Page 35 of Seduced

“That is not his name,” Hades said, his head bent low over Poppy’s leg. He was busy unsticking the fabric of the stocking from a raw patch of skin, which had bled through, and Poppy for once took his advice and did not look. It was all she could do to keep the screams inside. “But he forbids us from using his real one, or his title, on pain of death.”

“Why…why is he called Dante Augustus then?” Poppy asked, unsure whether she was supposed to address him directly or not, after all.

Dante flashed her a cheeky smile, and she was momentarily blinded by the transformation of his face.

“Because we met him in August, and he used to be in hell,” Hades said, unpleasantly.

“Still is,” Dante interjected, still sunk in his bow. “Ninth circle and all. And stop talking about me as if I’m not here.”

“Well, you barely are,” Hades said drily.

“That is a strange choice for a name,” Poppy observed, wondering what Hades had meant.

“Someone came up with it at school,” Hades replied, “eons ago.”

“I wonder who that someone was?” Dante straightened up and stood there, shooting daggers at Hade’s back. “Oh, wait, it was you, you oaf.”

“Stop it, Dante,” Hades said, unperturbed. “Anyway, someone gave him this name as a form of dark humor or irony or whatever. We had this idea that Peter used to be intelligent, I don’t know why. He quickly proved us all wrong. But I think it was he who was considered a great reader, and he started calling this one Dante, because he had been through the nine circles of hell, as the poem says. I was the one who made it stick,” he added, with no little pride.

“It sounds horrible.” Poppy was burning with curiosity as to who this Peter person was, but she was in too much pain to ask.

“Well, that was Peter for you,” Hades said. “Horrible.”

“At any rate, I am Poppy Wyatt,” Poppy said to Dante, her voice wobbly from not screaming. She decided to avoid the ‘Persephone’ so as not to complicate things further. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Lyon. I think.”

“It’s Lord Lyon,” Hades interjected helpfully, “at the very least. He’s the son of a duke, devil take his black soul.”

Then he coughed, as a direct result of being kicked vilely in the back by Dante.

“Don’t mind him,” Dante said to Poppy. “Call me Dante, please, Miss Wyatt.”

“And you must call me Poppy.”

Dante inclined his head, and his mouth did something that tried to resemble a smile but failed miserably.

“Are you a prisoner here as well?” Poppy asked him.

“As well? You mean thatyouare…?” Dante said, his hair flopping over his forehead in a boyish way, as he swung his head in surprise. He must not be over seventeen years of age, if that.

“You are not my prisoner, Miss Wyatt,” Hades said from the floor. The feel of his corded forearm against her skin was absolutely driving her crazy. She would need to atone for the reaction of her body—not to mention the reaction of her brain to his touch.Do they have rice in this place?“Nor is Dante. You are simply not allowed to leave this club under any circumstances, either of you.”

“I,” Dante said, lifting his sharp chin in the air, “am in hiding.”

“From whom, if I may ask?” Poppy said.

“You may not,” Hades said at the same time that Dante said:

“From everyone. From myself, mostly. From my father as well. Everyone wants to murder me, it seems.”

“It’s nothing to be proud of,” Hades murmured under his breath, but Dante still heard it, because he murmured back: “Isn’t it?” in aggressive tones.

Poppy’s heart constricted, mostly because he had said ‘from myself’.

“Thus your lordship’s fear of spies,” she surmised aloud.

Was Dante his well-kept secret? Was this boy the reason he was so afraid of discovery?

“I’ll thank you to keep your mouth shut,” Hades said to Dante sharply. “Right, that’s done. Get to work removing these, if you please.” To Poppy, through gritted teeth: “He isnotmy secret, you little spy.”

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