Page 103 of Hex
Hack’s chuckle makes my whole body vibrate as he walks out of the shop. He barely makes it ten steps before he grabs my ass and squeezes.
“Do that invisible thing so I can fuck you right here and now.” The words are all so deep I have to strain to hear. It seems supernatural hearing isn’t a trait I have, which is both a blessing and a curse.
“Is that an order?” Lifting his jacket and T-shirt, I slide my hands over the flesh of his back, leaving light scratches across his skin.
“Yes.”
“And what if I don’t?” I love to push my chosen to his limits.
This time, Hack’s laugh is low. It’s gruff, and it’s a little evil, but it’s also all mine.
Forever and always.
Epilogue
Danika
“God-fucking-damn.” Waking up in the middle of my monophasic sleep—yes, I looked that shit up—because of yet another nightmare is eating away at what’s left of my sanity. It’s always the same thing; the high-pitched voices, the gagging, the pain…so much fucking pain. My dreams are different from the reality of what I went through, but my body remembers and I don’t think it’ll ever forget.
Rubbing my eyes with the heels of my hands, I press them hard, as if that’ll take away the shitty feelings. It hasn’t yet and it’s been almost four months since Sage found me in that creepy dollhouse bedroom.
A shiver runs up and down my spine and I decide to get up. There’s no way I’m going to go back to sleep now.
As I shuffle my way down to the kitchen from the fourth floor where my quarters are located, I thank the Moirai for giving us the luxury of never feeling a change of temperature. Ever since I turned thirty, I don’t get cold and I don’t get hot. I’m just always perfect.
“Mademoiselle, vous avez faim? Je peux vous préparer le petit déjeuner?” I’m startled by Josephine’s voice, even though I shouldn’t be. It’s like she’s always there when I wake up from my nightmares and, every time, she asks if she can make me breakfast. It’s become a comforting little ritual, if not a little creepy.
“I’m all good, thanks. I’ll just make myself some coffee.” I’ve barely finished my phrase—Josephine understands English perfectly and just refuses to speak it—when I see her rushing to the cupboard and starting the process for the Witch Coffee. When Sage told me about Trina and George, I got a little homesick and asked Desdemon to take me for a much needed visit to the Mystic T in Staten Island.
Apparently, the demon wives fell in love with the shop and shifted into other managers that don’t look like Sage and myself. That was also fucking creepy and I didn’t even get to see it.
Once I got there, I made sure to stock up on our favorite coffee, and ever since, Des has ensured I never run out.
Of course, I made sure he knew there was no way in Heyl I was missing Sage’s grand opening in Savannah, either. Unfortunately, the vampyre goons my brother hired to keep me safe were anything but discreet and that trip was cut way too short.
I think he feels guilty. I mean, everyone does, really. I’ve been stuck in Velmore for months, with only a few days here and there of freedom. The pre-dollhouse Danika would be lighting this place on fire and demanding to be let loose. This me understands the dangers—seen them first hand—and there’s no fucking way I’m going through all that again.
My hope was that looking for Loki’s sword would keep me busy, keep me focused and distracted with something important to all of us. However, hitting dead ends time after time has been disheartening and I don’t even know why we’re eventrying anymore. Des makes it a point to show up unannounced whenever we hear word of where Loki is hanging out, but I think the god of chaos needs to be distracted by a pair of tits. Even my feminist side gives zero shits. My biggest obstacle is convincing Des to let me leave the castle and venture out to the hidden corners of Loki’s world. Anything would be better than the constant night time of Velmore.
The thing I hate the most about this place is that it’s always dark. Always night time. Always fucking cloudy and on the verge of rain, although it never does. It’s like living in a perpetual hurricane warning at night, forever and ever.
So, of course, I learned to have long periods of sleep—monophasic—and long periods of being awake. It’s the only normal I have in this huge fucking castle straight out of a horror movie. Well, that and my coffee, so there’s that.
“Voilà, Mademoiselle.” I smile at Josephine but it doesn’t quite reach my eyes. She doesn’t ask questions, she wouldn’t. I’ve known her my whole life, she was my nanny when I lived in France with Des and my parents before I moved to New York for university. Josephine was beside herself when I left but she knew I needed to discover the world before getting my powers.
No one, however, guessed that I’d be kidnapped, tortured, and—
Stop those thoughts, they’re not healthy.
I smile, the voice in my head like a healing balm.
Elio, I haven’t heard from you in ages. Are you okay?
Whenever we speak—if that’s even the word for it—there’s a sudden comfort that overcomes me, and he always seems to communicate when I need him most. I don’t know Slash, not really, but his horse feels like a continuation of myself.
I miss my rider. And I’ll deny it always, but I miss his silly jokes.
I’ve heard that Slash is the carefree fuckboy of the four, and I have no doubts that he and I would get along great. Maybe even be each other’s wingkyn.
