Page 49 of Hades

She wasn't allowed a phone, the internet, a radio or even a newspaper, unless she overheard conversation she had no idea what atrocities were going on in the outside world, maybe the little bitch would be a bit more grateful to him by keeping her here if she knew the shit the world had come to lately.

He'd taken care of her parent’s problem not long after stealing her, he allowed one phone call to check in every now and then, so the halfwits didn't cause trouble, her dad was always the harshest on her, demanding she come home to fix her drug problem as they saw it, telling her how she was wasting her life, her opportunities. More often than not, once the two-minute call was over, and Hades pressed the disconnect the girl would collapse to the floor crying. She sounded so sweet he was always tempted to make it worse just to feel the tears on his tongue.

"Why are you out here?" He asked standing over her. She didn't flicker or look at him. Dressed in dirty gray sweats too large they were rolled up at the ankle and a plain sweatshirt that masked any of her femininity but for a second as he looked down at her, Hades thought she really was a beautiful woman, with her fading bruises and haunted eyes.

"It's Christmas day," she responded quietly, gazing at the flames with a backdrop of snow behind her through the windows, it started falling several hours ago and hadn’t let up yet. She picked at a thread on the cuff of the sweatshirt, avoiding looking up at him as she always did.

He’d known what the day was, even for someone who didn’t participate it was fucking unavoidable. Some of his men had families, the club was empty this time of year, just how he liked it. Hades himself never marked the holiday, it was always a time for his father to spin his holy shit over everyone with his sanctimonious bullshit for the godly law he himself didn’t abide by. Bile gathered in his throat in remembrance of the beatings he received at that bastard’s hands because he dared asked if he could have a bike or a fucking meal. He could give a shit about whose birthday it was today.

"And?"

"I want to go home."

He shook his head. Unsurprised, it was a repeated statement she asked several times a week. He ignored her and took a seat opposite, her eyes flickered from the fire to him and back again. There were fresh scrapes on both knuckles and one on her neck. The girl had been having fun with his men while he’d been out of town. He could give them as many orders as he wanted to, but if he wasn’t around to play buffer they tended to get a little … rougher with his slave and what with the way she liked to throw out the sass every chance she got, it was a wonder she wasn’t purple all over.

“You know that isn’t going to happen, sweet love. But let’s address it once and for all, Hmm? ... one day, my sweet love, you'll look at me with adoring eyes, If I gotta continue to fucking break you, I will, piece by piece, you will surrender everything to me until there's nothing left except the shell of a fuck-toy and you'll thank me for it, for making you into something better, something that belongs to my club, that belongs to me and you’ll be glad you have your master."

A shudder like thunder went through her slim, undernourished body. Emotionally she was a wreck held together by sheer determination that one day she’d be free of him and of his club. He saw it clearly, how after every punishment she’d slowly knit herself back together strong enough to wage against him and that just had to stop, he wanted complete obedience. As it was, she rarely tried to run now, but that was not good enough for him, he wanted to own every fucking inch of her.

Why her? He didn’t know. Other women would easily be tameable, so breakable and weak they’d beg him, but until he’d seen this girl laid on his floor he hadn’t entertained enslaving anyone for his own purposes. Now he couldn’t think of anything else but rendering her reliant on only him for every goddamn breath she took, he wanted her to beg him to live and to sleep, for every morsel of food he allowed. He wouldn’t be wholly satisfied until he had it.

“Did you miss me while I was gone?”

Finally, he had a reaction out of her when she scoffed. “It was the best days of my life, you should have stayed away longer as my Christmas gift.”

He grinned amused, giving her a contemplative glance, leaning back in the armchair, fingers working the air in a rhythmic patter, watching her for a long uncomfortable minute, hers, not his, Hades enjoyed looking at what belonged to him, before he shrugged out of his jacket, he tossed it aside and spread his legs out in front of him. Oh, his sweet love did affect him in mysterious ways. He wanted to lap at the bruise on her chin and to ask where she hurt.

“Maybe you’d be interested to know I was in Boston for three days.” Her head reared up, eyes wide and open of emotion, unguarded for a short-lived second. It was a shot of electricity in his belly, Hades basked in the scared flash.

Yeah, sweet love, it’s what you suspect it is.Reaching into his jeans pocket, he brought out his cell phone and after tapping a few buttons he handed it over to her, she took it tentatively, making sure her fingers didn’t touch his. He didn’t mind, he’d be touching her soon enough, hopefully smelling her tears and anguish.

“Five pictures.” Her breath caught as her thumb scrolled. Back and forth. He allowed it. Gave her the silence and then something beautiful happened to cause a strike of heat inside Hades cold chest.

She looked up and two fat tears dropped down onto her cheeks. Her lower lip quivered.

“Why, you son of a bitch?”

The urge to hold her close came as a hot wave through his system until his fingers tingled. To experience her shudders for himself and to smell the salt of her crying on his chin as he soothed and made her cry at the same time.

She was utter perfection was his sweet love.

In his mind Hades flicked back the days, seeing vignettes of what the girl was gazing down at with despair shaking her fingers. He knew what she looked at; her father in his pricey Bentley driving to lunch. Her mother in the garden feeding the birds. The older couple walking together. Another of the mother inside their home and the last picture Hades saw in his mind was of the old man shaking hands with two other men from his office. Little slices of their lives perfectly captured and held now in the girl’s hands.

The power to hurt someone was not always in a closed fist. It came from the love they had for someone else.

This was her life now; not everyone gets one and while she continued to push back against his rules she was never fully accepting her situation. She held in her hand the leash to keep her in line.

“From now on when you flagrant my word, when you try to run, it won’t be only you who hurts.” His low authoritative tone impossible to disguise for anything other than it was; a command for her compliance. Taking back his phone, her whimper to keep it pleasing him. “Mom and dad seem like good people. Would be a pity to hurt them, sweet love. Kill them even, I think you don’t want that, even when daddy talks to you like you’re scum on the phone.”

“You’re a fucking monster.” She spat out softer than an angel’s voice, her eyes with more flames then he’d seen in months. His head inclined agreeing.

“Let me hear your agreement. No more running. What I say you’ll fucking follow.”

“You’re talking like I have a say.” The snow fell in harder sheets. The fire crackled. The girl turned bodily towards it, holding her fingers to the flames. “I hope you die very painfully one day.”

“Ask Santa, tis the day for it.” Hades counted and rose with a smile, satisfied his message was clear, he slipped the phone back into his pocket.

“And when that happens I’ll laugh.” Her scorn was giving him a hard on, his cock ached behind his zipper. Where the fuck had this cocky little shit come from suddenly? Was it the threat to her parents? Because if so he should have their heads delivered on a fucking platter, she’d go wild and he’d sip from her pain like a fine scotch. “I’ll be rid of you to get on with my life. To forget this nightmare. To—”

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