Deviant Hearts: Chapter 18

I walk next to Ares in a daze as we head down the hall to the library where everyone is having pre-dinner drinks. My pulse is still thudding in my ears. My legs feel like spaghetti, and my ankles wobble in my heels.

I wince as I start to topple, my ankle almost twisting. Suddenly, his hand is there, entwining with mine, his other hand on my lower back to steady me.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” I shrug casually. “You?”

Ares glances at me, arching a brow. It’s like the Cold War we had all week, with neither of us wanting to be the first to suggest another round of Olympian, god-like sex to the other.

I smirk to myself.

Guess I won that one, seeing as he’s the one who just dragged me into the bathroom to fuck my brains out.

But now that the pressure valve has been released, and we’ve blown off that steam and sexual energy, it’s like we’re back to square one of yet another stalemate. Except this time, neither of us wants to be the one to say state the obvious: that whatever just happened back there was crazy good.

Absurdly good. Ruined-for-normal-sex-now good.

Ares shrugs. “I’m fine.”

“Cool.”

Cool? Ugh.

Just then, mercifully right before we get to the door to the huge Drakos family library and cocktails, we pass a big, gilded mirror hanging on the wall. I turn, and my face drops as I catch my reflection—which I apparently neglected to really and truly take in back in the bathroom while I was still in the throes of my post-orgasmic high.

I’m a mess. No, scratch that. I am a hot mess. In fact, I look like the poster child for “just got fucked silly in a bathroom”. Which, of course, is what I am.

Big yikes.

I stop short, pulling my hand from Ares’.

“Were you planning to let me walk into dinner with both of our families looking like this?!”

He grins, shrugging.

“Dick.”

“Again? So soon? Well, if you insist, but Ya-ya is really going to be pissed if we’re late for—”

“Oh my God, grow up,” I mutter, biting back a grin and forcing a scowl as I glare at him.

I pause in front of the mirror to fix my hair and pull a lipstick out of my bag.

“You go in first. I’ll be right there.”

“Sure.”

He leans in and kisses my cheek.

Both of us freeze.

I blink quickly. His brow furrows, his jaw clicking before he clears his throat.

“Yeah, see you in there.”

It’s not until he’s back in the library, door closed between us, that I exhale.

Like, seriously, what the hell is happening?

Quickly, I finish making myself not look like a club skank. When I turn to the door to the library, I pause.

I’m not ready for all that family chitchat yet.

So instead, I turn and click my heels down a different gorgeously decorated hallway of the extensive Drakos estate. I poke my head into a sitting room. And there, across the room near the window, I spy a fully-stocked bar cart.

Lovely.

I march over and pour myself a small glass of whiskey, neat. It’s not like I’m an alcoholic and I “need” a drink. But, I mean…right now…

I kinda need a drink.

The whiskey burns nicely as it goes over my tongue and down my throat. I shiver, exhaling slowly as I turn….and just about have a heart attack when I realize I’m not alone in the room.

Dimitra Drakos is sitting in a chair right next to the door I just walked through. She’s such a tiny, bird-like thing that I never even saw her.

“Oh! Hi!” I blurt.

The Drakos matriarch smiles at me, toasting me with the glass of wine in her hand.

I grin. “Looks like we both wanted a quieter drink than a whole cocktail party.”

She just smiles back, nodding. And suddenly, it occurs to me that the reason we haven’t really ever had a conversation, not even at the wedding, is that she doesn’t speak English.

I smile curiously at her.

“So, how’s your night going?”

The older woman grins and nods.

“Óchi tóso kaló óso esý. Allá aftó symvaínei giatí den me gámisan móno sto bánio ton episkeptón!”

Uh…

She chuckles, grinning at me and taking a sip of wine.

Right, so, that’s a no on the English.

“You…don’t speak English, do you?” I venture.

Dimitra smiles broadly, her face lighting up.

“English! Yes! New York! Okay!”

Then she nods to the chair against the wall next to her and pats it invitingly with her free hand. I grin, nodding as I walk over and sit down next to my grandmother-in-law.

“So, I’m your new granddaughter-in-law.” I arch my brows at her, smiling wryly. “Lucky you,” I add sarcastically. “Bet you didn’t have any idea what a headache I’d be for your grandson.”

She smiles, still nodding.

“You’re probably smiling because you think I’m going to fall in love with him and give you all lots of babies. But that’s just not going to happen. Sorry.”

Neither part.

Dimitra just keeps on smiling.

“I just had the most mind-blowing sex of my life in your guest bathroom with your grandson,” I blurt. “I mean, like wow type sex. Know what I mean?”

She smiles, nodding again.

I chuckle, grinning as I clink my glass to hers.

“Well, cheers, Dimitra.”

Suddenly, a large man pokes his head into the room: Kratos, the resident Drakos giant. His brows knit when he sees Dimitra and I sitting together, but then he smiles.

“Ready for dinner, Ya-ya? Étoimoi gia deípno?”

Dimitra sighs, standing and draining the last of her wine in one go.

I think she and I might just get along swimmingly. Even if her grandson is a grumpypants with an ego about as big as his…yeah.

She pats Kratos on the arm and walks out by herself. My brother-in-law turns to smile at me.

“Have a nice talk with Ya-ya?”

“Oh, fantastic.”

He grins as we both file into the library, where a huge table has been beautifully set, with everyone else already sitting around it. Eilish gives me a “where the heck have you been” look, and I fight back the blush that rises to my face as I take the only empty seat at the table—right next to Ares, of course.

Waiters bring out plates of food and pour wine. Suddenly, there’s the sound of a spoon clinking against a wine glass. When I look up, I raise a brow when I see Dimitra standing at the head of the table.

“Everyone quiet,” Hades grunts. “Ya-ya wants to give a speech.”

Callie, who’s sitting on the other side of me, giggles as she leans close.

“Oh man, Ya-ya loves her grand speeches.”

“You’ll have to translate,” I murmur at her before I turn as Dimitra clears her throat.

“I want to thank everyone from both families for being here tonight.”

It’s in perfect English.

Fuck. Me. Sideways.

“And I want to say, cheers to family, to the future, and…” She turns, leveling her eyes at me as I shrink, praying to all that is holy that I’ll melt into a puddle and seep through the cracks in the floor.

“To falling in love.”

She winks at me.

“And lots of babies, of course.”

She’s fucking with me.

“We’re so happy to welcome such a good girl like Neve into our home and our family, as wife to our dear Ares.”

Yep. She’s totally fucking with me.

Ares leans in, his mouth by my ear.

“Do you think she’d still think you were such a good girl if she knew you’d just been fucked against the bathroom wall with your own panties stuffed in your mouth?”

His lips tease my earlobe.

“Tell me,” he growls. “Can you still feel my cum deep inside you? Or is it already dripping down your—”

I keep smiling at the rest of the table as I shove my fist down towards his balls. But he stops me cold, his grip twisting my hand away as he shakes his head.

“I’m beginning to like it a little too much when you play dirty, dear.”

We all start to eat, when suddenly a chiming sound from a cell phone dings through the murmur of conversation.

Ares frowns, glaring at Hades as his younger brother winces and pulls a phone sheepishly out of his jacket pocket.

“No phones at the table, dummy,” Callie teases. “Ya-ya’s rules.”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” Hades mutters, shooting his grandmother a sheepish look. “Sorry, Ya-ya, I forgot it wasn’t on silen—”

His eyes land on his phone. And slowly, his whole face goes still.

“Hades,” Ares mutters. “Put the damn phone—”

“We need to turn on the news.”

The whole table looks confused as Hades lurches to his feet, glancing at Cillian.

Ares frowns. “Hades. We’re in the middle of—”

“Now, Ares,” Hades hisses, a cold look on his face.

He bolts across the room, pushing a button on a remote that slides one of the bookcases aside, revealing a flatscreen display behind it. The rest of us glance at each other nervously as we all get up and head over while Hades switches on the news.

A big news-network logo fills the screen and dramatic theme music plays underneath before a familiar anchor clears her throat and nods to the camera.

“Welcome back to the show. If you’re just tuning in, we’re about to go live to ADX Florence super-max prison in Freemont County, Colorado…”

Something inside of me tenses and goes ice cold.

“Where we’re about to bring you face-to-face, for the very first time since his incarceration, with the most dangerous man in America.”

Oh God.

No.

I feel a presence behind me. Stiffening, I swivel my eyes to the side and steal a glance over my shoulder to see a stern-faced Cillian glaring pure hate at the screen.

“Might be best if you didn’t watch…” he murmurs to me.

The screen cuts to another reporter. This one is sitting in a stark metal room, in a steel chair bolted to the cement floor. He looks nervous as hell, like Clarice Starling the first time she meets Hannibal Lecter.

The reporter clears his throat.

“Good evening. We’ve received special permission from the United States Justice Department to bring you this exclusive in-person interview with the most dangerous man in America…”

My eyes squeeze shut. I feel like I’m about to fall over. Suddenly, Eilish is right there next to me, her hand gripping mine and squeezing it tight comfortingly.

“Seamus O’Conor.”

The door behind the reporter swings open. My vision tunnels, blocking everything out around me until all I see is the two guards leading, in handcuffs, the bear of a man with the silver beard, long, silver hair, and look of pure evil glinting in his eyes as they suddenly snap up to stare down the barrel of the camera lens.

And right into my soul.

For the first time in fifteen years, even if it’s through a TV, I’m face-to-face with the monster.

My monster.

Hades whistles, shaking his head as the built older man onscreen has his manacles adjusted so he is cuffed to his chair, which is similarly bolted to the floor at a safe distance from the reporter’s.

“The Devil.”

Dimitra’s voice is cold and vicious, her eyes narrowed at the screen.

“Welcome, Mr. O’Conor,” the reporter launches into his interview on the TV. “Now, you were a contract killer for the Irish mob, is that right?”

My monster smiles widely, flashing white teeth set into a jaw that might even be handsome if it wasn’t pure evil.

“No. I was an artist.”

The reporter glances nervously at the camera and clears his throat again.

“Right. Of course. Well… One of the reasons we wanted to talk to you today is that even though there’s been public calls for you never to be released, it would appear you’re up for parole next month.”

It feels like my lungs have been ripped out. I choke, suddenly unable to breathe, and I falter, only being saved from actually falling to the floor by Eilish and Cillian.

What. The. FUCK.

I turn my head, my face pale and horrified as I meet my uncle’s eyes.

“Did you know?”

“No.” He shakes his head grimly, his eyes cold. “No, I did not.” He yanks his phone out before giving me a hard and yet comforting look. “I’m going to make some calls. Are you okay?”

I nod, swallowing. “I will be.” When I turn back to the TV, still squeezing my sister’s hand tightly, I catch Ares looking at me curiously. He frowns, but I pull my gaze away from him, back to the monster on screen.

“Now, Mr. O’Conor, if you are released, what will you do? Start fresh? Live a new life? I’m sure the fifteen years you’ve been incarcerated have given you plenty of time to think about—”

The monster starts to laugh. Quietly at first, then louder and louder, until he’s roaring a belly-shaking laugh and tossing his silver-maned head back. Even the hardened prison guards behind him look terrified.

They should be.

Slowly, the monster stops laughing. He chuckles, wiping a tear from his eye before his gaze snaps directly again to the camera.

“If I were to be released,” he growls in his thick Irish brogue. “The very first thing I would do is go after the cockroaches who put me in here.”

The interviewer frowns.

“Uh, Mr. O’Conor, I think what I meant was—”

“I’d cut the throat of every. Single. Fucking—”

“Mr. O’Conor, please—”

“—Kildare out there.”

The library goes silent. And I can feel the eyes of the entire Drakos family slowly swiveling to stare at Eilish and me. Castle moves closer to me, his face grim.

On the TV, Seamus’ lips curl into a demonic smile right into the camera.

“And I’d start with you,” he growls, smiling right at me, as if he can fucking see me through the news station camera lens.

“Yes, you,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you’ve grown up, Neve.”

I choke, my heart climbing into my throat.

“What the fuck is this,” Ares snarls, whipping his gaze to me, a look I can’t quite read in his eyes as they stab into me. I look back at him, mute, helpless.

“Yes… If these idiots are generous enough to let me out,” Seamus chuckles quietly, “I’m coming for you, Neve.” His smile grows wider, and toothier, and his jaw clenches tightly.

And then it happens. So fast that everyone in the cell and watching the TV actually jumps.

Seamus roars, flexing his full strength against the cuffs. They hold, but the chair they’re attached to doesn’t. The metal whines and snaps as the arms of the chair break off, still attached to his wrists. And suddenly, the live feed is pure carnage.

He whirls, using one of the pieces of the metal chair arm handcuffed to his wrist as a weapon, smashing it into the reporter’s horrified face. He whirls again, swinging it into one of the guard’s necks, sending blood splattering across the wall before he smashes his fist into the second guard’s face.

Sirens go off. Lights flash red in the background as Seamus turns, hulking and grinning demonically. He grabs the camera off its tripod, lifting it wildly to his leering, grinning face until his image fills the screen.

“I’m coming for you, Neve,” he chuckles, eyes slicing right into my heart. “And I’m going to make you fucking bleed.”

The shot widens and jerks crazily as he moves the camera away from his face. Then the door behind him smashes in, and a legion of riot cops comes crushing inside, wrestling Seamus to the ground before suddenly the camera cuts out.

The library goes silent.

My vision blurs.

And then I faint.