Ancients Reborn: The Gods and Goddesses Greece (Raivh and Blair1216)

[Blair1216]

Scarlet's eyes watched as he disappeared into the hall, not moving an inch until he was gone. She could not decide if she stayed still out of fear, or shock. Her latest encounter with Preston left her deep in confusion, teetering on the fine like of believing she misunderstood his vile behavior, or sorely underestimated it. His haunting, emerald green eyes still held that same dark, dangerous quality, but within it, there was a mysterious depth begging her overly curious, stubborn personality to search further.

Several moment's after Preston's departure, Scarlet reached a shaking hand up to her mouth, feeling the slight sting of his touch still on her lips. It was frightening how gentle he was, caressing her like she was made of fine china, when just the night before, he was the one to give her the nasty marks that tainted her ivory skin. A feeling inside of her stirred at the way he touched her, for being sheltered her whole life, she had never had the chance to let a man touch her so intimately. Where his fingers brushed against her skin, it burned in a way Scarlet was not accustomed too. How horridly ironic, she thought, for her first intimate encounter to be with a man who also gave Scarlet her first abusive one as well. It just proved her mother wrong. The world was not black and white, good or bad. There were grey areas along with grey people; people who could be another's worse nightmare while puling them in with seductive temptation.

With a slow shake of her head, Scarlet tried to rid Preston's image from her mind, looking into the fire and review his words. Not only was Persephone was Hades' wife, but she was his unwilling lover. As Preston said, he stole her innocence and everything she loved. The thought made goose bumps form on her skin. Looking into the crackling fire, the only source of light in the room, she took note to the lack of coincidence that she was very much a virgin. No one, especially a man, had ever touched her nether regions except for herself. And even then, it was while she lay in her own bed, alone in the late hours of the night, or in the bath tub with the door locked. She would spread her lower lips with her slender fingers and rub soft, slow circles on her swollen clit, admitting a decent orgasm that would release her stress for a moment, then make her blush the next.

Swallowing nervously, Scarlet stood from the arm chair she was paralyzed in with the intent on going to her bedroom and locking the door behind her until the morning, but a small book shelf caught her eye. Narrowing her navy blue eyes, she took a hesitant step toward it, peering at the binds of the book to read the titles. Only a few were in English, but one in particular caught her eye, its title reading in gold script, "Ancient Greek Gods and Goddess". It was very vague, but it held promise. It's title was general enough to instill hope in Scarlet that it had information on Persephone and that Preston simply forgot about the small collection of books in the downstairs sitting room. After all, it was a large residence.

With a shaking hand, Scarlet lifted the book from the shelf, taking a small breath of air to blow the dust off of its pages. Considering the way the royal blue color of the leather cover had faded and collected an impressive amount of dust, Scarlet imagined it went quite some time without being touched, years even. She went back to her arm chair and sat with her legs crossed beneath her, flipping through the book's index. With a few quick flips of the pages, she stared at an image of Persephone, sitting amongst a field of flowers. On the page opposite of it, there were a few lengthy paragraphs with the title, "The Story of Persephone, Goddess of the Underworld" hovering above it.

Leaning against the arm of the chair, her chin resting in her hand and her other hand holding the book in her lap, Scarlet began to read, letting her blue eyes scan the pages of the book. With each word of Persephone's story, Scarlet's stomach tightened, making her bite her lip out of habit. The clock read well past three in the morning, but Scarlet failed to notice. She turned the pages in a fury, images of Hades and Persephone created by different artists over time illustrating her sad fate. Yet, it was not the story that frightened Scarlet the most, but it's similarities to herself. Despite her being a virgin, Persephone was also guarded by an extremely protective mother, never letting her have the independence she craved. The way they described the goddess, the woman that Scarlet stared at in the mural on the ceiling of the fourier, was chillingly similar to Scarlet's own life. With this information uncovered, she willed herself to keep looking through the book, finding images of Hades and other God's and Goddess'. The information was all overwhelming, but fascinating, and within a couple hours, Scarlet was asleep.

When the sun had risen over the manor, Scarlet was curled in the arm chair, fast asleep. Legs over one arm of the chair, her blond air fanned at on the other arm, she was unaware of her surroundings and the fast approaching day. Her face held a peaceful, innocent quality with her eye lashes brushing her pink cheeks, and the book that she was reading had long fallen to the floor, it's pages creased and ruffled from the position it laid in.

 

[Raivh]

Once out of sight and up the stairs, Preston clenched his hand into a tight fist. The way she’d looked at him, not speaking, just breathing, when he touched her in a gentle manner was bothersome. Her blue eyes had held too much of a familiarity, one that he found left him teetering over a most unpleasant edge overlooking a deep ravine. He couldn’t get that close to her again and keep himself collected. It was easier for him to reach out and strike her than to caress. The door to his bedroom closed with a light thud and he slipped out of his clothes, flipping off the light. As his mind stewed over what had just happened downstairs, he found himself staring straight up at the ceiling above his bed. There was a mural there as well, shadowed in the lack of light, but still visible was the artist’s portrayal of Hades.

The man did not bear a pair of horns or a forked tail, nor was he disfigured in any way. His jaw was strong, his mouth molded into a straight, firm line, and his green eyes bore witness to his hatred and unforgiving nature. Still, he was tall, his shoulders thrown back, arms folded behind him and chin tipped up in an almost arrogant manner. Looking further into the picture, behind Hades sat a woman, and draped about her shoulder was a garb of purest white silk, embroidered with gold. On her head was a crown, and on her left hand a ring. Preston furrowed his brow and gritted his teeth, shifting his attention back to the man.

“You damned yourself when you fell in love with her, but I won’t make your mistake. I refuse to relive the past and take a woman who isn’t content to stay more than four months out of the year in my chamber,” Preston growled, ignoring Cerberus who lay on the floor dreaming, running in his sleep. It wasn’t more than an hour before Preston drifted off, but his slumber was restless, and he woke early in the morning when the sun was just rising against the mountain scenery outside his bedroom window.

Sitting up in bed, he glanced around. Cerberus was already up, nose pressed to the crack at the bottom of the door, whining. “Shut up,” Preston snapped and the dog stopped immediately. Large brown eyes locked on Preston, a huff of a breath leaving black nostrils as Cerberus plopped down on his rear, watching as his master stepped out of bed to dress. Adorning himself in a pair of worn jeans and a dark gray sweater, he left the room to descend the stairs. Silenced footsteps led him down the hall, and from the corner of his eye he caught sight of her. Clamping his jaw together, he paused, not of his own volition, but because something deep inside commanded him to. His green eyes roved over her, taking in her sleeping form and the innocence that graced her soft features while she slept. Chest tightening, he hadn’t noticed he was moving until he was already in the room with her, looming behind her head and looking down at her. He licked his lips.

A muscle in his jaw flexed and he swallowed, reaching a hand out and gently grasping a few strands of her blonde hair. Without thought, he leaned down and breathed in what he decided right then and there was a most delicious fragrance. Then he snapped back to reality, back to himself. His brow furrowed and a look of disgust came over his features. Bending over, he picked the book up from the floor and scanned his eyes over the title. Sudden anger seared through his veins, though he’d told her the story of Hades and Persephone the night before. Stalking over to the fire, unaware of how much of the book she’d already read, he stoked the chilled embers and brought them back to life, adding another log along with the book for the fire to consume. When he returned to where she slept, he grabbed her by the wrists and jerked her forward, his face mere inches from hers.

“Was it not enough for you to know the story of Hades and Persephone, of how he stole you away in ancient times and kept you locked up, that you had to go snooping for more information?” he bit out, nostrils flaring. Her scent seeped into his senses, and he jerked away, throwing her hands back at her. Without another word, he strode toward the exit and into the hallway, turning to head for the kitchen. He opened cabinets with a fury, slamming them shut when he didn’t find anything appetizing. No matter what he did or thought about, her image was always there, overwhelming all else, branded into his mind despite his strong detestation of it. Stepping back, his foot crunched down on a can, the very same Scarlet had thrown down on the ground the night before, and the pressure was enough to make it explode. Red soup spattered everywhere, and Preston felt his anger quickly reaching dangerous levels.

 

[Blair1216]

Through out the night, Scarlet barely moved, too deep in her dream to toss and turn. It was an odd dream that only consisted of Preston and herself. She sat in a field of wildflowers, shades of purple and red surrounding her. The sky was bright, and the weather was beautiful. Scarlet had never witnessed anything quite as wonderful. It was simply the essence of spring, and the only thing she remembered being upset about was the fact that she was the only person there to witness it, left alone with its beauty.

Looking around, Scarlet stood up and looked around, only seeing the flowers for miles and miles. A white, thin dress was the only thing that hung on her curves, flowing to the ground and floating about her in the wind. It left one shoulder bare, yet her long blond hair draped across it, shining in the sun. Eyebrows furrowed, she noticed a figure in the distance that she did not see before, moving closer and closer. It was Preston, his green eyes holding his familiar essence of mystery, smiling and reaching out to her. He didn't say a word, his uncharacteristic smile inviting her to take his hand. When she didn't, he chuckled, shaking his head at her foolishness and simply opting to caress her face. His fingered grazed her face with the same intensity it did the night before, leaving her with a burning sensation that made her close her eyes in pleasure. How someone could give her such pleasure with a simple touch, she hadn't the slightest idea, but at the moment, she didn't care. Opening her blue eyes, she saw him give her a smile, then let his hand slide down her cheek, the nape of her vulnerable neck, shoulder, arm, and right into the palm of her hand. Without a single word or movement in protest, her soft hand closed around his large, callosed one.

Walking ahead of her, Preston gripped her hand and led her through the feild of flowers. She followed willingly, her dress flowing behind her, and it was not for miles that she realized with each step she took, the flowers wilted and the sky darkened. Her eyes started to dart around her with panic, and all he did was turn and look over his shoulder, throwing her a calming smile, urging her to continue following to the unknown. She did, finding herself unable to let go of his warm hand.

Soon, the sky was dark and streaked with heavy, grey clouds. The tempature dropped immensely, leaving her teeth chattering and moving closer to him, holding on to his arm to feel the warmth that his body admitted. All he did was smile, and his footsteps grew faster. Before long, her bare feet were growing numb, for she was no longer walking along a field of flowers, but landscape of snow. The icy flakes were coming down quickly, covering her golden hair in it's powdery white substance and leaving the air around them too thick to look farther than a few feet in front of them. She shivered, and Preston lifted her into his arms, carrying her to his detination without a pausing for a moment. Holding on to him, she pressed herself to his larger frame, feeling herself warm against his skin. With every heavy step he took, she heard a scream echoing through the atmosphere, coming from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Lifting her head from Preston's shoulder, Scarlet's blue eyes searched with a worried expression, realizing that it was not just a scream, but her mother's voice, begging her to come back.

"Preston," Scarlet said, her voice barely heard over the howling of the wind. "Preston, take me back. Please." She begged him to release her, to return her to her worried mother. As the screams grew louder, filling with sorrow and worry, Scarlet tried to release herself from his grip to no avail.

His head turned to her, and his eyes flashed with something dangerous. The quality they held was the same thing Scarlet saw when he threw her to the floor in his bedroom; an anger to made Scarlet immediately go still and clamp her mouth shut.

"Too late," was all Preston said, his voice deep and holding little emotion. He continued on, trudging through the snow like it didn't effect him at all. She coward in his arms, holding on to him in order not to freeze to death. Finally, after miles and miles, the reached large opening in the earth. It was dark, yet warm, and the farther they climbed into it, the more her mother's screams were drowned out by the screams of millions, their desperate begging filled with pain and sorrow. It only to a moment for Scarlet to realize that the voices seemed to get louder at the presence of Preston. However, he either did not hear them, or paid them no attention.

Once beneath the earth, their surroundings too dark to make anything out and forcing Scarlet to cling to him out of fear, the entered a set of tall, large double doors that led to a bedroom. It was windowless and nearly empty, only being occupied by bed of black satin sheets. With little effort, Preston tossed her to the middle of it, and in a flash, he was over her. He smirked at her, as if amused by the panic in her blue eyes, and grabbed her chin with the same amount of force that had left bruises on her slendor jaw a few nights prior. His face darkened, the muscles in his strong jaw tensing.

“Was it not enough for you to know the story of Hades and Persephone, of how he stole you away in ancient times and kept you locked up, that you had to go snooping for more information?”

Scarlet jerked awake, her breathing quickened by the sudden panic of being pulled up b her wrists. Her eyes snapped open, and she nearly screamed at seeing the very face she dreamt of being above her just moments ago. His words confused her until she realized the book was no longer in her lap.

Before she could protest, he jerked away, as if he had been shocked by a jolt of electricty. The way his face curled in disgust left her feel selfconscious, and she looked down at the floor until he had stalked out of the room. Her plan was to stand up and flee for the stairs, giving him enough time to rummage downstairs while she dressed for breakfast in the dining hall where people would be surrounding them, not leaving her alone with him. But, of course, at the sound of the soup can exploding in the kitchen, her curiosity got the better of her. She slowly stood up and the only sound that could be heard was her bare feet padding across the hard wood floor. When she say the tomato soup splattered all over the kitchen, she raised an eyebrow, standing in the door way.

Watching his angry expression, Scarlet knew right away it was an awful idea for her to have followed him. With a hesitant step forward, knowing that retreating was no longer an option, she bit her lip and picked up the crushed can. With a wrinkled nose, she tossed it in a nearby trash can and grabbed a towel from the counter. Gently, she ran it under cold water and run it out before leaning down and wiping it from the floor, then where it landed on the refridgerator.

Disgarding the soiled towel and looking up at him with her round, sapphire eyes, Scarlet gave him an stoic expression. "While I apologize about the soup can," she muttered, her voice stubborn as she remembered throwing it to the floor the night before. "I refuse to apologize for reading a book that was left for anyone to look at it. Afterall, I was only reading my own history. Why should I feel guilty about reading it? That story involved me as much as it does you."

 

[Raivh]

Standing there in the kitchen, a counter behind him and in front of him, his hands coiled into tight fists at his sides, Preston leered at her when he heard her footsteps still in the doorway. Her raised eyebrow look sent a flash of white-hot spiraling down his spine, back up, and out his mouth in a flurry of curses. When she stepped forward, he clamped his mouth shut, though his burning green eyes remained fierce and locked on Scarlet. He observed her as she drew nearer to him with each step, as she bent and picked up the can, and as she pitched it into the trash. It hit the bottom with a hollow thud, and Preston forced his teeth tighter together, the pressure causing the tendons holding his jaw shut to twitch. His vision was beginning to cloud over with his escalating rage as water flowed freely from the tap, spilling into and splashing against the sides of the silver basin.

After she’d finished cleaning the tomato mess from the floor and refrigerator, and tossed the towel aside, their eyes met again. Green ire flamed in his glare, chest broadening as he drew a deep breath into his lungs and held it, listening to her speak. He didn’t care for her apology. Apologies were useless, changed nothing. The look of revulsion on his face at her state fact was quickly followed up by the sound of her small body being thrust into the edge of a counter. Pinning her there without regard to any of her previously sustained injuries, he grabbed her by the upper arms.

“That ‘story’ involves neither one of us. It involves the past, one that I don’t want to repeat,” he snarled. Staggering his feet, he shifted, unconsciously bringing his body in contact with hers, their frames aligned. The hard planes of his muscled chest and stomach met with hers, soft, plush, the body of a woman that gave so easily against his weight. His hips pressed into hers with a force to be reckoned with, driving her lower back hard into the counter. Unintentionally, his tongue flicked out, wetting his lips, dry and cracked from being out in the biting winter wind. Powerful hands steadily began to increase their grip on her arms, fingers clamping down, biting into the flesh beneath her thin sweater.

Despite his best attempts, or perhaps his worst, the feeling of Scarlet’s young body aligned full-length to his towering frame affected him. The zipper on the front of his jeans began to strain against her as his green eyes swept over her face. “The fact that you are the reincarnated Persephone doesn’t matter to me,” Preston snapped viciously, teeth practically bared in a snarl as he began to pull away, to put distance between them. His nostrils were flared, her scent seeping deep into his lungs, burning the intricate tissue and branding it into his memory. Expelling a huge breath in an attempt to force her scent from his nose, he shoved her aside.

“You’re a tenacious, insolent woman, and I want nothing to do with you.” Shuffling toward the door, having lost his appetite, he cast a glance back in her direction. His eyebrows shadowed his darkened green eyes, hatred for the woman before him sharper than daggers. “And you should want nothing to do with me. I could break you, and you look so very fragile.” Sneering, he vanished and stalked toward the stairs just as Dr. Haskell was stepping down from the bottom step. He gave Preston a questioning glance, but the bitter man didn’t turn his head to respond. Entering the kitchen, Dr. Haskell looked over at Scarlet with a crease between his eyes and a concerned expression pasted over his wrinkled countenance.

“Are you alright, my dear?” he asked, stepping closer to examine the bruises on her cheeks and jaw. “He didn’t hurt you again did he?” Shaking his head, the professor moved off to open a cabinet and pull out a box of cereal. He set it on the counter before going to retrieve a gallon of milk from the fridge, followed by two bowls and spoons, which he set on the counter. “Are you hungry? Why don’t we have something to eat?” Cereal pelted the bottoms of the glass bowls with light clinks as he filled them, glancing behind him once to Scarlet.

 

[Blair1216]

Scarlet swallowed, unmoving and holding herself up against the counter he restrained her against. Nothing could explain what coursed through her veins, burning through each pump of her blood. She clenched her jaw, trying to ignore the pain that she felt on her lower spine from being pressed against the corner of the granite countertop, and looked at the door way he walked out of. Paying no attention to the elderly Dr. Haskell, she just stared, and with every sound of a piece of cereal hitting the bottom of the bowl, something rose inside of her like steam from a bowling pot of water. Of course, it wasn't just his harsh words or disregarding the way he was physically hurting her, but the way it cruelly combined with the feeling she received from his body pressed into her's. It was like fire coming in contact with ice, and it left a spreading blush of red across her chest and cheeks.

It took her a moment to realize she was angry, not for his actions alone, but the way he managed to talk to her like he had authority over her. Preston's controlling behavior reminded Scarlet of the way her mother forbid her from a life outside of the one she provided for her, and it made her snap. Her small fists clenching at her sides, she walked after him, not thinking of the consequence. This man was everything she hated, controlling, violent and hateful, yet she followed him, her blue eyes turning icy for the first time.

Ignoring Dr. Haskell's pleas for her to stay and calm down, Scarlet stalked across the living room, running a hand through her blond hair that remained messy from sleeping in the arm chair, and headed for the stairs. By this time, she could see he was heading toward his wing of the manor, and she went after him, her eyes burning into his back. With every step she took, she gained a stubborn stupidity that felt like courage, telling her she was doing the right thing in not letting him get away with it this time. He might just knock her unconscious, give her another bruise or a bloody lip, but atleast he would know that he wasn't breaking her down. In fact, he was poking at a fire within her that she didn't know existed.

When Scarlet reached Preston, he was already opening his bedroom door. From where she stood, she could still see her blood on the carpet, and it gave her a twinge of fear that she failed to feel on the way up the stair case. It made her look up at the back of his head before making her presence known, and all she could see was her dream unfold in front of her from the last night. A flash of the image of following behind him fled her mind, the flowers wilting around them, and Preston throwing a calm smile over his shoulder to lure her into continuing their journey.

Before she knew what the Hell she was doing, Scarlet placed her hand on his shoulder and pushed him against the door frame with a thud. She wasn't sure that her delusional bravery was what caused the sudden strength, or if she had caught him by suprise that much with her presence. His back against the door frame, Scarlet reared her hand back, bringing it down with a slap that echoed through the halls of the manor and leaving his cheek with a dark pink streak. Her blue eyes burning into his emerald ones, Scarlet had never experienced such a feeling of silence. It was a quiet feeling that said it all; that it was merely the eye of the storm.

"Do you really think I want to be here?" Scarlet whispered, her voice low and shaking. "Do you really think I would rather be HERE with YOU than at home with my mo- No! Not my mother! Not home! I got an acceptance letter to my dream college. I was supposed to have a life and escape the fact that my mother never let me have one! And here you are, talking to me like I am inconveniencing you! Well, fuck you! Fuck you!"

Not realizing how loud she was getting, Scarlet stood right in front of him, so close that her breasts brushed against his broad chest, and she had to look straight up to see his face. The muscles in her neck twitched violently, and her face grew pink with rage. A warm feeling flushed over her as she felt his body heat against her, and it only made her angrier.

"You don't want anything to do with me? Well, who said I wanted anything to do with you?" she said, her head shaking as she took a step back. She felt dizzy, not being able to recall a time that she had exploded in such a way. Her emotions were practically spilling down the hall, and she was suddenly very aware of how idiotic she was for not following Dr. Haskell's advice.

 

[Raivh]

The buzzing in his head was resounding, so loud he could barely hear anything, but he could still feel. And when he felt her hand, small and warm, grab a hold of him, the already white-hot blaze of fury engulfed him and thrust him over the edge into a dark, dangerous place that had only been tapped twice in his life. His black pupils dilated to small pinpoints against the storm in his eyes, the irises surrounded by defining rings of darker green. Nostrils flared the moment he jerked his head to her hand as she brought it back, preparing to strike, but he didn’t so much as grunt when her smooth palm collided openly with his cheek. Despite the bright red hue, the mark where she’d slapped him didn’t sting or ache or throb. When the calm of the storm hit, he remained silent, staring down at her without blinking once, his brow twitching but not furrowed.


Her words didn’t register, not at first, but the moment they started to sink in, he clenched his hands into fists and his knuckles blanched. His brow fell to shadow his eyes, and his glare echoed the flames that licked up from somewhere deep within. Gradually, his breathing became hot explosions of air, the pent up tension swirling and building, growing more intense with each passing second and each word she accosted him with. She stepped back. He remained where he stood, leering at her as the corners of his mouth began to curve into a malevolent smile.

With impossible and uncharacteristic control, he advanced a step toward her, followed by a second that had him towering above her and bowing his head just to look her directly in the eyes. The wicked smirk had vanished from his features, leaving him with a rather vacant expression that emanated as much ice as it did fire. Every move he made was slow, even the tilting to the left of his head, the manner in which he lifted his hands and slid them under her arms, thumbs digging into a portion of her breasts. His head followed her body, watching her face as he hoisted her into the air. Both of his biceps were strung tight, straining against the dark gray sweater he wore. When he had her at eye-level, he paused, holding her there, just looking over her face.

“Who?” he asked, and his eyebrows knitted together. The voice that spilled from his lips was foreign, not entirely his own. He chuckled. Around them, the atmosphere grew eerily silent before he crushed his body against hers, sandwiching her between the wall beside his door and himself. “Scarlet, your face—your body—they give you away. Your words are hollow, and just as Hades’ soul craves his Persephone, your body—your soul, part of which is Persephone’s soul—is burning for my touch, Hades’ touch.” A muscle in his jaw jumped, and he slid away just enough to ease her to the ground. With his right arm pressed below her bust, restraining her against the wall, his left came up, and his palm caressed her cheek, calloused fingertips gliding under her chin.

“I felt the flare of heat in you, much like I can feel the furnace of hell burning constant and close,” he growled, turning her chin up to face him. His eyes were locked with hers, daring her to avert her gaze as his lips drew closer to hers, stopping less than a half inch away. Jamming his jeaned knee between hers, he pressed the muscled length of his thigh against the hidden source of warmth her thighs. Again, his chest began to heave, his breath spilling over her lips in hot, explosive streams. He jerked his head back and he looked down, jaw set, as the hand he’d been using to hold her face in place pulled her attention down with his own.

No longer keeping her pressed against the wall with his right arm, that hand brushed over her stomach before he shifted his weight, bringing his leg back to put more distance between them. “Don’t,” he bit out, fingers sliding into the waist of the jeans she’d fallen asleep in the night before. “Tempt.” Green eyes scorching into hers, he gave a solid tug and the rivet holding the bronze button snapped, leaving only the zipper to be undone in one, smooth swipe. “The devil inside.” Long fingers slid inside, burrowing beneath her panties, and stroked over her soft outer folds as someone approached them from behind.

“Preston.” It was another male’s voice. The tip of Preston’s middle finger barely penetrated before he retracted his hand and stepped away, disappearing behind the closed door to his room. A tall, lean man was revealed to Scarlet, and his eyes slid over her face. “You must be Persephone. Few have been able to push Preston that far into his anger.” Clearing his throat, he glanced away. “My name is Isaac. I live just down the hall. Are you alright?”

 

[Blair1216]

Scarlet was stunned, her skin tingling. She swore she felt her heart stop, not being able to let her brain register what had happened. Her eyebrow furrowed and she stood still where he left her, lost in the burning sensation he left over her. It was as if she just stepped out of a hot bath, her skin red and steaming. Looking down, she quickly tugged her shirt down over her broken jeans button, biting her lip intensely. The most confusing aspect of the encounter, leaving her completely dumbfounded, was that she was not mad... Not at Preston, anyway. She was not angry at what he had started, violating her most private area, but the fact that she had no intention of stopping him.

Head jerking up, Scarlet realized she was being spoken to. Blue eyes laying on Isaac, a man she had yet to meet in the manor, she reached up and tucked a piece of loose hair behind her ear and began to blush. It took her a moment to push herself off the wall, her legs feeling like gelatin, and compose herself long enough to acknowlege his presence.

"My name is Scarlet," she corrected, standing up and crossing her arms over her open jeans in a nervous way. "Not Persephone..."

With that, Scarlet gave him a little smile, her blue eyes flashing up at him and the dimple in her right cheek slightly noticable. Walking closer to him, she nodded toward Preston's door and arched an eyebrow. The way he worded how she rose an anger out of Preston that no one else has managed made her feel like an outcast of the manor. It definitely confirmed her suspicions that the other inhabitants talked amongst themselves about her unfortunate arrival.

"I apparently have a knack for getting a rise out of him," Scarlet reluctantly agreed. With that, she rose a hand to her neck, hiding a particularly nasty bruise out of sudden insecurity. Looking at the floor, she adverted her gaze from his eyes. "And yes, I'm okay. I think."

With her blue eyes glued to the floor, Scarlet's mind wandered around the images of the way Preston looked at her. It wasn't anger. Infact, she didn't know what it was, but she knew it reflected in her own eyes, and she knew that he did not have to restrain her in order to let him press his body to her's. It sent shivers down her spine to think of his muscled thigh between her legs, pressing into the growing heat that resided there. The amount of disappointment she felt flooding through her body as he withdrew his hand repulsed her, and it made her stomach twist. His words echoed through her head, and she knew he was correct. Something deep within ached for him, despite his cruel actions and hostility. Past the bruises, the injured elbow, the sore jaw... Her body ached for his, and she knew that despite how much it disgusted her, she'd keep following him. Just like in her dream, she would walk right behind him, blindly lured into Hell.

Looking up and out the window, Scarlet's eyebrows furrowed. For some reason, she could not manage to remember how long she had been in the manor. How many days was it? Or was it longer that just a few days? She shook her head and looked over at Isaac.

"What's the date?" she asked, her voice soft and innocent once again.

 

[Raivh]

Isaac’s soft brown gaze returned to Scarlet when she spoke, and he nodded, committing her preferred name to memory. The bright glint in her blue eyes tripped him up, and he furrowed his brow, angling his face more toward her, looking at her more intently. She was a gorgeous young woman. He didn’t have ponder a great deal as to who had bequeathed her with the dark bruises that littered such a beautiful complexion. Only one man’s name came to mind, and Preston had just locked himself away in his room, not likely to be heard from for the rest of the day. He would come out at night to lurk about the manner, no doubt. Isaac had never understood Preston’s mannerisms, his bitter personality or his abusive and destructive ways. The woman standing before Isaac, as he now knew to be Scarlet, wouldn’t last long around Preston; she appeared too delicate, and Preston was a rough man, impossible to get along with.

Her question echoed in his ears and Isaac quirked his eyebrows, shaking thoughts of Preston out of his mind and freeing his conscious for lighter topics. A warm smile spread over his lips, lighting up his chocolate-colored eyes. “Today is December 23. Can you smell all of the food preparations for tomorrow evenings party? I hope you enjoy fine wine and champagne. I would love to share a drink with someone as lovely as you, Scarlet.” It had been a while since the rebirthed soul of Eros had conversed so comfortably with a woman. His own destined mate had yet to arrive, and he wasn’t entirely sure when she would show up, or if she was even born yet. Or if every relationship in the house wound up being the same as they had in the past.

Standing in silence for a moment, Isaac’s gaze flitted to the open front of her jeans. His face darkened and a lump formed in his throat, heart speeding up. “You should go change,” he stated, turning from her. He cast a friendly smile back over his shoulder, ears bright red with embarrassment. “And I would stay away from Preston if he leaves you with nothing but bruises and pain. Nothing will change his ways. Nothing ever has.” Wandering down the hall, he turned down the stairs, meeting Dr. Haskell as he hurried up them. The old man looked as if he was losing his mind.

“Oh, Eros,” he panted, placing a hand on the railing. “Have you seen young Miss Persephone?”

“You mean Scarlet?”

The professor nodded, “Yes, Scarlet. Have you seen her?” Nodding, Isaac pointed the man in the direction he needed to go, mentioning something about Preston’s violation of personal space. Dr. Haskell furrowed his brow curiously and turned to follow Isaac back to the first level, knowing that the new arrival was safe, but in need of new attire for the day. Both men wandered downstairs, where Dr. Haskell requested Isaac escort Scarlet from her room the following day. Isaac agreed without any argument, stating that it would be his pleasure.

--

Rapping on Scarlet’s door twice with his knuckles, Isaac stood, dressed in a nice pair of black slacks, a red sleeved shirt, and a black vest with a striped tie tucked beneath it. When the door opened, he took her hand and kissed the back of it, a polite gesture over all else, though the taste of her skin was sweet against his lips. Tucking her arm in his, he led her downstairs and into the open living area. A fire burned in the hearth, warming the buzzing room. There were tables spread with various food items and large tubs with iced champagne and chilled wine, some set aside at room temperature for particular taste.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” Isaac inquired, releasing her once amongst everyone. His eyes scanned the crowd. Preston was nowhere to be seen amongst the gathered crowd. “I don’t believe our friend will be showing up tonight. He went out late yesterday and hasn’t been seen since, took Cerberus with him, which means he’s probably disappeared to the mountain cabin he built four years ago. There’s no telling whether he’ll be back tonight, tomorrow, or in the next week.” Dr. Haskell approached, followed by Gregory and Vivian. Vivian appeared less scornful of Scarlet, more pleasant, smiling at the young woman as she clung to Gregory, a diamond ring on her left ring finger.

“You’ll be glad to know that Preston won’t be joining us tonight, no doubt Scarlet,” Dr. Haskell announced, kissing Scarlet on the cheek, his breath smelling of sweet wine and the chocolates he’d already consumed. His expression grew serious. “If he ever does something like that to you again, let me know. He shouldn’t, not from how Isaac described how it happened and your face afterward.”

 

[Blair1216]

Scarlet decended the stairs with her arm hooked inside Isaac's, smiling enough to let her one dimple show. She tried her best to appear as if her mind was not on Preston, but the beautiful decor and the lavish wine and deserts that filled the dining all. Music played, and everyone was standing and chatting while taking sips from their wine glasses. A few people danced, but not many, and they all seemed genuinely merry. Their happy conversations that made the room buzz gave Scarlet a sickening stomach, not because it bothered her, but because she wished she felt the same. She wished she was not secretly letting her blue eyes dart around the room, both wishing he would stay away and appear all at once.

Eyes followed her, Scarlet knew. It was obvious that they were looking for the bruises, talking amongst themselves of what they heard and what they thought they knew. Of course, to them, she was the Goddess of the Underworld, and despite how innocent she appeared, they watched how close they came in contact with her. It caused her to look over at the champagne with a gleam in her eye, knowing that she needed to refrain from such an act, for she had never sipped alcohol before, yet feeling the yearning deep down that told her it would calm her down.

"I'd take a glass of chilled chapagne," she said, smiling at Isaac. He was a sweet guy, she realized, and he gave her a warm feeling. It wasn't the burning sensation that Preston gave her, far from it, but she loved how soft his brown eyes were. They reminded her of a puppy's eyes; loyal and loving. Although she knew nothing about him, it was starting to become evident to her that he could possibly be Preston's exact opposite. This was exactly what she needed to take her mind off of Preston and his dangerous, yet intriguing way of pulling her in.

Standing in the middle of the dining hall, Scarlet hugged her self nervously. She honestly looked better than ever, her golden locks curled and falling down her back and her face applied with makeup. She wore a simple, yet curve-hugging navy dress that reached right above her knees. It left one shoulder bare, her skin soft yet vulnerable to the open, and one shoulder with a single strap. The only jewelry she wore was a pair of pearl stud earrings her mother gave her on her eighteenth birthday, and her shoes were not awfully high, yet just enough to accentuate her toned legs. She was not lavishly dressed, no, but she gave off a simple elegance, and her skin looked decent after she managed to cover the nastier portion of her bruises with makeup. However, even with her outer appearence looking nice, she still felt small and insignificant in the room of people.

Leaning in to the doctor's kiss, Scarlet smiled and nodded. "I'm fine, Dr. Haskell," she murmured, giving a reassuring nod. "Honetly, I'm feeling much better."

It only took two glasses of the chamagne to have Scarlet giggling, her cheeks flushed, and her body leaning into Isaac's with ease. Her arms wrapped around his bicep, she smirked and gave him a flirtatious glance once they were alone. "Thank you for being my date," she said, although her words were slightly slurred. She knew deep down that she could possible fall over without holding on to him, but she didn't mind. Her giggles continued, her long hair falling over her shoulder, and she gave the room a bright smile. "Mmm," she murmured through her bursts of laughter. She stumbled on her heels for a moment, but caught her balance before she could see anyone notice. "We should dance... or something. God, I love that stuff..." With that, she swirled her third glass of champagne around before taking one large gulp. Her nose wrinkled as she swallowed it, but as soon as she had it down, her dimpled smile returned.

 

[Raivh]

It was different to have a girl clinging to him the way Scarlet was, happy and giggling. He smiled, an almost involuntary reaction to the sound of laughter bubbling from the young woman, but it was a genuine smile. His brown eyes were on her, flitting about her flushed face and enjoying the glowing look the champagne had given her. He didn’t doubt he should be sure that the glass she was on now was her last. Her words were already slurred, and he nodded in response to her gratitude. It was more than a pleasure for him to keep her company at the manor’s Christmas party. She seemed relaxed, and from what he’d been hearing of her, relaxation was just the remedy she needed.

“You want to dance?” he asked slowly, obviously surprised, but not outright rejecting the idea of dancing with her. He watched as she took another large swallow of champagne, and shook his head, a pleasant smile on his face. Arching his brows, he reached out and carefully removed it from her hand. “Yeah, it’s pretty good, but I think I’m going to police your drinking before you wind up drunker than you already are.” He chuckled, setting her glass down on a nearby table for one of the mansion’s servants to pick up later. His gaze scanned the room, and he held out his arm, offering it for her to take. One dance couldn’t hurt before he ushered her off to bed and bid her goodnight.

“Come on. I’ll dance with you, and then we better get you upstairs to sleep off that champagne you love so much,” he teased, leading the way out to the center of the cleared floor. Few couples danced slowly around the room, their arms around each other comfortably, happy, soft smiles on their faces. The music that played in the background was festive, not really fit for a dance, but it would do. When they slowed to a halt, he stepped in front of her, hands on her waist to hold her steady, and looked her in the eyes before taking her hands in his own. He lifted them up, placing her palms on his shoulders, and pulled her carefully against his lean frame, more for her balance, but the press of her soft body against his was an added plus.

Isaac didn’t notice the figure looming near the staircase, staring into the room where the party was taking place. Green eyes were aflame and locked on Isaac and Scarlet. Still in his coat, having just returned from the city, Preston turned his head and vanished up the stairs without bothering to make his arrival known to anyone in the house.

“Did you have fun tonight?” Chin resting gently against the top of her head, her blonde curls tickling his face, Isaac took a deep breath, filling his lungs with her scent. She smelled sweet, innocent, and it was very evident to him that she was both. Swaying gently, he pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, and lifted a hand to brush a few stray locks from her face.

He smiled. “I know I did.” Taking a deep breath, he stopped dancing and just held her where they stood. His brown eyes lowered from hers to her pink lips. The temptation to kiss her was great, and he cupped her cheek. “You’re so beautiful, even when I can see that champagne swirling in those blue eyes of yours.” Letting his hand fall away, a smile on his face, he stepped back and tucked her arm in his again, helping her toward the stairs. “Let’s get you off to bed.”

 

[Blair1216]

Scarlet stumbled up the staircase at his side, her heels giving way with every other step. Giggling, she held on to him and welcomed the warm feeling he gave her. He was so kind and charming; the kind of man that Scarlet dreamt of when she was young. Of course, it could have been the champagne, but she found herself holding on to him with a noticeable amount of affection. Isaac reminded her of the prince that saved the princess from the confinement of her tower in the story that Scarlet's mother told her through out her childhood, and Scarlet found herself clinging to him, seeking out the comfort of the slight amount of familiarity he gave her.

"This is my room," she slurred, her smile bright and her eyes slightly hazy. Never had she felt such a lack of control over her own body before, but she didn't hate the sensation it gave her. Looking up into his warm brown eyes, she leaned her back against the door, stumbling into it and bringing him with her. She pulled her to him in an uncharacteristically bold way, feeling his lean body press into her's. With a sigh of pleasure, her hands went up to his chest, and within a half a second, she no longer felt she was with Isaac at her door, but being pressed to the wall by Preston like the night before. Her body shuddered.

"Do you really think I'm beautiful?" she asked, her voice low and husky. After eighteen years of being watched closely by her mother, it was obvious that she had never spent much time alone with a man, especially one that called her beautiful. Although, her mind was fuzzy, and the image in her head kept fluttering back and forth between Isaac caressing her cheek just moments ago, and when Preston did the same action that night down in the living room, telling her she was like spring. Two very different men, and two very different meanings being the same action. Isaac's compliment felt genuine, while Preston's sounded more of a warning.

"You realize," she started, her voice growing slightly darker. "That I'm apparently the Goddess of the Underworld."

Scarlet let one of her hands reach up and brush against Isaac's cheek and jaw as she spoke, her blue eyes tainted by the effects of the champagne and something else. In fact, after she felt herself pulling his face down to her's, her hand tangled in the hair on the back of his head, she knew it was desire. It burned inside of her, giving her chills and making her stomach twist in a way that she hadn't felt much before. However, she was not sure if her body ached for the man that she was holding, or the man that lived on the other side of the manor.

With a hesitant movement, her breath hitched, and she pulled herself up on her toes enough to let her lips crush to his. Before, Scarlet would have never imagined herself being so bold, kissing a man outside of her door, her bed just several feet away. Her mouth was sweet with the flavor of champagne as she pulled him closer, one hand clinging to his chest, firmly placed on the back of his neck. Something had taken over her, and it made her want to bring him as close as possible. She didn't think is body felt quite the same as Preston's, his presence not admitting the heat that she felt the night before, but with the alcohol flowing through her veins, it was close enough. Isaac was the prince of her mother's story, his lips feeling so soft against her's even as she waited for his response, but here she was... Letting her mind wander to the image of the man that kept her feeling so angry and confused. The man that hurt her, yet intrigued her enough to keep her following him. In her mind, she was leaning in to kiss Preston, and she suddenly didn't care about the flowers that threatened to wilt around her like in her dream.

 

[Raivh]

Isaac tipped his head up in something of a nod, his eyebrows arched high on his forehead before they descended as his head returned to level, and then dropped just a bit further to make eye-contact with her. “So it is.” Perhaps he should have stopped her before she finished her second glass, never let her reach for a third. It was becoming increasingly obvious that she wasn’t in her right mind, not that he could complain when she gave him a smile as bright as the one spread over her lips. Or when she grabbed the material covering his chest and pulled him to her. His heart rate accelerated, feeling the soft press of her breasts against his chest.

Licking his lips as he stared down at her, he nodded. “Yes, you’re very beautiful.” Fire burned in his veins, but he knew better than to take advantage of the woman before him. She was drunk, and so incredibly so it seemed. His jaw was taut, not out of anger as Preston’s would have been, but in order to maintain control and reason when Scarlet lacked both. Hearing her comment about being Goddess of the Underworld, Isaac glanced down the hall, in the direction of Preston’s room. Yes, that was something Isaac was well aware of, the fact that Scarlet—Persephone, to be exact—was his woman, and in ancient times, his wife. But right now, it wasn’t Preston that Scarlet clung to, and it wasn’t Preston who felt her lips brush against his own.

Isaac stiffened, and the hands that had settled on her hips suddenly jumped and clenched around her upper arms. His chest heaved and suppressed the urge to groan against her mouth as she held him to it, tufts of his brown hair locked between her fingers. When she rose up on her toes and her end of the kiss firmed, Isaac felt his self-control waver. His grip on her upper arms slackened as he took a deep breath. The smell of sweet champagne filtered into his nostrils, giving him a dizzying effect when partnered with the scent of her skin so close to his. Warring with his conscience, the better part of him won out, and he returned her kiss briefly before breaking it off.

“Scarlet,” he breathed, pulling his head back to keep his mouth out of reach of hers. Looking her over, he smiled and leaned in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “You had too much champagne, and as much as I’d like to keep kissing you…” he trailed off, opening her door and glancing into her bedroom. There was a lot more than just kissing her that he would like to do, but seeing any kind of disappointment on her face the morning after was not something he wanted to see. Shaking his head, he kissed the tip of her nose before ushering her inside.

He helped her into bed, promising that he would see her tomorrow and that he would send one of the female servants up to help her change. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she would already be asleep by the time someone would be able to slip away from tending the party, but Isaac knew if he helped her out of her dress, he would want to close the door and crawl into bed with her. If he did that, his instinct would win out over logic, and he would desire more than just her kisses; he would want to get inside her, to make love to her and hear that sweet voice of hers cry out as he pleasured her body. He was sure she wasn’t ready for him to take what he believed was their blossoming relationship any further for the night. So he bid her goodnight and wished her sweet dreams, and then left the room, drawing the door shut behind him.

As he was returning to his own quarters for a good night’s rest a while later, the door to Preston’s chamber opened, and the man loomed in the doorway as Cerberus rushed past. The dog ran down the hall toward Scarlet’s room, entering when the door was opened by a maid. Preston merely stared at Isaac, ignoring the fact that his dog had once more gone to be with the woman he loathed the most in the manor.

Finally, after a long moment in silence, Isaac with his hand on the doorknob to his bedroom, Preston spoke. “Did you have a good time tonight?” There was a wicked smile on his face and anger in his eyes, and despite his peculiarly cheery tone, Isaac could sense the underlying darkness and hatred.

“Of course, Scarlet is a lovely young woman, and you, Preston, should watch how you handle her,” Isaac stated flatly. Something in Preston’s stare dimmed and the shadows grew in his green eyes. Stepping from the doorway, he approached Isaac where he stood.

He grabbed the lean man by his arm, the muscle in Preston’s hand enough to remind Isaac that he would never win in a battle of prowess and strength. Preston was six years his elder and the ancient ruler of one of three worlds. “As lovely as spring. Do not command me, Isaac. It won’t end well for you,” Preston growled and released Isaac’s arm. He left the man in silence, turning back to disappear into his room. Isaac stood there for a long moment after Preston vanished, before the door to his bedroom closed behind him.

Standing in front of his window in the thick of the night, Preston held the curtain aside and stared across the terrace as snow fell from the cloud-covered night sky. He’d been able to smell that woman on Isaac’s clothes. Blood burning, boiling, his anger seethed in his green eyes, and he let the curtain fall shut to strip free of his clothes and get into bed. There was a sudden, irrational desire in his bones to punish Scarlet, to strike her for spending an evening with Isaac. A light in Isaac’s eyes had alerted Preston that the evening had been more than just platonic.

The next morning at breakfast, Isaac was seated at a table, chattering away with a small group of other rebirthed souls. They spoke of the party the night before, of Scarlet, and questioned Isaac about whether he thought it was a good idea to court the young Goddess Persephone.

“Why shouldn’t I?” he asked, speaking rather defensively. “She’s terrified of Preston. You should have seen her the other night, and all of those bruises he’s given her. She deserves better than that.”

 

[Blair1216]

The following morning, Scarlet woke up to Cerberus snores, his face only a foot away from her's on the bed. He was sprawled out beside her, as if he were a person, sleeping soundly and his chest rising and falling peacefully. Eyebrows furrowed, she looked at him with utter confusion, reaching out to stroke the soft black fur that covered his head. His eyes slowly opened, and his tail began to make a heavy thudding sound against the mattress.

Sitting up slowly, Scarlet winced at the pounding headache that had taken over and the light that poured in from her window. Blue eyes narrowed, she ran a hand through her messy blond hair and let out a huff. She didn't remember much from last night, only that she seemed to have a decent time with Isaac, and that she found a nice comfort in the champagne that was served. An image of how embarrassing she must have appeared in front of the other members of the manor made her cheeks redden, even with Cerberus being the only other soul in the room. With a twist of her stomach, she remembered kissing Isaac, and it made her strongly consider not going down stairs for a few days.

With Cerberus still sitting on her bed, Scarlet stood up with a quiet groan, letting her feet hit the cold floor of her bedroom. She suddenly felt very dirty, needing to rid herself of the embarrassment she surely brought upon herself the night before. With a few tugs, she was out of her clothes, striding across the room and to the bathroom. Her nude, slender physic quickly developed a decent amount of goose bumps over her ivory skin, the cold air catching her off guard. She shivered and turned to the shower, flipping the hot water on with a quick motion.

As she stood waiting for the water to warm, Scarlet turned to look at herself in the full length mirror. The reflection of her naked form nearly startled her, even though it was not as horrific as she thought. She had been avoiding looking at the bruises that tainted her skin, knowing that once she counted them, she's grown more angry for putting herself in he position to receive them. Blue eyes staring intensely in the mirror, her hands coming up to brush against the skin of her hips, she saw fingerprints. Touching them with shaking fingers, Scarlet traced the evidence of the night before last, letting them roam higher to the ones under her arms from him lifting her to his eye level. Soon, her hands were roaming all over, touching each bruise with a gentle tenderness, and she recounted each action that caused each mark. Her face had grown stoic, no emotion visible, as she came to terms with the fact that what scared her the most was the feeling she was getting as she looked at the consequences of her encounters with Preston. She couldn't even recall the bruises on her hips hurting, for she remembered how she didn't even fight it. Her legs opened when he urged them too, and she didn't move a muscle as she felt him undo her jeans and slip his large hand inside them. Her mind was starting to catch up with her body, and before she could come to a conclusion about her feelings that she didn't want to know, she turned from the mirror and stepped inside the steaming shower.

Water rolling down each of her curves, heating her skin enough to turn it a light red, Scarlet tried to rid her mind of Preston and the feelings he gave her. It made her stomach twist with guilt, knowing her mother would be ashamed. Scarlet was supposed to be a good girl; innocent and pure. She was supposed to find a prince, like Isaac, and be treated like a delicate flower. Yet, the way her body responded to Preston's touch confirmed that while Scarlet may prefer to be treated with tenderness, her body yearned for roughness. In fact, it ached for the abuse that Preston gave her.

After showering, Scarlet grabbed a towel and tied it around herself before going back to her bedroom. Making her jerk to attention, Cerberus was pawing at the door furiously, whining to be let out of the confines of her room.

"Okay, okay," she whispered, rolling her eyes. Eyebrow arched, Scarlet walked across the floor, holding her towel to her, and opened the door. Cerberus ran out past her, leaving her to stand in the door way, water dripping from her form, and looking out with a confused expression.

 

[Raivh]

An hour after the sun had crept over the snowcapped mountain peaks, Preston roused himself. His eyelids peeled back, and he stared up at that mural on his ceiling, cursing it subconsciously. Sitting up, the sheets and blankets covering his body slid down from his chest, pooling around his waist, and he glanced over at the clock on his dresser. It was nearing nine o’clock. Glancing around his bedroom, he furrowed his brow when he didn’t spot Cerberus, and then recalled that the dog, in his disobedience as of late, had torn off toward Scarlet’s room while Preston spoke with Isaac. Memory of the brief conversation caused him to grit his teeth as he rested his back against the wrought iron and wooden bed frame. The bars jabbed into his back, only adding to his irritation.

Slowly, he eased himself out of bed and crossed over to the bathroom. Already nude, he turned the knobs in the shower to start the water. Immediately, scalding hot water spurted forth, and Preston stepped in, drawing the curtain shut behind him. Lathering a bar of soap in his hands, his eyes were fixed on the tile wall in front of him, watching as steam curled up from the shower floor. Images of Scarlet flashed through his mind, visions from the other night when she’d dared to strike him across the face. He smirked, remembering how she’d remained still the entire time, the look in her eyes when he’d slid his hand between her legs. She’d been warm and damp, as if she’d been willing to let him touch her, submissive to his actions.

A throbbing pulse drew his attention down, and he stared at his cock. The thick, heavily veined flesh was erect, and when he grasped it firmly, mind still swirling with thoughts and images of Scarlet, he gritted his teeth against an electric shock that shot through his body. Groaning he dragged his hand up to the ruddy head of his erection and back down. His head fell back after a few pumps of his fist led him to orgasm. Chest heaving, he dropped his softening member as his seed spiraled into the drain with the water that flowed down his body. Pressing a hand against the tile wall as he recovered, he snarled, eyebrows furrowed and anger renewed, he slapped the water off and stepped from the shower. He snatched a towel from the rack and dried off, wrapping it around his waist as he emerged once more in his bedroom and dressed.

Minutes later, he was striding down the hall toward her room, intending to retrieve his dog. The door opened when he was five feet from it. Cerberus burst forth, barking on his way out, and skidded to a halt before Preston, bowing his head and staring up at his master with large eyes. The dog let out a whine, however, Preston’s attention wasn’t directed at the dog; his eyes homed in on the young blonde standing in her doorway, adorned in nothing but a plush towel. His throat thickened, and he felt his pulse throbbing in his temples, the muscles lining his jaw strung tight. His expression was void of emotion for a long moment, green eyes skimming over the bare patches of wet skin not covered by her towel. It took him no more than thirty seconds to mentally undress her, but doing so resulted in a bulge at the front of his jeans, evoking irrational ire to rear up in his green eyes.

“Scarlet.” Isaac’s voice caused Preston to turn over his shoulder, meeting the brown eyes that stared back at him. There was a collected composure about Isaac that Preston lacked, only causing the growing heat in Preston’s veins to increase ten-fold. “Don’t touch her.” Preston turned, his massive shoulders squared as he glared at the approaching man. There was a great variance in Preston’s physique compared to Isaac’s. One possessed a great deal of muscle, the other lacking the same mass.

“I don’t think you could stop me if I intended to,” Preston retorted sharply, head turning as Isaac brushed past, keeping his brown stare locked on Preston.

Placing a gentle hand on Scarlet’s waist, Isaac smiled at her. “Good morning.” He cupped her cheeks against his palms, the skin not half as rough and weathered as Preston’s. The shadows in Preston’s eyes leaped out, lunging toward Isaac and Scarlet. “You should go back inside and dress.” Pressing a kiss below her eye, Isaac was jerked back. The wall beside Scarlet’s door shook, and Preston stood before the man, towering over him, a thickly muscled forearm bearing down on Isaac’s chest and keeping him pinned, feet dangling from the floor.

“I warned you not to command me around, Eros,” Preston snapped, practically gnashing his teeth and sending spit flying into Isaac’s face. “You don’t have the strength to back your words up, or the power to reverse pain or death. You can’t save her from anything, God of Love.” Throwing around Eros’ title with a great amount of bitter sarcasm, Preston’s tightly balled fist impacted with Isaac’s stomach, rendering the man a desperately pained expression. A swift kick followed in the same place his punch had landed, after letting Isaac slide to the floor, and then Preston turned on Scarlet.

Reaching out he grabbed hold of her left elbow and jerked her forward, wrenching her towel from her and tossing it out into the hall. “I should fuck you right here in the hall,” he snarled, his other hand sliding up to just below her shoulder so she couldn’t pull away. “It would be the least you deserve; hearing you cry and scream in front of your boyfriend would be the high point of my year.” Everything before his eyes was red and littered with dots, his rage at a dangerous level. Isaac was struggling to get back to his feet as Preston’s eyes burned into Scarlet’s.

The corners of Preston’s lips twitched into a malicious smirk as the fingers of one hand dug into her ass, pressing her forward into his straining bronze zipper. “Have you ever been fucked before?” he asked as his hand slipped between her legs from behind and two of his fingers plunged deep inside her. Her slick folds were a giant beacon of interest, and he stretched her wider with the addition of a third finger. Isaac was on his hands and knees now, coughing and trying to shout down the hall, his voice muffled from the pain in his gut.

“Do you know how good it would feel to bury my dick so deep inside of you that you go blind, pain or pleasure?” His fingers fucked her in slow strokes, rasping and scraping along her naturally lubricated passage as they thrust and withdrew, only to drive back into her again. He stopped the movements of his hand, feeling the involuntary contractions of her muscled walls clench around his fingers. Breath against her ear, he spoke just loud enough for her to hear, “If it feels anything like this morning when I imagined fucking you, then the flames of hell are closer to dragging me to the Underworld than I thought.”

Withdrawing his hand, he slipped his fingers into his mouth, clearing away the juices that shimmered on each of the three he’d probed into her body. Lust shone in his green eyes, a threatening amount of it, and he wiped his hand on the denim of his jeans. “Preston!” Dr. Haskell’s voice rang out, but Preston was already turning away and walking toward the stairs. The old man reached out, grabbing a fistful of Preston’s shirt. “What you’re doing and have done is highly inappropriate!”

Preston shrugged him off, continuing to stalk his way to the stairs. “I think you’ll find that my inappropriate behavior isn’t as disapproved of by her as it is by you and everyone else!” he bellowed. “If you’re concerned about her wellbeing living here, then send her home! It’s what she wants, isn’t it?” By the time his final question echoed in the hall, he was on the first floor, grabbing his coat and keys and heading for the door, which slammed behind him as he stormed out into the cold, snowy weather outside.

“Isaac, are you alright? Go to my office so I can check your stomach for bleeding,” Dr. Haskell said quickly, helping the gentleman up and passing him off to a house servant. When his attention turned to Scarlet, he reached around her, wrapping her towel back in place. “I’m sorry, my dear. If home is where you’d like to go, we’ll have a car ready when you’re dressed. I’m so sorry. You must feel violated and disgusted.” He shut the door behind her once he had her inside, and then went off to treat Isaac.

 

[Blair1216]

Scarlet slid along the closed door, down to the floor. Her towel fell off and around her, leaving her nude back pressed against the cold wood, her knees pulled into her chest. She ran her hands through her still damp blond hair, her breathing labored, for she was left breathless by Preston's actions. He'd violated her, stretched the walls of her most private area with his calloused fingers and whispered in her ear about imagining his cock inside her, his voice husky and low. He had controlled her, left her with no choice to take what he had given her, and all the while doing it in front of a severely injured Isaac. Shaking her head, she relaxed her body against her bedroom door and thought about what her logical reaction should be. She should be furious, terrified, crying to be taken home immediately... Yet, when she reached down between her thighs, her slender fingers spreading her outer lips and exposing her depths to the cool air of the room, she felt the wetness that his fingers had created. As her fingers explored, she found her clit swollen and sensitive to the touch. Scarlet's stomach twisted, realizing how her body was reacting to his assault, and before she could convince herself of how disturbing it was, she was rubbing herself, slow and steady circles. Images of Preston flooded her mind, his haunting green eyes penetrating her own blue ones, whispering the same statement he had said earlier.

“If it feels anything like this morning when I imagined fucking you, then the flames of hell are closer to dragging me to the Underworld than I thought.”

With a groan, her chest heaving and blue eyes rolling in the back of her head, she orgasmed. Wetness coated her fingers, and her body shook as she slumped against the door. Taking deep breaths, her eyes looked ahead of her, catching sight of the snow that was coming down rather hard. The air was thick with it's icy white particles, and as Scarlet bit her lip so hard that she could taste the metallic-like substance of blood on her tongue, she watched it swirl around the foggy windows.

It was only then, wiping the juices on her fingers against her naked thigh, that Scarlet's eyes welled with tears. For it was then that she realized there was more of Persephone in her soul than she thought, and that part of her soul ached for Preston - Hades. No matter how much he hurt her, frightened her, forced himself on her, Scarlet's body ached for him, and the lust that she could see swirled beneath those familiar green eyes did it in for her. How awful was she to be basking in the pleasure Preston's abuse gave her while innocent Isaac was in Dr. Haskell's office getting checked for internal bleeding? Her mother would be ashamed, and even if she wasn't, Scarlet was.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Later that evening, Scarlet descended the stairs of the manor and walked hesitantly toward Dr. Haskell's office. Dressed in a snug, v-neck sweater, it's olive green color contrasting with her long wavy blonde hair, she crossed her arms over her chest and quickly knocked on the office door. As she stood and waited for a response, she stuffed her hands in the pocked of her jeans and looked down at her soft black boots. They were new, barely broken in. They were one of the many things that the manor had provided her upon her arrival, and despite her disinterest in the winter weather that she never had to endure during her life in California, she liked them.

A maid had answered the door, letting her inside and showing her to the bed that Isaac was left to rest in. The office was small from where she could see, yet there were man closed doors that she didn't dare explore. Something told her that she didn't want to see what was on the other side.

As she walked into the room the maid brought her to, her arms crossed over her chest nervously, she immediately frowned. The dark colors of the decor was an extreme contrast to what hospitals were normally like, the furniture Victorian-inspired, and the bed adorned with burgundy blankets and a mahogany head and foot board. It gave Scarlet an eery feeling, as if she were almost in another world entirely.

"Are you okay?" Scarlet whispered, slowly walking toward him. Her hand reached down to brush against his, her face full of guilt, imagining how much pain he must have been in earlier that morning. "I'm so sorry, Isaac. This is all my fault."

Shaking her head, she sat in the chair beside his bed and let out a heavy side, her hand reaching up to cover the nasty bruise on her neck. The movement had become habit by now. Her blue eyes locked with the window, just as she had earlier, watching the snow come down around the manor. She wondered if it was mocking her, floating around her and teasing her for what it knew she did on her bedroom floor earlier that day.

"I don't plan to leave," she said, one of her feet coming up to prop itself on the edge of the chair, her knee to her chest in a defensive position. Her arms wrapped around her folded leg, her chin resting on top of her knee. "I'm not going to let Preston scare me away from my place in this manor. I deserve my stay as much as he, even if he was here for longer. I'll just have to be more careful."

However, Scarlet knew this was a lie. She knew that deep down, she was not only staying out of stubborn stupidity, but the fact that she was drawn to Preston in away that she could never begin to explain. Something about herself wanted him, and it was too large of a feeling to deny any longer.

 

[Raivh]

The room was quiet, calm, just what Isaac needed after his experience with Preston that morning. His ribs throbbed with agonizing pain that kept a constant grimace twisted on his face. He knew if he breathed too deeply the sharp ache became worse, had learned that about three hours ago when he’d first woken up. Taking a deep breath, the sterilized scent of the room he was in filled his lungs and burned his nose. A powerful cough shook his system, or at least what felt powerful. In his ears, the cough sounded weak, forced. Preston had done a number on him, and Isaac didn’t know whether to regret speaking out on Scarlet’s behalf or not; she hadn’t shown up all day to see how he was doing.

Hearing her voice, Isaac turned his head to look at her slender figure advancing cautiously toward him. Guilt was highly apparent in her gaze. His first thought was that she should feel guilty. He was in this condition because he’d fought for her, but she’d done nothing for him in return.

She didn't? She kissed you last night. Her hand was soft as it slid over his cheek, and he exhaled when he wanted to inhale. By the time he was breathing in, however, she was pulling a chair up beside him, too far away for him to catch her sweet fragrance. Licking his lips, he watched her, studied her blue eyes, and couldn’t help but wonder what was going through her mind. She kept covering that bruise on her neck, as if she didn’t want him to know it was there, but he was very much aware of the purple mark and the man that had given it to her. Good god, though, she was a sight for sore eyes, enough to almost make him want to sit up in bed.

He watched as she drew her leg up and rested her chin on her knee, those blue eyes of hers still staring out the window when he wanted her to be staring at him. That man’s name on her lips was the last he wanted to hear, but he let it slide, just glad that she hadn’t decided to leave. However, he feared for her at the same time. There was no end to Preston’s anger, to his hate; no one could temper the storm that constantly raged within him. Not once had Isaac witnessed a calm moment in his presence, only ones that provoked fear or anger, or were the start of a fight that ultimately ended with someone under Dr. Haskell’s medical expertise.

Shaking his head, Isaac closed his eyes. It was sunset, and he could see tints of orange on the back of his eyelids. His chest heaved as he released a long, exhausted sigh. “Scarlet. Why didn’t you scream?”

Teeth clenched together in an attempt to stave off his anger, he opened his eyes and looked over at her, his brow furrowed. A muscle in his jaw flexed in protest of how calm he managed to keep his tone. It didn’t make any sense to him. Any woman who didn’t want to be touched would have struggled, kicked, screamed, cried, but studying her, there was barely a tint of red in her blue eyes. She didn’t appear to have shed many tears, if any at all. Her complexion was clear. Instead of telling him goodbye, she was informing him that she was staying. Damn it! Did she want to wind up the victim of a rape? Preston had come close earlier that day, and Isaac had been incapable of doing anything but watching as the wicked man violated such a beautiful young woman.

“Let me kiss you.” Not entirely sure where he’d gotten the stomach to speak those words, he stared into her blue eyes. His heartbeat was thrumming steady in his chest. “I want to kiss you again, now that you’re sober.” Pausing, he shifted in bed, ignoring the pain that racked his body as he pushed himself up. He leaned against the headboard and his gaze locked with hers. “And I don’t want you to think about Preston or what he did. I’m sure it frightened you.” Silence filtered into the air between them, and he reached a hand out, offering it to her.

“Come here.” There was a command to his voice, but it was soft. Isaac didn’t want to strike fear into her heart. He wanted Scarlet to feel comfortable around him, to know that she was safe with him, that he would protect her, not harm her. “I promise I’ll be gentle. You deserve to be cared for and to feel cherished, not soiled.” The cold of the winter weather outside wasn’t present in his heart, only the warmth of summer, of the love he could give her. She was a light in his eyes, and he would hate to see that light doused by Hades. So young, so vulnerable was she that he wanted to crawl inside of her skin so that she would never forget him, and he’d known her for nothing more than a couple days.

 

[Blair1216]

Scarlet jerked her gaze away from the window and over to Isaac, her face paling at his bold question. Looking him over, she noticed how much pain he was in, and a saddened expression fluttered across her youthful face. This was all because of her, and his question hinted to what Scarlet feared. Isaac was injured because he came between two strong, fated souls that are meant to be together in the pits of Hell. He was teetering on a very dangerous line, his attention focused on the wife of Hades. Scarlet did not take Isaac as an unintelligent being, for his question said it all, but she wondered if he was truly willing to stand at her side with Preston looming over. This morning was a few damaged ribs, but what would be next? Scarlet felt her stomach twist, wondering if she could be the type of person to let Isaac get hurt over and over for her. After all, that would not make her any better of a human being than Preston.

Scarlet quickly lifted her chin from her knee, but before she could spit out a half-hearted answer, he surprised her again with another blunt statement. Teeth catching her bottom lip, she silently nodded, standing up and reaching for his outstretched hand. His hand was soft and warm, inviting like a hot bath after a long day. She took it with ease, as if a part of her wanted to be with him just as much as she craved Preston's haunting presence. The Princess inside of her wanted a man like Isaac; charming and gentle. Tonight, it was the least she could do to stay with him, and it wasn't necessarily a chore.

"You don't need to worry about what he did to me," she whispered, moving closer to him and kicking off her boots. The fell to the floor with two thuds, forgotten as she stared into his chocolate hued eyes. "I'm so much more regretful what what happened to you, Isaac. God, I'm so sorry."

Sliding on to the bed beside him, careful not to come in contact with his pain-ridden core, Scarlet settled herself onto her side and leaned against the headboard beside him. Giving him a soft smile, her hand reached up and caressed his cheek. He was so handsome; his face soft and inviting. It was obvious he was atleast a few years older that her, maybe more, but his kind presence would have drawn her in even if he was fifty years her elder. Something about him warmed her heart, and it wasn't long before she had her soft lips pressed against his, her blue eyes closed, and both of her hands cupping his face. Her fingers reach around and tangled into his dark hair, and her thumbs brushed across his jaw.

"I trust you," she said simply, smiling against his lips. Her breathing was soft and light, loving the feeling of such a gentle man. The little girl inside of her was glowing, and she wasted no time in kissing him again, just a little harder. Yet, there was a flicker of guilt inside that Scarlet pushed aside for the night, and that was from knowing what an awful person she was. There was nothing that could sugar-coat what she was doing. Moving closer to Isaac, she was letting him taste her, believe she was his, but Scarlet knew the truth. She was never, despite how hard she tried, going to be anyone else's but Preston's. Her soul belonged to him and the Underworld, and Isaac was just a pawn; a person to make her believe it wasn't true. As much as she would love a Prince Charming, she knew she was destined for something very different, and instead of turning Isaac away, letting him find his princess, she reeled him in, letting him stand in the line of fire just to make herself feel better. She treated him just how the true Goddess of the Underworld would.

 

[Raivh]

Holding onto her hand, he shook his head against her apology. She was enough to ebb the pain, and as she slid into bed beside him, pain was the last feeling in his mind. His entire body warmed. He knew she was staying away from him to avoid causing him further injury, but he wanted her closer. A breath of fresh oxygen flooded into his lungs as he breathed in her scent, the feel of her smooth palm gliding over his rough cheek one of the greatest sensations a man could experience. Second to a woman’s kiss; her lips were luscious, and he reveled in the way they gave against the soft press of his own.

He shifted when he felt her fingers scrape gently over his scalp, an inviting touch that sent his heart thundering against his chest. She spoke, and his eyes opened, crossed and fixated on what he could see of her face. The feather light caress of her breath against his lips was pulled deep into his lungs, drinking in the very essence of her as his eyes slid to half-mast. Her lips returned to his, igniting a slow burn that radiated just under the surface of his skin, not an all-consuming fire, but a pleasant warmth. Beneath them, the mattress gave as she slid closer, and he didn’t hesitate to capture her face between his hands and angle his body to face her more fully, taking possession of the kiss. Her soft chest brushed against his, sending a shiver down his spine and causing his desire for her to spike. Whether or not she was the ancient Goddess of the Underworld—Hades’ wife—didn’t matter; he didn’t care. She tasted sugar sweet, quickly topping the rich taste of chocolate cake, his preferred dessert when given the choice.

Parting his lips on a sigh, the tip of his tongue slid out and traced the seam of her lips where it seemed a pool of sweet honey had gathered. Very carefully, he urged her lips apart with his own, and his tongue slid into her mouth, rasping over hers in a slow and shallow motion. He pulled away, gaze locked on her lips, then her eyes, and he smiled, blazing a path of lingering kisses from the edge of her mouth to the corner of her jaw. Gently, he nibbled on her earlobe, the cartilage at the top of her ear, and finally pressed a tender kiss to the side of her neck. His hands moved to stroke over her shoulders, squeezing softly every now and again to relish in the feel of her soft body and let her know he was conscious of more than just her lips.

“This is just personal opinion,” he murmured, kissing the tip of her nose, and rested his forehead against hers. “But you taste much sweeter when you haven’t had any champagne.” Gentle hands rested on her shoulders, thumbs massaging her muscles with slow circles and light pressure. With a breath out, his gaze fell to the bruise on her neck, and the tip of one of his fingers traced over a portion of the purple mark. He shook his head a frowned his displeasure. Leaning forward, he angled his head and kissed the hollow behind her right ear. His mouth moved down an inch, just above the bruise Preston had marred her porcelain skin with, and he drew a bit of her flesh between his lips. Dampening the skin with a flick of his tongue, he sucked on the area for a long moment before he pulled away.

Admiring his work, he cracked a smile. “You should go get something to eat. They’ll be bringing me a tray up soon.” He kissed her again, long and deep and sweet, until he was sure she would taste him all night. “Go on. Preston’s gone off to his cabin in the mountains, this time I’m sure of it. I asked Dr. Haskell and he said the bastard left shortly after his assault on you.”

 

[Blair1216]

The feeling of his lips on her's, on her neck, her jaw, her ear... It sent Scarlet into a feeling of utter warmth, making her close her eyes and give in to his gentle caressing. Her blue eyes flutter close as she leaned against the back board of the bed, letting him take over, and her hands moved to his back and the back of his head, tangling in his soft hair. When his tongue flicked out to touch the sensitive flesh of the nape of her neck, she gasped, and the grip in his hair tightened slightly.

Cheeks flushed, Scarlet was lost in his presence, eyes closed to the rest of the world. All she did was let her body feel, take advantage of his gentle touch, yet her mind was flashing images of Preston, his green eyes looming over her with that swirl of lust she saw earlier when he sucked her juices off his three fingers. The memory made her groan, just as Isaac started to suck above the bruise Preston gave her, and her back became slightly arched off the bed. When he pulled back, she nearly let out a whine until her eyes fluttered open and she realized what she was doing. Her face light pink and her lips slightly swollen form their heavy kissing, Scarlet let her blue eyes flutter over Isaac's face. She was not disappointed to look up at him hovering over her, his handsome face clearly showing happiness, but disappointed in herself for letting her mind wander to another man while she kissed Isaac. She hated herself for doing it, but despite her best efforts, Preston's image seemed to be imprinted on the back of her eyelids. He haunted her mind, reminding her of how much her body subconsciously ached for him.

"You're running me off," Scarlet sighed, her tone sliding into a soft giggle. Looking up at him, her long lashes shadowing her blue eyes, she gave him a soft smile, reaching up to caress his cheek once again. Her fingers slide over his stubble gently as she shook her head. "However, I'm not hungry, and the least I can do is give you my company while you heal." A quick, witty smirk covered her lips. She loved how pleased he appeared in her presence, and it only made her want to give him more, just to see how appreciative he was. Pulling the heavy blankets aside, she slid beneath them with him, letting her legs come in contact with his warm ones, her chest brush against his. Sliding down, she rested her head on the pillow and looked up at him with her golden hair splayed across the satin pillow case. Something about his personality, she craved, even if she knew it was nothing more than the little girl inside starving for the touch of a gentle man; a prince.

"Surely, you will not make me leave?" Her voice was light and innocent, looking up at him from where he was leaned against the head board above her. Her hand slid to rest on his waist beneath the blankets, and she knew what she was doing was wrong, but damnit, she deserved a night of comfort after all she had been through since being brought to the manor.

 

[Raivh]

“No,” he dragged out, furrowing his brow and frowning with a shake of his head. The last goal he had was to run her off. He smiled down at her, admiring her partially hidden blue eyes, a smile of his own painted across his handsome features. Lifting a hand, he placed it over hers, stroking his thumb over the soft skin of her knuckles while he listened to her give reason as to why she thought she should stay. Arching his eyebrows, he laughed, ignoring the pain in his gut and ribs; he would brook no argument. If she wanted to keep him company, he wasn’t going to complain. The bed shifted and rocked as she moved around, and Isaac watched as she slipped beneath the quilts. He cleared his throat, the warmth of her legs seeping through the thin, worn fabric of the flannel pants he wore. His gaze followed her head to the pillow, studying her beautiful face as she stared up at him with those gorgeous blue eyes.

Closing his eyes, he drew in a pensive breath when she asked her question, only to respond a moment later, “No, I won’t,” and kiss her swollen, rouge lips. A stupid man he was not. However, a passionate man he was. It was his nature as the reincarnated God of Love, Eros. A lump formed in his throat as her hand rested on his waist, beckoning a primal force within him to ease down with her. Propping himself on his elbow, he gave a fleeting look to the door as a maid entered with the tray he’d spoken of moments ago. The woman cast the pair in bed one look and dropped her gaze to the floor, setting the tray on the table before slipping back out of the room. When his eyes returned to meet hers, he slid the tips of his fingers over her forehead, sidling stray blonde tresses from her face.

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” he inquired, aware that Persephone was an innocent woman before Hades’ stole away with her to the Underworld, deflowering the virgin Goddess. His hand slid from her face, beneath the blankets and his arm crossed over her hips, feeling her heat emanate through the denim jeans she wore. “I can tell by your face, the innocent look of your eyes.” He exhaled through his nose and edged closer to her, his hand sliding up to her shoulder as he adjusted, bringing the weight of his body over hers. She was small, even compared to his lean form. He slid an arm under her shoulder, fingertips stroking the soft strands of blonde hair at the back of her neck. His lips found hers, parting to envelope her mouth in an easy kiss, setting a slow pace.

Sipping, sucking, and gently nibbling on her lips as his tongue thrust slowly into her rich, delicious mouth, Isaac felt the beginnings of an erection throb against her lower abdomen. “Maybe I should lock the door,” he mumbled into the kiss, shifting his weight and fitting his hips between hers, the ache in his ribs long forgotten. He could feel the humid heat of her center nestled against his hardening cock, and instantly responded by grinding into her. The motion was enough to increase the blood flow to the pulsing organ, and he did it once more before sliding off of her and out of bed. A groan of pain left his lips when he stood, and he muttered that he was fine as he crossed over to the door and spun the lock.

On his way back, he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing a lean chest and stomach. There was very little definition to his ectomorph physique. Crawling back into bed, he kissed her slender jaw before he kissed her on the lips. “There,” he stated, growling playfully at her as he placed a kiss on her brow. His eyes slid over her face, just a flicker of lust in his eyes that was gradually beginning to burn brighter. His fingers grazed over the side of her body, hooking over her hip, thumb brushing gently over the bare flesh and prominent bone beneath.

“Now I’m locking you in, is that better, sweetheart?” he asked, the pet name sliding off his tongue easily. He rather liked how that sounded when referenced to Scarlet. “Sweetheart, is that alright if I call you that?”

 

[Blair1216]

Scarlet gasped at the feeling of his fingers brushing against her pelvis, creating goose bumps across her ivory skin. Her breathing quickened as her shirt was pushed an inch upward, revealing her naval. Blue eyes flashing toward him, she nodded to his question reguarding her virginity, and a deep blush spread across her cheeks and chest. Had it been that obvious? She bit her lip, feeling as if she must be more simple of a person that she already thought; clear as crystal and easy to read.

"My mother was very protective," she mentioned, a slight defensive tone evident. "She liked to keep me close to her and far from others."

When he had walked back over to her, shedding his shirt and revealing his lean torso in the process, Scarlet felt her face heat up all over again. This was such a new experience, for she'd never felt the immediate attention of a man, and the way his chocolate eyes slid over her face, it made her nervous. Shifting under the quilts, she let him settle his hips between her thighs once more, and when she felt this buldge beneath his flannel pants, an instinctive moan ripped from her chest. Her shaking hand reached up and around him, exploring his torso and feeling the line of his spine and the lean muscles of his back. Her hips moved upward in a hesitant motion, and with the pleasure that the contact gave her, her body shuddered and made her fingers press into his flesh. Looking up into his eyes, her blue irises swirled with desire for the heat his body created against her's.

"Sweetheart?" she repeated, her voice raspy. Letting out a airy chuckle, she shook her head. "No, I don't mind... In fact, I quite like it." Lifting her head barely an inch from the plush pillow, she pressed her lips to his, dragging him down and letting the weight of his body push her deep into the sheets. Her right leg pulled up at the knee, then hook around his hip, her foot resting against his thigh and bringing his pulsing organ closer to her heated core. Even with their clothes between them, it gave her enough pleasure to make her deepen the kiss, this time letting her own tongue push into his awaiting mouth, tasting him in the most intimate way. One hand slid from his shoulder to his hair, letting her fingers tangled within the soft tresses of Isaac's dark hair.

The way he held her gently, as if she would break if he pressed to far, frustrated her. It was not that she did not feel the warmth he provided her, for nothing had made her feel so special... He looked at her in a way she had never experienced, nearly breaking her heart with the amount of compassion she saw in his eyes. His tenderness was something she had always wanted from a man; her prince charming. Yet, somewhere deep within, Scarlet craved something he could never give her, for his heart was too big. Her body wanted something more, and her mind kept flashing to brutal force Preston put over her, how he immediately took it upon himself to explore her depths, to tell her he had the strength to take her if he wanted to. Just letting the memory take over as she leaned in to kiss his throat, her nipples went erect beneath her sweater, and it made her push her breasts against his chest with a sudden jolt of passion.

"Isaac," she whispered, her lips brushing the fragile skin of the nape of his neck. "You are putting yourself in a dangerous position." However, even with the warning in her voice, it was mixed with her raw need, and she didn't pull away an inch. "I'm the reason your in this bed, and what kind of person am I to let you keep getting hurt over me? Did you ever think about that? Deep down, somewhere in a place that I have yet to explore, I'm Hades wife... A you're quite literally playing with fire."

As she explained the risk of her laying beneath him, the danger of him pressing his groin into her's despite the way it made their bodies tingle, Scarlet explored his neck, his jaw, his bare chest... She pulled him in, closer and closer, while voicing the very reason she should be letting him go.

 

[Raivh]

Watching as she shook her head, Isaac’s smile broadened, and he eagerly met her kiss, lips moving hungrily over hers to capture as much of her sweet taste as he possibly could. A deep groan rumbled in his chest and throat when she hooked her right leg around him and pulled him closer. His brow furrowed, already growing frustrated with the irritating flannel fabric and her jeans between them. That sweater she wore wasn’t any better. Drawing her tongue into his mouth when she offered it, he felt the fire in his gut roar to an almost uncontrollable blaze. His balls felt heavier and heavier with each passing moment, and his goal to pleasure this woman to the fullest extent of his ability increased tenfold. Feeling her lips on his throat, her breasts suddenly much closer to his chest than they had been, he could do nothing but grunt when she whispered his name.

“Hm?” Running his hands along her body, he could feel the heat of her beneath her clothes. Those had to go. Soon. Or he would lose his mind. His eyes met hers and locked. The position they were in didn’t feel dangerous. Letting his gaze probe deep into hers, he could see the need for him in those blue orbs, the lust, and something else, something dark. He swallowed and licked his lips, letting his brow knit together as he shook his head. She wasn’t Hades’ wife. There was no ring on her finger. And Preston only abused her, hurt her—worse than Isaac had been injured, and reminded of his ribs, he knew Preston had been aiming to shock his vitals. Besides, Isaac couldn’t deny the yearning in his system to have this woman for his own, not when she was so obviously willing and as seemingly desperate as he.

“It’s not your fault,” he contradicted, kissing the corner of her mouth. “You didn’t order him to do what he did, and I haven’t seen him give you a ring, only bruises, and a lot of them.” Tucking his face against her neck, he nipped at the sensitive skin and rocked into her, the friction enough to nudge him closer to insanity. He leaned away from her, eyes on hers as his fingers skimmed below her sweater, over her ribs and to her breasts. The pad of his thumb slid over the pointed tip or her nipple, and he watched her as his hand engulfed the soft globe and gave it an experimental squeeze. His nostrils flared as a blast of air was dispelled from his nose. Pressing his lips quickly to hers, the mattress gave as he dug his palms down into it, pushing himself up, only to descend on her stomach.

Slowly, he edged the material of her sweater up, just an inch to start. His breath spilled over her skin first, and he cast her a glance as his lips met the smooth flesh just above the waist of her jeans. “I’m not worried about Preston,” he mumbled, pushing her sweater up further and further and trailing a path of kisses straight up her body. When he reached her bust line, his hands slid under first, covering her breasts as he pressed a kiss just below them and between her ribs. “I’m worried about you, Scarlet.”

Sliding his arms under her back, he sat up and pulled her with him. Immediately, his hands went to her sweater, lifting the garment up and over her head and tossing it to the chair beside the bed. “You’re reading too much in to myth. Preston terrifies you, doesn’t he?” Lowering her back to the sheets, he kissed her once more on the lips, letting his tongue slide in and over hers, claiming a quick taste. Then he moved his mouth to her breasts. Tracing one nipple with the tip of his tongue, he latched onto it and sucked in steady, rhythmic pulls, tongue lashing out to tease the pert nub before he switched to the breast he’d left unattended. His hand moved to the other soft globe, weighing, squeezing, and fondling it in the most gentle of ways.

Giving her nipple a playful nip, he soothed it with a light stroke of his tongue and returned to her lips. “God, you’re perfect.” He grunted, grinding his hips into hers. It was enough to make him pull away from her and shove his flannel pants to his knees, revealing the vein-ridden, steely length of his cock, a bead of precum decorating the tip. Reaching for her hand, he smiled and pressed her warm palm against his thick flesh, causing it to throb in a most excruciatingly pleasurable manner. His hands found the button of her jeans, and catching her gaze, he pushed it through the hole.

“This is going to hurt sweetheart, but I promise to make the pain go away as fast as I can, alright? I won’t move a muscle until you give me the go ahead, no matter how badly I’ll want to.” Undoing the zipper, he worked her jeans down past her knees. “I want you to enjoy yourself.” Exhaling, he balled her jeans up and leaned to the side, off the bed, and dropped the denim into the chair with her sweater. Then he fixed his eyes on her panties; the last item obscuring his view of her soft folds. Swallowing, he curled his fingers beneath the fabric at her hips and removed her panties as well. Gentle fingertips explored the silken flesh, parting and admiring what he saw. A soft smile flitted over his face and he bent, pressing a loving kiss to her clit before licking the moist length of her slit.

He dipped his tongue into the rich cream of her arousal, and then came over her, fitting the tip of his erection against her slick entrance. “Besides, maybe I don’t care about getting hurt if I know you’re mine,” he breathed, straining not to thrust and take her swiftly. His gaze was fixated on hers. “Are you ready, sweetheart? Pain first, then pleasure, I promise.” Pressing forward slightly, he kept his eyes locked with hers.

 

[Blair1216]

Scarlet had imagined this moment for a long time, and surprisingly, Isaac managed to make the moment perfect from scene to scene. This was how her first time was supposed to be, and she let herself get lost in his touch. He was so gentle, so reassuring. Never had she felt so special in her life, his term of endearment ringing through her head as she felt her clothes being peeled and removed from her shaking body. Her mind was hazy, unable to really respond to what he was saying. She simply nodded, her eyes closed and her teeth catching her bottom lip. Forehead wrinkled, Scarlet let out little whimpers in reference to what he was saying to her, barely letting the words sink in. When his lips kissed her swollen, slick clit, her back arched off the bed and she let out a groan. Her voice echoed through the room, and she pushed her breasts upward, getting lost in the pleasure his tongue gave her for that short moment. Her face was red with embarassment, unable to get over the fact that this was the first time in her life she was naked in front of anyone, let alone a man.

Her palm pressed against his pulsing organ with his subtle urging, and she let her fingers explore the warm flesh. Sitting up, Scarlet looked down at it with fearful eyes, her fingers mindlessly tracing the veins that decorated it. With her thumb, she smeered the precum at the end, studying the way it felt. She had never been scared of having sex, her mind never fleeting to the size of a man's cock as a thing to be afraid of, but that quickly changed. He was large in her hand, and she could feel his pulse within, waiting for her to lay back and let it take over her virginal body. Eyebrows furrowed, she swallowed, and wondered how on earth he could fit inside of her when she had only ever been able to fit two of her slendor fingers inside when she dared to explore.

Taking his lead, Scarlet laid back on the pillows and listened to his reassurance. Pain, then pleasure. Teeth catching the inside of her cheek, she felt his weight against her, and the tip of his organ brushing against her slick entrance. Suddenly, she startled to go pale, and his soothing voice only made it worse. The man above her was willing to take her virginity in a getle, caring way; the way she always imagined. She could see the compassion in his eyes along with the lust. Despite his need, she knew he didn't want to hurt her. He wanted to save her, protect her, pleasure her. He was willing to send himself into the line of fire for her, and it made Scarlet feel sick, because all the while, her mind was wandering to the strong body of Preston pressed against her's in his door way a few nights ago. She thought about his haunting green eyes flickering over her presence, looking at her like he had her figured out instantly. And suddenly, she let an image of Preston flood her mind, seeing him above her where Isaac as now, taking her swiftly without a concern or quick pause of permission. She imagined him claiming something that was already his, watching her writh and moan beneath him.

Suddenly, Scarlet froze beneath Isaac, her body visible stiffening. Her eyes got a bit wider, and her hands immediately went to his chest in an instant defense.

"No," she said quickly, so abruptly that is cut through the gentle atmosphere like a sharp knife. "Isaac, I can't. I'm... I'm not ready..." Her eyes flashed up at him, innocent and scared, and she looked up at him with guilt, knowing she was letting him down. "I'm so sorry... I-I shouldn't have let it get this far..." Her voice was trailing off as she sat up, scooting back toward the pillows and a few inches away from him. Her hand went to her hair, running her fingers through it as she brought her other hand to her chest. She looked up at him, her face visible pained at knowing how disappointed he must have felt. "God, I'm sorry, Isaac."

Looking away from him, her blue eyes caught sight of the window once again, watching the snow float in the air, creating fog against the glass. Shaking her head at herself, she imagined Preston up in his cabin, not giving her a second thought. But her she was, pushing away a man better than she deserved because his image insisted to invade her thoughts. In Ancient Myth, wasn't Hades the one obsessed with Persephone? Why did she think about a man who didn't give a damn for her, who thought she was the soul purpose for his damnation? Why couldn't she just forget about his dominating presence, and enjoy the gentle one she had before her? She hated him for this; for managing to intrigue her so much she couldn't stop thinking of him.

Pulling her knees up to her chest, still naked before Isaac, Scarlet swallowed and continued to stare out the window, too nervous to look over at Isaac and see what she knew would be frustration in his chocolate eyes.

 

[Raivh]

Something was off, and the moment she stiffened, her blue eyes growing wide with fear, Isaac felt his heart stop. He’d gone too far, but she’d seemed so willing, so ready. Her no entered his ears and ricocheted around in his mind. Nodding as he stared down at her, he mouthed the word okay and stroked her arm, expression solemn. She wasn’t ready. He could wait. It was her apologies that ate at him, made his stomach churn into knots. Lifting some of his weight off her, he stared down as she inched away, her terrified face etched permanently into his memory. A moment later, when she apologized yet again, he licked his lips and shook his head, eyebrows furrowed as he rolled onto his back. He sighed, not a sigh of disappointment or anger, but a sigh of relief that he’d had enough sense not to just follow through with his needs. The incredibly painful, tight and pulsing, need between his legs, balls full, and with no way to relieve himself that he would perform in front of her, not in this situation.

Slipping out of bed while she stared out the window, watching the snow, he pulled his flannel pants back on and tugged his shirt over his head. At least if he was clothed this would be less awkward, less tense—probably not. The ache in his ribs had returned to haunt him, stronger than before, but as he slid back into bed beside her, he sat close to her side. Lifting a hand, he ran the back of his knuckles down her cheek, and kissed her shoulder, trying to remove that anxious expression plastered on her face.

“It’s alright, Scarlet,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her cheek to try and reassure her. “I won’t force you, sweetheart. If you’re not ready and are as scared as you are, you won’t enjoy it, and I won’t as much as I know I can.” His hand slid over the nape of her neck, fingers stroking over soft skin. There was a warm smile on his face as he reached for the blanket, covering her bare form with it. Even in his clothes, Isaac could feel the cool air in the room seeping into his skin, and he knew she would be chilled once her senses returned. The snow that she watched so intently was the cause of the drop, but it seemed deeper than her skin, to his eyes.

“Merry Christmas,” he said genuinely, moving away from what had just happened, or trying to. “Think you can eat something yet?” Sliding out of bed, he padded over to where one of the house servants had placed the tray of food, and carried it back to bed. He set it on his lap and picked up the roll on the plate, splitting it in half and handing one part. “Have you checked under the tree downstairs? Dr. Haskell usually puts at least one gift out for each resident, so if you haven’t, you should.” Smiling, he took a bite of the roll in his hand, chewed, and swallowed. The gifts they received were usually expensive. Isaac couldn’t remember a time when he had received anything less than a small fortune. And typically they related to the past, to their Greek Gods and Goddesses.

--

The wind outside the cabin howled as snow whipped about in the air. Stomping his feet off on the mat just inside the door, a small load of wood in his arms, Preston strode over to the hearth and dropped the kindling beside it. There was already a fire going, warming the inside of the cabin while the heater worked as well, and he had dinner cooking on the stove in the kitchen. Built long after the manor, by Preston’s own two hands, the cabin had a mixture of modern features to compliment some that were more antique, like the furniture that was scattered about the home. Stoking the fire, he glanced toward one of the frosted over windows. His green eyes were dark, dull, and he snorted as he looked back to the fire, muttering the Goddess Persephone’s name under his breath.

It had been about a week since he’d left the manor to escape from her more than irritating presence. He felt calmer when he wasn’t around her or having to hear her voice. It was a sound that grated on his nerves and sent his blood and heart rate spiking. His anger flared anew just thinking about her, and the more he thought about her, the angrier he got. He licked his lips and smirked, remembering how he’d left her the day he’d taken off. She had looked shocked, perhaps even horrified, but there had been something else in her blue eyes, something that Preston both hated and lusted after; her own desire. Sharp on his tongue had been the taste of her arousal, and he’d almost taken her against the door right there, with Isaac watching. He didn’t care if the entire manor watched as he humiliated her, took her hard and deep and fast and wild. Cursing as a log tumbled out of the fireplace he reached down and picked it up. His calloused hand didn’t receive anything but a slight burn, as though it were accustomed to the heat. Bulging in his trousers was a hardening arousal, thoughts of Scarlet's young body swimming in his mind.

 

[Blair1216]

Scarlet tore her eyes from the window, and she looked down to see a piece of bread in Isaac's hand. A smile spread across her lips, and her lashes flashed upward, revealing her timid blue eyes. Her hand reached out, grabbing the morsel of food, then took a small bite out of it. When he mentioned the Christmas presents, she let her forehead wrinkle, wondering if Dr. Haskell would really get her something... She'd have to check in the morning, she thought, just to be polite. However, she was certain, after attempting to run away, she deserved nothing.

Scarlet didn't say much, but the silence that filled the room explained what she was feeling; Her sudden case of cold feet had little to do with her trust in Isaac, but something deep within herself. Devouring the piece of bread, tasting it's subtle flavor on her tongue, her mind wandered to how she could be so selfish to take advantage of what was in front of her. How awful of a person she was to be thinking of such a monster like Preston when she had Isaac looming over her with such an intensely warm feeling. His presence and the way she felt his chocolate eyes looking at her with such care made her heartbreak, knowing that she could never truly give him the companion he deserved.

"Isaac?" she whispered, snuggling deep in the sheets, suddenly feeling very exposed. Her body felt the chill from the weather outside of the room, and she found herself moving closer to him for warmth. Once they were finished eating what was on the plate. She settled against his side, taking in the heat of his body, and resting her head on his shoulder. Stilling having a hard time looking him in the eyes due to guilt, she looked straight ahead at the wall. "After my behavior, would it be too much to ask to stay with you tonight?"

Biting her lips, Scarlet snuck a glance up toward him, her blue eyes filled with remorse. Her hand went up to play with his shirt, trying to take her mind off of how utterly embarassed she was. Something inside of her didn't want to go upstairs alone and sleep in her room, the room Preston had violated her in, pushing his fingers inside of her virginal depths. She did not want to return to that scene tonight to relive the impure thoughts it gave her, making her yearn for Preston to take her again, but keep going. Deep within, she wanted him to take her hard and fast, without a second thought or a pause to make sure it was okay, and this scared her. She was not supposed to want such things, let alone from the man who fled her mind, and Scarlet would do anything to avoid leaving Isaac to only go up to her bed and fantasize about Preston until she was forced to rub herself into a release.

Looking into his eyes, Scarlet let her hand move south, and her eyes slightly widened to find his hard member. It only made her feel more guilty, to feel how he yearned for her, yet couldn't have her. Eyebrows furrowed, blue eyes locked on chocolate ones, she let her finger play with the waist band, her mind trying to weigh the consequence of her hand slipping side. Swallowing, she thought about how uncomfortable he was, and how he must feel like she was not only put off by him, but didn't care enough to give him pleasure. As she felt his breath quicken, Scarlet's hand plunged inside his pants, not giving herself enough time to think twice.

Scarlet let her finger tips skim the vein-ridden flesh of his cock, feeling how hard he still was for her. Gasping, her eyes swirled with something darker than before, she pulled her hand from inside his pants long enough to pull them down and let his member spring to life in the open. Looking down at it, Scarlet let out a little sigh and replaced her hand, letting it slowly move up and down it's length.

"Let me give you pleasure," she whispered, glancing back up at him. "Guide me."

With that, she stroked him, loving the feeling of him getting hard as steel in her fist. Groaning as she looked down, she caught sight of the drop of precum on the tip. With a daring looking in her eyes, and knowing that all she wanted was to make him realize how much she appreciated him, she leaned down and let the tip of her tongue reach out and a lick the little pearl of cum that formed on the head. Tasting the salty-sweet liquid, she wet her lips, and took another lap. This time, she licked around the entire head of his cock.

Scarlet released herself from the confines of the sheets, letting Isaac get a full view of her nude body, and settled down between his legs as she pumped his length with one hand and sucked on the tip with her small, warm mouth. Her other hand rest on his hip, balancing herself as she looked up at him. She was putting on a show, giving her best efforts to make up for her earlier disappointing behavior. Of course, she was not ready to give her virginity to him, but she would try to give him as much pleasure as possible tonight.