“Hades,” she mutters. Her head lolls against my arm.
“How many of those pills did you take?”
She wriggles in my arms as I carry her into the bathroom. When I switch on the light, she tries to hide her face in my chest.
“How many pills, Persephone?” I ask, setting her on the edge of the tub, keeping hold of her as her head flops forward and she goes quiet, her breathing leveling out.
“Fuck. Look at me. Open your eyes and fucking look at me,” I tell her, holding her by her jaw and tapping her cheek in an effort to wake her. “Persephone. Look at me.”
When she doesn’t respond, I reach around her to keep hold of her and undo the cufflink at my right wrist, then left. I pocket both, then roll the sleeves up to my elbows.
I reach to plug the tub and switch on the cold water, my arm still around her back.
“Here we go,” I say, picking her up. “You are not going to like this.”
I slide her into the tub and her reaction is instant.
Her eyes fly open and her shocked gasp is almost a scream as she turns her body toward me, hands clawing at my arm to get out of the cold water.
“Awake now?”
She looks up at me, her expression one of confusion, disorientation.
I splash water at her face.
She sucks in a shivering breath. “Stop! What are you…are you insane?”
“How many pills did you take, Persephone?”
She’s trying to get to the tap to turn it off herself.
I grab her wrist, make her look at me. “How many?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know. Four. Five maybe.”
“Never these. Do you understand me? Never these!”
“You’re hurting me!”
I look down at where I’m holding her wrist. Hard. I clear my throat, loosen my hold.
“They don’t work anyway,” she says.
“Fuck.” I switch off the water. I take a towel from the rack and turn to find her trying to climb out. “Jesus Christ. Wait a fucking minute,” I say as she slips, and I catch her just before she knocks her face against the side of the tub.
“What are you doing? Are you trying to freeze me to death?”
“No, you’re doing that yourself with the heating switched off during a fucking blizzard.” I wrap the towel around her. I pull off my own shirt, which is pretty much soaked, and hold her to me to warm her up.
She’s shivering and doesn’t fight me, but tucks her arms between us, laying her cheek on my chest.
“I’m so cold.” Her teeth chatter.
I draw her back, pull the wet tank top from her, then wrap her tight in the towel and lift her up.
“Why isn’t the heating switched on? And why the fuck are you taking Irina’s sleeping pills? And four or five? You don’t even remember how many you took? If you’re trying to hurt yourself, you’re being a fucking idiot.”
“Hurt myself?” she asks, blinking heavily, rubbing her eyes.
I stand her before the bed to drag her soaked panties off and toss them aside before I sit and pull her onto my lap, holding her against my chest.
“Yes, hurt yourself.” I hear it myself, understand its meaning.
Is history repeating itself?
She draws back. “I’m not. I wouldn’t.” She shakes her head, clearly upset by what I just said. “I just…I can’t sleep. The pills don’t work so I…I took a few more.” She glances away, pushes her fingers into her hair.
“Well, that’s fucking stupid. No more pills and certainly not these.”
She looks up at me and I see the moment she realizes that she’s naked on my lap.
“I wasn’t trying to hurt myself. I wouldn’t,” she says, trying to extricate herself.
“The front door was unlocked, the gates left open. Anyone could walk in here.”
She opens her mouth but closes it again because she knows she’s being stupid not closing the gates.
“And why is it so cold in here?” But I realize why as soon as I ask it. “Fuck.”
Tears fill her eyes and she pushes against me. “Let me go.”
“No.”
“I said let me go.” She shoves harder.
“Fine,” I drop her on her ass on the carpet.
She’s surprised but recovers quickly. Stands.
“You want to know why it’s cold in here?” she asks wrapping her arms around herself. “It’s fucking cold because we have no money, remember? In case you haven’t noticed, the house is almost completely empty of furniture and just today, I signed a contract selling myself to you so I could buy time. So I wouldn’t have to tell my fifteen-year-old sister that we’re homeless.”
“Homeless is an exaggeration.”
“Is it? It’s fucking freezing because you stole our house out from under us. You stole everything while my father lies dying in that fucking hospital bed!”
I’m on my feet in an instant feeling a familiar rage. One that I know doesn’t belong to her.
Persephone takes one look at me and turns to run. But I’m blocking her exit and she corners herself when she backs away. When her back is to the wall, I slam my hands against it, making her jump
“I didn’t steal anything,” I say, my voice low and tight. “Everything I did was legal.”
“Legal but cruel.”
“Your father wasn’t the man you thought he was.”
“He was a kind man. That’s all I need to know.” She shakes her head. “He is a kind man!”
“Bury your head in the sand. It’s easier that way.”
“Fuck you!”
“Fuck me?”
“Fuck. You.”
“You don’t know anything.”
“I know you’re a monster. That’s all I need to know.”
“Be careful, sweetheart.”
“I’m not scared of you, Hayden Montgomery!”
“No?” I lean my head down so my forehead is touching hers. “You’re not scared of me? Maybe you should be.”
I watch her throat work as she swallows. Watch how her hands have fisted at her sides.
“Get on the bed, Persephone.”
She stares up at me.
“I said get on the goddamned bed. Don’t make me make you. I was gentle this morning.”
“Gentle?” Her forehead furrows, any rage-fueled confidence vanishes as she processes. “You humiliated me.”
“Your pussy was wet.”
“I—”
“Get on the bed.”
Her pulse races at her throat and for a moment, I’m not sure if she’s going to do it or if I’m going to have to make her. I’m not sure which I want.
I lean away, give her an inch of space.
She glares up at me, and when she drops her head, her hair falls like a veil between us. I look at her like this, shoulders slumping in a little as she hugs her arms around her middle before shifting her gaze back to mine.
This is hard. This is fucking hard. Looking at her like this. Watching the sheen of tears glaze her violet eyes.
But she steels her spine, her hands fist as she forces them to her sides.
“You’re going to have to make me,” she spits the words and before I’ve even processed them, I’m on her. I’m gripping that hair and dragging her backward like a fucking caveman as she stumbles, arms windmilling to keep her balance.