Page 3 of Currency in Flesh

“You’re in the Underworld, little daffodil,” she said, eyes sweeping up and down my bruised and broken body as I trembled before her. “And I am its dynast.”

My chest felt too tight, like a massive hand gripped my fractured rib cage. My vision began to darken at the edges, and I must have begun to sway because I felt her reach for my elbow to keep me from falling. “I don’t believe you. I’ve experienced trauma, I-I…” my exhale came out ragged as I ran out of words and fell back to the couch.

“Yes, and you will experience more,” she whispered against my ear. “But someday you may come to enjoy it. It’s been a long time since I had a pet, and you are too lovely not to keep.”

Her fingers glided across my skin, tracing my ruined eye, her thumb brushing my split lip and the swollen edge of my jaw. As her featherlight touch moved over my flesh, the pain faded. My vision slowly cleared as the swelling abated leavingonly a line of warmth in its place. She ran her fingertips down my neck, pushing my snarled hair over my shoulder.

The deep-rooted, icy fear I had felt in the bar returned, twining up my limbs and making every hair stand on end. I felt like a very small rabbit in the moments before the fox’s jaws snapped shut. But some unspeakable, sick part of me had unconsciously leaned into her—liked having someone touch me so gently. I let my eyes close with shame, shying away from the contact.

Her hand continued to slide down, pushing the blanket aside and barely grazing the curve of my breast before a dagger-sharp nail scraped over my nipple. My breath hitched. I refused to acknowledge why. I felt her lips against my ear, her breath indescribably hot as she drew my earlobe between her teeth and bit down. I flinched at the small, sharp pain and knew she had broken the skin.

She groaned. “I hope your pussy is as sweet as your blood, blossom. I intend to taste them both quite frequently.”

My fingers dug into the skin of my forearms as I wrapped them around myself. I shook in silence, pitiful and struck still. “Are you going to hurt me like he did?” My voice came out weak.

She pinched my chin between her thumb and forefinger, nails cutting into my jaw with a bright burst of pain, and forced my eyes to meet hers. They glittered, casting green light across my cheeks, and I felt like a fool for not knowing immediately that she was not an ordinary woman.

“No, Grace, I am not going to hurt you like he did,” she said. “Someday, when I hurt you, you will thank me. You will beg me for more like a simpering, needy slut. And I can already see how easy it’s going to be. It’s been barely more than a day since that man beat you into the ground, and I can almost guarantee you are wet from a single touch. I am going to enjoy watching you bloom.”

I couldn’t meet her eyes, my cheeks heating with shame and fear. She was wrong, had to be wrong. “Did you kill him?” I realized I didn’t care, but I wanted to know.

“This is the Underworld, Grace.” I could hear the way her lips tipped up in a smile. “I have eternity to punish him for all his past transgressions.”

A small, wicked spark buried deep down in the darkest pit of my psyche glimmered to life, and my shame deepened even further.

“Oh, you lovely, vicious thing,” she said. “If you’re good, I’ll let you watch.”

The spark flared.

CHAPTER THREE

She led me through the dimly lit space, walking through the walls with ease, until we reached a room containing nothing save for a bed. It was massive, with four posts that reached the ceiling. A series of metal rings and buckles ran down each thick, black pillar.

I stared with wide eyes, and she huffed out a small sound of amusement. “None of what you see in this realm is strictly—” she drew her lip between her teeth before continuing, “corporeal. Anything you come into contact with, see, hear… taste, is my doing. The walls will be solid to you without me, but beside me they will yield to you.”

“How?” I managed to get out in a breathy voice.

“As I said before, I am the ruler of this realm. Therefore, it falls under my governance entirely. Without my influence, it would be nothing more than rock and the screaming eternity of gathered and bound souls.” She shrugged. “I prefer it to have a more civilized appearance. I would have made you a bathroom, but you won't need one any longer, no moreunpleasantness of a mortal body. Though, should you wish to bathe, my chambers connect to a series of mineral hot springs.”

I sat on the edge of the bed, sinking into the mattress, and stared at my hands. The blood and bruising were gone, and my body was healed, but I still recalled every injury in staggering detail. I imagined I must be in shock—going from physical and emotional pain to this odd, detached state in which I was expected to believe the unbelievable. There was no way she was telling the truth. I wasn’t sure how to proceed, none of this could be real. But fuck, even if it was—I didn’t even know the woman’s name. What would I eat? What would I do? Would I have to see Sean again? Nausea roiled in my gut and I bent at the waist, letting my head rest in my hands as I tried to breathe deeply and pull myself back from the edge of panic.

“You should rest,” she said.

“What is your name?” I blurted out. It wasn’t the question I had intended to ask, but considering I would apparently be here forever, I felt like I should at least have some familiarity with my… whatever she was.

Her sharply angled brows raised, like she was surprised by the question. Maybe she was. I doubt she spent much time conversing with strangers if she was, truly, the Queen of the Underworld.

“It has been a long time since anyone asked me my name,” she said quietly. When my eyes met hers, she straightened, expression shuttering. “I never really liked any of the names or titles I was given, they were all so… pretentious. Cora will be sufficient.”

I nodded, but added a hurried, “Lady Cora.”

She hummed and I thought I saw a tiny smile quirk her lips. “LadyCora,” she said. “Yes, I like that.”

She turned her back on me without another word, striding from the room and leaving no door behind her.

The bed was, as it had seemed, sumptuously comfortable.The sheets were a cool satin in a deep purple that I initially mistook for black. The pillows were down filled, and I sank into them and tugged the heavy duvet up to my chin. She was right. I felt weary and unmoored. I had the distinct feeling of being in that uncanny space between dreaming and consciousness, unable to trust my own sight or mind. I tried to sleep, closing my eyes and attempting to practice a meditation my therapist Donna had taught me to aid in relaxation.

I failed.

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