She deserved his lurid touch and venomous kisses even less. But he couldn’t help it. He wanted her.
He had wanted her since the moment he’d spotted her for the first time all those months ago, and her presence in his home did not douse the fire. On the contrary.
He had kissed her twice. And both times, she had not been repelled by him. She had not pushed him away. Oddly, she’d seemed to enjoy it.
He looked at her soft curves and her white, silky skin, wishing he could touch her, taste her, own her. But he did not deserve her. He was dirty. His body was sinful, and his soul was as black as coal.
The touch of another human had always disgusted him. Her touch, however, had aroused him. And that brought on too many feelings and memories that he did not know how to react to. He had never felt arousal without feeling helpless, disgusted, demeaned.
What she made him feel was different. But even if her touch was not degrading, his touch definitely was.
However, she was here. And at the very least, he got to watch her sleep. She’d tried to heal his body the night before; he wished she could heal his rotten soul, too.
A rap sounded on the door, and Eloise stirred. Hades tried to spring from the bed, but his body resisted.
“Devil,” he growled.
Eloise shifted her position but didn’t awaken.
Another rap. Hades carefully got out of bed and slowly padded toward the door. His muscles ached, and his wound burned, but he tried not to concentrate on the pain.
He opened the door and regarded Sal, who stood before him, his face full of fear.
“Master, Verity went to check on Eloise this morning, but she is not there. Last night with the raid we—”
Hades waved a careless hand. “She’s unharmed. She’s… here,” he rasped, his voice still hoarse from sleep.
Sal raised a brow, then tilted his head to peek inside the room, but Hades moved to shield the view.
“How is Grace?” he asked.
“She is awake and is feeling well. Unharmed.”
“Everyone else?”
“A few men are down with fever… Grace is leading the women in looking after them. She’s preparing more herbs and salve in the kitchen.”
Hades nodded. Salve. That’s exactly what he needed. His wound was burning, and he needed to change the dressing. But most importantly, he needed a bath. Badly.
“Are there enough men standing to heat me a bath?” he asked.
Sal swallowed and nodded.
