Sweet Hell (11 page)

This time she did undo the top buttons on her blouse, popping the tiny pearls through the satiny fabric holes.

Dionysus noticed. He chewed on his divine lip, then he uttered an oath. He dragged her down the first hallway. “Come on. The exit to this place is always changing. Let's try not to get too distracted while we look for it."

"Can't we just leave the way we came in?” she asked. As if she'd
want
to leave.

"This is Hades. You can't ever leave the way you entered. It's just one of the rules.” He looked down a massive hallway lined with closed doors, breathed deeply, and picked one.

And what a one he picked!

Josie stared, at a loss for words. The room itself was beautiful, trimmed in gold filigree, filled with sumptuous, rococo furnishings. There were beveled mirrors and antique silver candlesticks on ornamented bureaus. On each petal pink wall, there were artworks depicting lovers in heated embraces. These things alone would have been enough to steal her breath away.

Even if the room hadn't been the location for a colossal orgy.

There were nude bodies everywhere! Writhing on the four-poster bed. Splayed atop various chaises. Littering each spare inch of marbled floor. Naked, twisting men and women. Men with men with women. Women with women. And a couple of combinations Josie had never even glimpsed in her brother Angelo's poorly hidden porn magazines.

And as she took them in, feeling much like a frozen statue herself, they slowly started to raise their heads to look toward her and Dionysus. Everywhere around them were tempting faces, wet lips parted in lascivious smiles. Drowsy, drunken eyes appraising her. Liking her.

Wanting her.

And God help her, she realized she wanted them!

One of the men near them, a beautiful brute of a man who was currently occupied in having his dick sucked by another man, caught her eye. He raised his hand and beckoned to her with a finger. His friend raised his head, smiled at her, and called to her with a curling tongue, mimicking the other man's finger. And Josie was very much worried that if left to her devices, she'd go to them and do dreadful, wonderful things.

The most startling thing happened then. As she watched the various lovers, stretching and rolling over one another, their faces began to morph. Women and men alike. All magically growing dark, wavy hair. Their eyes turning brown, a penetrating mahogany. Noses straightening into the most noble nose she'd ever seen.

They were all becoming the image of Dionysus.

Even though he was still at her side, the sorcery of the place had put his face on everybody in the room. The one bending over that secretary desk, Dionysus. The one entangled with several other bodies in the corner, Dionysus. The one taking his turn fucking between three splayed sets of legs, Dionysus.

They were all him. And she'd never felt more turned on, seeing his face changed in the various stages of lust.

She felt a breeze against her front and looked down at her blouse. How had all the buttons come undone? She couldn't recall unbuttoning them herself!

And to think it would only take a few flicks of the wrist to discard all her clothing. The clothing that suddenly felt so scratchy and distasteful. As if she were wearing a dirty, old burlap sack.

"Come on, honey,” one man called to her in a voice like soft black velvet.
His
voice. “Take those things off. You don't need ‘em here."

She looked to the real Dionysus, feeling in need of some strength and guidance. However, he didn't look to be faring much better. His lips were pursed, and he was sweating. His gorgeous face was etched in pain, the pain of temptation. And he was gazing at her. As if
she
were the object of his lust. As if he very much needed to get
her
on that plush bed, the other bodies be damned!

Josie had the sinking feeling Dionysus might not be able to help her much in The Sinners. And then she remembered. Not only was he the god of wine, but his passion was orgies. She'd never been a fan of art, but all of a sudden, so many famous images sprang to mind. Paintings by the old masters portraying Dionysus, god of revels, entwined with his maenads. Dionysus, friend to satyrs, his cup of wine raised. Dionysus, original party boy. Wild man.

Sexual expert.

Geez, what could she possibly have to tempt him? Her, with her limited sexual experience. Sure, she'd been groped by a couple of horny boys in high school and had had one or two less than serious boyfriends since. Yes, she'd had sex. A few not so memorable times. Nothing earthshaking.

So, why was he looking at her as if she were a freaking goddess? It was enough to make her feel like one. A peculiarly decadent one who needed a certain itch scratched.

Oh, boy
. Was she going to have to be the strong one here? Or would they molder in this covetous place, Eurydice all but forgotten?

Dionysus swore. Several times. His face changed, and he pulled her from the room, even as the wanton horde of fake wine gods cried out for them. “Let's get you out of here,” he muttered.

But as he dragged her away, as they ran down a hallway that boasted even more rooms full of orgiastic inhabitants, Josie feared it was he as much as she who needed to be away from the lure of all that naked flesh.

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Chapter 9

"Where are you taking me?” she asked Dionysus as he yanked her back into the hallway. “Those folks back there seemed ... friendly. Maybe it's rude to run off so quickly. I mean, we didn't even get any of their names."

Damn the frustrating woman! He'd really hoped she wouldn't fall quite so quickly. Yes, there was a part of him that really wanted to throw her to the ground and fuck her senseless. An astonishingly big part of him, one that had been throbbing in agreement ever since he'd first laid eyes on her. But at the same time, there was another part of him who wanted to see her vanquish all the evils of this place. To somehow rise above them.

And yet, he'd seen it in her eyes. She'd been as tempted as he was. And he couldn't say he blamed her.

It would be so easy. To fall back into the depraved patterns that had made him a legend. To succumb to the siren song of The Sinners for a while, knowing that as a god, he could get out whenever he grew tired of the perpetual X-rated activity. But what about Josie? She was mortal, with mortal limitations. If he let her give in, he might not be able to get her back out again.

He looked down at her. All of a sudden, she seemed tired. She was sighing and rubbing her eyes. The action made her look even younger than her twenty-seven years. And despite the fact the naughty thing still hadn't buttoned up her blouse, exposing a good amount of soft waist and hip, he just wanted to take her somewhere and snuggle with her.

Snuggle. Him.

"Is it so wrong?” he murmured.

"Is what wrong?” she yawned, interrupting his protective, scattered thoughts. “Dionysus, I'm tired."

"Of course, you are, baby,” he whispered, drawing her in for a hug. “You've been to hell. Not quite back yet, but we'll get you there.” He kissed the top of her head, loving the fine texture of each golden hair against his skin.

She looked up, her pretty hazel eyes appearing so foggy, almost inebriated. The lids were heavy. Her lashes wanting to droop. Surprising him, she got up on tiptoe and kissed him on the mouth. A soft, sweet kiss that made him hunger for more, just the tip of her tongue flicking at his bottom lip.

She touched her lips. “Hmm,” she said drowsily. “Did you know you taste like a big grape? Your kisses are so good. Like wine. They make me feel drunk."

And hers seared him! Burned him through to his very core.

Who
was
this woman, that she had this debilitating effect on him?

She rested her head on his chest and spoke into his robe. “Can I just rest for a few minutes? Please."

He swept her into his arms and carried her down the hall. “Yes, Josie. I'll watch over you while you sleep.” If memory served, and if things hadn't changed too much in The Sinners, he recalled a quiet room somewhere at the end of the hall. They'd be safe there for a while.

"Thank you,” she whispered.

The simple sweetness of those two little words made him ready to take on all of Hades for her. That and a lot worse.

He hadn't even felt that for Ariadne. She'd been the most important woman in his life for years. No one had rivaled her in his affections. And yet, not once had he ever felt compelled to retrieve her from the bowels of Hades. He'd never gone to look for her in this place, had just assumed she'd moved onto a better plane. But the thought of losing Josie here scared him to death, which was saying a lot for someone who was basically death-proof.

He wanted to see Josie happy. Wanted to brush aside her hair from her face as she slept. Wanted to give her peaceful dreams of him making beautiful love to her. Needed to hear her sigh in ultimate satisfaction and joy. Somehow, he knew the sound of her sighing like that would nourish him for a thousand years.

He also wanted to find out who Sean was. He'd never heard her mention that name before. When she had, her voice bubbling with rage and regret, he'd wanted to wipe every memory of the mystery man from her mind. And replace those memories with ones of him instead.

Cold comprehension smacked him in the head.

By Hera's rectum! He was falling in love with his mouthy coffee girl!

A few minutes later, Dionysus was carrying Josie into the empty room at the end of the hall. Another room with lavish furnishings, gilt details, and soft, lavender upholstery. He marveled at the sights her brain was creating, for each person in Hades created their own environment. And man, for a woman who lived in sweatpants, her taste in fantasy rooms was distinctly girly!

Once they were inside, safe from the sexual throng whose pants and moans he could still hear, he closed the door. Facing it, he uttered an incantation that would ensure they were not disturbed.

Then he gently laid his womanly burden on the plush bed and lay down next to her. She surprised him by opening her eyes. He'd thought she was already asleep.

He ran a hand over her hair and smiled at her. “It's okay. You can rest now. We won't be disturbed."

Not for a while, anyway. They were in Hades, after all. Eventually, all beautiful things turned sour here. But he figured he had some time to see that she recharged.

Her lips parted in a small smile. She closed her eyes, breathed in and out a few times, then opened her eyes again. “What were those words you were whispering at the door?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, but couldn't stop grinning. “You should be resting, not asking nosy questions."

"I will but tell me what you said first."

He snuggled in closer to her, permitting himself to hold her hand. She didn't push him away. “Oh, it was nothing. A little spell, you could say, to make sure we're not disturbed."

"Do you ... cast spells often?"

"That makes me sound like a wizard. It's not quite the same thing. But yes, here and there, there are ancient words I can use to make things go the way I want,” he said. “I guess all gods use that power to make the little things in life easier."

She yawned again, but was clearly too interested in the topic to close her eyes. Stubborn thing that she was.

"But don't you think working through those little things is what makes us better people? You know, human?"

His smile fell away. She still thought he was too big for his britches. “I'm not human, Josie. Why should I have to waste my time struggling? Why should I walk from one side of town to another when I can snap my fingers and fly there?"

"Because you're missing the most important part of the journey,” she said simply. “I think in doing those routine things we learn a lot about ourselves."

"I've had eons to analyze myself, sweetheart,” he said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Trust me. I know everything I need to know."

"But isn't it kind of ... boring, living forever, and not working toward something?"

He permitted himself to think about it for a moment, until it made him uncomfortable. He'd never questioned the value of his own existence before. He was Dionysus. He just
was
. Always had been. Forever and ever. Amen.

No goals. No emotion. No regret.

"What about you?” he asked, deflecting her hard-hitting question. “You do the same thing every day. Don't you want to work toward something else?"

She stared at him for a second, then closed her eyes. She just lay there, head on the pillow, not saying a word. For a second, he thought she'd chosen that moment to fall asleep. But then she opened her eyes again, and spoke.

"I do have a goal,” she said quietly. “At least, I did. I wanted to open my own winery."

"A winery?” he asked, unbelievably tickled by the idea. Now there was an idea that appealed to him! “That's amazing. So, why aren't you doing it?"

Her face grew tight, as if remembering something that troubled her. “I was trying. I even went to the vintner's college in Niagara-on-the-Lake to learn all about it.” She looked up at him, her face animated now that she was talking about the college. “It was so amazing to take those classes. To be among people who had the same passion, to be learning from professionals who knew every grape inside and out. I was just gobbling up the information. Growing conditions, soil. I was even contemplating an exchange course that would have taken me to France to visit the Loire Valley. Vintner's college was everything I'd hoped it would be."

He frowned. “What happened? Did your love of cannoli take over?"

"My parents died. Well, my mom died when I was pretty young. But my dad went a few years ago. When he did, my brothers and I discovered he'd made a lot of bad investments over time. Owed a lot of money to people. Mike and Angelo just didn't have enough cash to pull through on their own. They'd only ever worked at the bakery with Dad, but never saw much of the profits. But I'd been working part-time while in school and had been saving hard. So, I gave them my savings to keep the family bakery afloat. There was no money left for college, and I've never been able to quite make it back."