Page 13 of Deadmen's Captive

I stood, turning to follow him out of the office.

"See you at home," Bast said, as I closed the door behind me. Nate and I headed out into the woods, and with a silent nod to me, he turned and headed off along another path, towards the university gym. We had our own in our house, but the university’s was bigger and they had the pool too which was usually deserted at this time of night. Nate wasn’t exactly the most social person in the world.

I made my way down the opposite path that would eventually take me past the cheaper dorm rooms and along the streets of the more elite student houses. The one the three of us lived in was the biggest and most luxurious on campus, and was always assigned to the Hades and his DeathKnights…and their Persephone, of course. I thought back to Paige’s tiny bedroom. I’d had a good look around while installing our cameras, and it was certainly not fit for our girl. Because she was our girl. I knew it, and so did Nate, and Bast would come around eventually. Her golden beauty and innocence would be irresistible to his own dark desires.

I’d met her two weeks earlier, though she’d never remember. She’d been lying on her stomach on the green in the university quad, sketching something. It had been late afternoon, and it had been before the weather had turned. There had been quite a few students out there sunbathing and enjoying the last of the summer sun, but she had caught my eye immediately. The sun hair turned her hair to spun gold and her innocent concentration on her sketching was captivating. I'd watched her for a while, the soft curve of her cheeks, her long eyelashes fluttering as she looked down at her sketchbook. And then, when she stood to leave, somehow tripping over nothing and giggling to herself in embarrassment, I was completely smitten.

That day, I had decided that she would be mine, even if I had to break every rule in the Deadmen’s Club to get her. I needed her. That golden sunshine for my eternal darkness. I had installed the cameras the following day, not this evening as Bast had been told, and I had spent every free moment watching her, studying her every move. When I had seen her name on the list of Persephone applicants, my heart had raced as I’d been filled with both the need to protect her from my friends’ dark proclivities, and excitement and lust at the thought of what I would be able to do to her if she got the position.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, alerting me to the time. I pulled it out, swiping to find the live feed of Paige’s room and I paused, watching. Paige was ready for bed now, her damp hair a thick gold braid down her back. She wore pale pink fleecy pyjamas as she sat on her bed reading, and I shook my head. A goddess like her should be clad in lace and silk. When she became ours, it would be all she wore. If she was permitted to wear anything at all. Bast would control what she wore, I already knew that he was very particular in his tastes, and while it wasn’t that important to me what she started off wearing, I was intrigued to see what he would make her wear in our service.

Her head snapped up as a knock sounded at the door. Sadly, there was no sound to the feed, but I smiled as she moved hesitantly towards the door, pulling it open a crack before opening it fully. My messenger stood there, his arms full of black roses. I couldn’t see his face, but I remembered his terror earlier at being singled out by a DeathKnight. The money I’d paid him to deliver the roses specifically at midnight had gone a long way to easing his fears though.

She closed the door and moved back towards her desk, setting the roses down, and leaning in to breathe in their scent. My fingers itch with the need to wind that golden braid around my hand, to pull her back against me, feel her heart race beneath my touch, to slide my hand below her waistband.

“Patience," I reminded myself. "All in good time."

I slipped my hand into the pocket of my leather jacket, the fabric brushing against my fingers as I found the soft treasure. A pair of Paige's panties—white, delicate. My prize from earlier when I'd been pretending to plant the cameras in her room. Slowly, I pulled them out and brought them to my face, inhaling deeply, taking in the faint musky scent of her. It's intoxicating. My body responded instantly, a primal urge below, stirring me to full attention. I savoured the forbidden pleasure, feeling like a man starved for a taste of something sweet.

"Soon," I whispered, the word barely a breath. Soon she'll be ours, wrapped up in this game of power and desire. The thought sends a jolt through me, a dark thrill at what's to come. Soon, Paige Matthews. Soon you'll be the sun that brightens our shadowed world, whether you know it yet or not.

Chapter Six

PAIGE

He was following me again, the man in the skull mask.

The dorm security guard had said it was a prank. The Reapers did this every year, following young women. it was a tradition, and most girls didn’t mind. They were flattered. Every member of the Deadmen’s Club were elite bachelors, and attention from them was welcomed. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. It unnerved me, but at the same time, knowing he was there watching me sent a shiver down my spine that wasn’t entirely from fear. Mother would be proud, I thought, if she knew I’d attracted attention from one of Blackvellyn’s rich eligible males. The thought took away some of the thrill, and I glanced behind me again.

For a moment, I didn’t see him, then I spotted him, about thirty yards back leaning against a building. The darkness was growing, leaving most of his face in shadow, and the dry autumn leaves danced around his feet. I had a sudden urge to walk up to him and demand to know why he was following me. It must be the fourth time that I knew of, and I was convinced it was the same guy each time. I recognised his build now: broad shoulders tapering down to a slender waist. He was tall, easily six three or six four. He’d tower over my tiny five foot three frame if he ever came anywhere near me, but he never did. He always stayed in the shadows.

I walked through the leafy streets, keeping my head high, faking a confidence I didn’t feel. There were a few other people on the streets, making me feel slightly safer, but the feeling still nagged at me that if he ever decided to do more than follow me, there were many shadowy streets I could be dragged into.

My heart skipped as I imagined a hand clamping over my mouth, a strong arm wrapping around my shoulders as he dragged me away into the shadows. The conversation in the club about the missing girls floated through my mind. Were the Reapers responsible? Would he bring a knife to my throat as he pinned me against the wall, those dark empty sockets gazing down at me as the cold steel pressed against my throat. My breathing catches in my throat, and I swallow hard as I feel heat spread through my body. My cheeks flash with shame at my body’s reaction to my dark thoughts. I should not be reacting this way to the idea of being dragged into an alley by the man following behind.

I glanced behind again, just as I turned a corner. He’s slightly closer now, maybe twenty feet away. He's in no hurry. Why would he be? He knows exactly where I’m going. He knows where I live.

Is he thinking about me right now? I wondered. Is this just a prank, or has he chosen me for some other reason? My imagination darts back to my fantasy alleyway, the knife pressed at my throat as his other hand slowly undoes the buttons on my shirt. Would he be gentle? Probably not. In my mind, his hand cups my breast, his thumb running over my nipple before he pinches it hard. I gasp at the thought, shoving the image away as I feel a rush of heat between my legs. It’s not like I could imagine much more without any frame of reference. The stranger in the club and my dark rescuer were the closest I’d ever got to anything sexual, and my mother controlled everything I read and watched. I’d never even…

A hand came down on my shoulder, and I gasped, whirling around, my heart thudding hard against my ribcage. It wasn’t him.

Another man stood there, looking down at me, an apologetic smile on his face.

“I’m so sorry, I called your name but you didn’t reply, and I needed to get your attention.”

I looked up at him. Jesus, were all the guys in this university this damn tall? Over six foot, curly blonde hair cropped short at the sides and longer on top, eyes that looked like they might be blue, though it was hard to tell in the growing dark, and a tan that implied winter holidays in hot climates. A square jaw and cheekbones Superman would be proud of. He smiled down at me, eyes crinkling at the sides, and my heart jumped.

“No, it’s fine. I was just… distracted.”

He nodded. “I guessed, but I am sorry for startling you. It’s just, you dropped this.” He held out my student ID. I stared at it stupidly for a moment.

"Thank you," I exhaled, taking it from him. His fingers brushed mine, and my skin tingled where he’d touched me.

“No problem,” he said. “I was walking this way anyway. I’m Tristan, by the way.”

"I know," I replied before I could stop myself, then cringed internally. How embarrassing. Of course, I knew who he was. Everyone on campus did. Tristan Blackwood, son of the billionaire tech genius Corey Blackwood. The ultimate playboy.

“I’m Paige,” I said, trying to cover my awkwardness.

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