Page 80 of Hades

With a deep inhale, I knock on her door and wait.

After a few minutes, I knock again and wait.

“Kennedy?”

When no one answers, I look around to ensure no one is around before I materialize inside her apartment. It’s a handy angelic trick I’ve retained, though it isn’t good for much beyond a few feet. But for some light B&E, it does the trick.

The moment I’m inside, I know there is no one home. I’m standing on the opposite side of her front door, looking directly into her living room. It’s spacious, with large windows that let in vast amounts of light. But it’s the bottle of wine and two glasses on the small table that have my attention.

Jealousy courses through my veins as I imagine that scrawny doctor enjoying a glass of wine with my girl. A low growl resonates from my chest, and I want to find him and rip him limb for limb with my bare hands.

“Fuck,” I grumble as I move forward into her living space to get a better look around. I know I should leave. She isn’t home, but something compels me forward. Morbid curiosity, maybe.

Is it possible that he’s already moved in?

Without a second thought, I head down the small hall looking for a bedroom. It isn’t hard to find. On one side of the hall, there’s a set of glass French doors that lead into what looks like an office, and directly opposite is a bedroom.

Her bedroom has the same large windows as the living area, and the decor is distinctly feminine. I take a moment to imagine her waking up with the morning sun cascading over her body. A body I’ve never actually seen, only imagined.

I take a deep breath and realize that the only scent in the room is her. Instantly my jealousy from a moment ago dissipates. “So, he doesn’t live here,” I breathe in again. “And he’s never been in your bedroom.” This realization puts a wide smile on my face, although it shouldn’t. I should want her to be happy, and if doctor scrawny does it for her, then I should want that for her. But I don’t. I’m selfish that way.

I take a few moments to look around, careful not to disturb anything. The bed is made and has more decorative pillows than one person could ever need. I shake my head because I don’t understand the need for useless pillows. For centuries I slept on the ground during battle, thankful that there wasn’t a rock under my back. Then I wished for the hard soil when I was chained to a stone wall, and all I could do was let my head fall forward to sleep.

I could never have imagined a bed with so many pillows, none of which were used for your head. But even my brother’s bedroom now has copious amounts of useless pillows, all arranged perfectly every morning by Sloane.

Walking over to the windows, I look out. A green runs the length of Commonwealth Avenue, splitting the street in half. I’ve spent many a night there watching Kennedy’s apartment, making sure she was safe. This was the window she would stand and look out of. I can’t help but wonder what she thought as she gazed out into the night. So many times, I had thought about going to her. Instead, I stayed in the shadows of the trees and let her be.

Glancing around her bedroom, I try to take it all in, every detail so I can remember everything about her. A framed photo on her dresser catches my attention. Picking it up, I look at a brace-faced Kennedy smiling wide with an equally awkward pre-teen Salem. It’s clearly summer, and they are at the beach, carefree and young.

Salem has also become a great friend to me over the years since we first met. Thankfully, she has Michael always to protect her, not that she ever needed it. She is more powerful than she realizes, and as a turned vampire, she’s dangerous as hell. Not someone even I would want to go up against.

Carefully, I put the picture back down where it was and continued my perusal of Kennedy’s home. My brain and heart are at war over whether I should leave. I know that rationally, I should go, I don’t belong here, and technically I am breaking and entering. Not something I’m proud of. Even if the initial reason was to ensure she wasn’t sprawled out dead on the floor.

Or that last thought was to rationalize my being here.

I don’t do anything creepy, like rummaging through her drawers. But as I’m about to leave her bedroom, I notice the drawer to her nightstand is open, so I casually make my way over.

There isn’t much in the small drawer, a ChapStick, a well-read book, and a pair of reading glasses. Out of curiosity, I grab the book and look at the front. It’s easy to tell that it’s a romance novel by the half-naked man on the cover. Its pages are dog-eared, and the spine is cracked. This is clearly a book she has read more than once.

Flipping it open to one of the tabbed pages, I begin to read.

“Spread your legs for me, like a good girl. I want to see how wet you are,” Vlad commands. His deep baritone voice and thick Romanian accent have me nearly begging him to pleasure me.

I have no idea what he looks like, only that his voice sends me into a trance-like state, and I willingly hand my body over to him to use for his pleasure.

“What the fuck.”

I flip to another folded page.

Vlad ties my hands behind my back before forcing me to my knees. I know this submissive position well, and I’m happy to serve him. “I’m going to fuck your mouth until you gag on my cock.”

I suppress my eager smile and open my mouth willingly.

Flipping through the pages it’s clear that she has marked all the sex scenes for easy retrieval to reread quickly.

“You dirty girl,” I say with a smile.

As I move to put it back, a photo falls out from between the pages. When I pick it up and turn it over, my heart nearly stops beating. It’s the picture she took of us with her phone the day we met. She’s smiling wide with her arm around my shoulders, pressing her cheek to mine. Her bright blue eyes sparkle and practically jump off the photo. I, on the other hand, look petrified, most likely because I was.

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