Page 49 of Deadmen's Captive

My eyes flew open. “But that wasn’t my choice. And I was masked the whole time.”

Bast nodded. “You were masked, and no one except myself, Nate and Tristan knows your identity, but the roles of Hades and Persephone are steeped in tradition, centuries old. We vetted every woman who applied and there were many. You were the choice, and we cannot revoke that choice, the club forbids it.”

I shook my head. “Why do you care so much? It’s just a university club, it’s not important.”

He inhaled sharply, his hands tightening on my shoulders. “The Deadmen’s Club isn’t just another university society, Paige. Nate, Tristan and I, we’ve been raised to lead this club. It’s one of the entry ways into the Shadow Syndicate, and a lot rests upon the club being successful this year.”

“What’s the Shadow Syndicate?”

He hesitated a moment before explaining. "An organisation with influence in governments, corporations, and organised crime." His eyes burned into mine. "Every ritual we perform is part of a larger strategy. One misstep, one deviation, and the consequences..." He trailed off, letting the threat hang unspoken.

"And you expect me to believe all that rests on...me?" Disbelief warred with a strange sense of importance.

"Believe what you will." Bast's voice was low and tense. "But know this, if we screw up the year's rituals, it's not just me who pays the price. Every man here—"

"Is bound by tradition?" I cut in.

"Correct." His affirmation was a sharp nod. "And they'll suffer for it. It's more than social standing or tradition, and it means more than simple superstition. If the club doesn’t do well, every man here could lose everything, some even their lives."

"Because of me?"

"Because of whoever put you here," he corrected, and I could see the truth of it in his eyes. It wasn't just about power or control; it was survival—at least for him and the men of the club.

I sighed. “I don't understand. You want me to… what? Stay here and be your live in prostitute or something?”

Bast gave me another one of his cold smiles, his fingers tracing slowly up and down my throat. “Not exactly. The role of Persephone is one of honour. The three DeathKnights are Hades, and his two seconds. This year it’s me, Nate and Tristan. We choose one woman to share. To serve us, entertain us. It keeps our focus sharp for the crucial year ahead at Blackvellyn."

A chill traced my spine. Share? Like property?

“Sounds like slavery to me.”

“It's voluntary… normally. And it’s more complex than it seems. Think of it as... a girlfriend experience. With benefits. Expectations will be there," he continued, his gaze never leaving mine. "Sexual, yes. But it's not just about that. There will be rituals, performances within the club. Public ones, like tonight."

My stomach twisted, remembering the eyes on me, the hands. The heat that flushed through my body despite—or because—of the fear.

"Like some sick show?"

“Like the demonstration of everything the club stands for.” His hand wrapped gently around my throat, holding me still and his other hand trailed down between my breasts. I sucked my breath in, but said nothing as I watched him lean in. “This is what we are, Paige. Pain, pleasure and above all, power. The power to command. The power to seduce.”

His hand moved round to cup my breast and I saw my nipple harden in response, clearly visible through the silk. I blushed and I tried to turn my head away, to not look at the evidence of my own arousal, as he toyed with it through the thin fabric.

“Shame doesn’t suit you, Paige,” Bast murmured, his lips tickling down the side of my neck. "Your body is reacting... trusting even when your mind resists. You should let yourself be free.”

"Free to be... used?" I couldn't keep the bitterness from seeping into my tone.

"Free to explore. To feel. To be alive," he countered, his touch growing bolder.

"Alive," I repeated, the word resonating within me as his hands roamed over the silk, hinting at the heat underneath. My body responded despite the confusion, the lingering disgust. It yearned for the freedom he spoke of, even if my mind rebelled against it.

"I can't."

"Can't or won't?" Bast's voice was like silk.

"I'm not... that type of girl." The declaration felt hollow, even to my own ears.

A pause, and then he leaned closer. In the mirror, his eyes locked onto mine. "You say that, yet I saw you out there, Paige. Amidst the fear, I felt your body respond."

My cheeks burned, betrayal flush on my skin. "That doesn't mean anything."

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