up into my arms. She squeaks a little and goes tense but doesn’t argue as I stride into the parking garage. I inhale slowly, catching the faint scent of vanilla, likely from her lotion or something like that. It’s too faint to be a perfume.
It makes my mouth water.
I find my head of security, Sara, leaning against the trunk of my town car. They look at me and raise their eyebrows. I’d informed them of my plans; Sara doesn’t like me to bring unknowns into my penthouse until they’ve run all the necessary background checks. They don’t like Aurora in particular, because she’s a ghost. There’s no record of her before she showed up in the Underworld as a submissive nine years ago. No birth certificate. No school records. Nothing. It raises Sara’s hackles, but they know better than to challenge me on this sort of thing when I set my mind to it. When push comes to shove, I’m just as capable of protecting myself as Sara is, and they know it.
They move to the back door and open it, holding it steady as I set Aurora onto the seat. “Scoot.” I wait for her to obey before I glance at Sara. “Take us home.”
“Short trip.”
“I got what I came for.” Whom I came for.
Sara waits for me to slide into the backseat and then shuts the door. A few seconds later, they climb into the front seat and we’re off. It’s only when we pass the boundary between Hades’s territory and mine that I allow myself to relax a little. I didn’t honestly think he’d change his mind, but Hades isn’t quite rational when it comes to Aurora. I couldn’t afford to rule anything out.
It’s happening.
She’s mine for two weeks, and mine alone.
I twist in the seat to find her sitting sweetly beside me with her hands clasped and her head bowed. The urge to touch her is almost more than I can deny, but I shove it down deep. There’s plenty of time for that later. For now, it’s important to establish how this will go. “Take off your panties, Aurora. Now.”
4
Aurora
How many identical orders have I been issued over the years? Quiet commands. Loud ones. Sweet. Cutting. None of them affected me the way Malone’s idle sentence does. Take off your panties, Aurora. She sounds almost disinterested, as if commenting on the weather. In the darkness of the back of the car, I can’t quite see her expression. Not that it would matter; I’ve never seen anything but ice in Malone’s eyes. Even the single time she brought me to orgasm, she didn’t thaw in the least.
I try to hold on to my anger, my hate, but it feels so fucking good to submit. To set aside all the messy emotions that have been clinging to me like spiderwebs for the past two days. When I submit, it all ceases to exist.
I have to obey if I want her to let her guard down.
The plan feels flimsy at best, but I refuse to admit that Allecto might have been right. She wasn’t. I have this under control. Truly, I do.
I lift my hips and slide my panties down my legs. The temptation rises to do more, to spread my legs or let a strap of my teddy fall, but I manage to restrain myself. To give perfect obedience. There will be a time to press Malone later. Right now, I can be a good little submissive.
“Make yourself come.” Again, a cold command in a disinterested tone.
I’m almost ashamed by how wet I am. That this woman, this enemy manages to turn me on despite the hate burning strong in my chest. I pull my teddy up and stroke my pussy. Malone doesn’t even watch. She’s looking out the window as if this is a normal car ride and I’m not fingering myself less than a foot from her.
Even in the shadows of the backseat, lit only by the lights of buildings we pass, she’s gorgeous enough to steal my breath. Malone is a white woman with the kind of pale skin that makes me think she’s never seen the sun. I know she’s forty-one from the file Meg keeps on her in the Underworld, but looking at her, she could easily be a decade younger. Her short white-blond hair is styled back from her face as always, and she’s wearing one of my favorite outfits of hers. Red-bottom black heels, black cigarette pants with a white