“More, my lord?” the red-haired girl asked. She knelt on the edge of my black chaise lounge and ran a finger over my bare chest.

“Yes,” I said, my voice low.

Wearing a seductive smile, she stepped away from the chaise lounge and strolled to the bar on my right. She poured me another double shot of whiskey, while the other girls—a blonde, a brunette, a black, and an Asian one—danced three feet from me. Danced was a nice way to put it. Dressed in nothing more than scant tops covering only their nipples and long, flowy skirts with several slits from top to bottom, they kissed and touched each other, moving their hips as if they couldn’t wait to get some.

For a few seconds, I became aroused and considered joining them.

But only for a few seconds.

Then the memories came crashing over me, and I sat there, staring at the crystal chandelier on the ceiling, not acknowledging the dancers.

The memories …

The Soul Oath, the Cup of Life, my Dark Lords’ betrayal … my helplessness.

I looked down at the black web on my left chest where the Black Thorn had broken my skin and spread its poison. I had lived, but I didn’t know for how much longer. In the past three weeks, the tendrils had grown an inch or so.

Would it keep spreading? If they did, what would happen when they covered every inch of my skin? Would the poison finally kill me? What if my soul didn’t find a host this time? And what if it did? Would I grow up with another family in this dark world? By then, Imha and Omi would have destroyed everything. There would be no hosts to take me.

I picked up a shirt from the hardwood floor and was about to pull it over my head to hide the black web when the red-haired girl came back with my drink.

She bowed. “Is there anything else I can do for you, my lord?” I took my drink and shook my head. “Are you sure?” she asked, gesturing to the other girls.

They stopped dancing and stepped aside, revealing a new girl in their midst. A girl who haunted my dreams and nightmares. A girl who didn’t leave my mind even during the waking hours. A girl who was too much for me, and yet, I couldn’t stop desiring her.

Nadine.

She stared at me with her big green eyes, her red lips pulling into a naughty smirk. Her long brown hair fell into waves down her back, her flawless skin shone, and her body … my gods, her lean body looked fantastic in the scant top and flowy skirt.

My heart stuttered, and I sat up.

She strolled to me, her hips swishing, her smile widening. By the gods, she was so beautiful it hurt.

Without a word, she knelt on the chaise and crawled over me. I lay back down as she straddled me, placing her hips right above mine and resting her hands on my chest.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

This woman would be the death of me.

“Kiss me,” she whispered, leaning into me.

Hell, yeah.

I ran my hands over the smooth skin of her waist, up her back, until I was cupping her neck and pulling her down to me.

Something squeaked to my right.

I snapped my head to the side and saw Rok catching a rat in the corner of the room.

The illusion broke, and I looked around at the shitty motel room. There weren’t any hardwood floors, or velvet chaises, or crystals chandeliers, or bars filled with drinks, or sexy dancers.

Or Nadine.

It had been a hallucination. The fourth one this week.

I stared at the half-empty bottle of whiskey in my hand. I didn’t know if the constant booze was responsible for the hallucinations, or if it was my tricky mind, my desire, or my powers. I didn’t care either.

As much as I loved daydreaming about Nadine, it wasn’t helping.

I shot up from the moldy mattress on the ratty twin bed and threw the bottle at the wall. The glass shards and the rest of the liquid splashed everywhere. A large piece fell next to my bare feet.

I crouched down and closed my hand around it, squeezing as hard as I could. Blood seeped from my fist and pain spread through my body. I gritted my teeth and welcomed it. The pain would wake me up and keep me on my toes.

The pain would knock some sense into me.

I let out a long breath.

It was time to stop running—or stop looking for the Death Lords. I didn’t think I had the courage to face Nadine yet, but I couldn’t sit here and wait for the Cup of Life to appear in front of me. I had to do something.

I picked up my shirt from the chaise and pulled it over my head. Then I put on my boots and leather jacket. I probably looked like shit but didn’t really care. The one person who might make me want to look presentable wouldn’t see me anytime soon.

“You know what to do,” I said to Rok. He let out a short squawk and went back to his rat.

I left a few bills on the bed to pay for the room, and then teleported out of there.

The world spun around me before settling in the luscious room of my illusions. Only this one wasn’t an illusion. This was one of the rooms in my corner of the underworld—my own little palace—the only place where no one else could find me unless I wanted them too.

I should have come here weeks ago, right after I left Nasya’s island. I hadn’t though. I hadn’t because here I was the almighty god of death and the dead. Here, I was the leader. And nothing reminded me more that I had failed than being in a position of leadership.

I dropped on the chaise lounge, a real one, and exhaled.

I was tired. Tired of being tough, tired of running, tired of pretending.

Feeling all crappy and emotional, a sudden wish to talk to someone hit me strong and hard. But who could I talk to? Levi was the first one that came to mind. He had always been my brother and best friend, even when we didn’t always see eye to eye. But that meant returning to NYC, and I wasn’t ready. Not yet.

Then I remembered someone who was here in the underworld, and I could easily summon him with a snap of my fingers. Which was exactly what I did.

Morgan appeared in front me. He looked around, his eyes wide. “What …? Where …?” Then he saw me, and his eyes widened more. “My lord.” He knelt in front of me, his head low. “My lord, forgive me. By the Everlast, my lord, I had no idea what I was doing. I didn’t think the dagger would influence me, and I still can’t believe my will was so weak. Please, forgive me, my lord. I beg you, I—”

“Shut up, Morgan,” I snapped. He closed his mouth and kept his head low. “I know all that. I know you would never willingly betray us.”

He peeked at me from behind his hair. “You do?”

I nodded. “Don’t worry. I didn’t summon you to judge you.”

“Then why did you summon me, my lord?”

“Because …” I poured whiskey into two glasses, gritting my teeth. I couldn’t believe I would say it out loud. I took a deep breath and confessed, “I’m lost, and I need some guidance.” I took a glass to him. “Now get up and act normal before I send you back to your corner of the underworld.”

He stood and took the glass from me. “Actually, my lord, my corner is quite nice, thank you.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Don’t you want to hear me?”

“Of course I do, my lord. That’s not what …” He shook his head. “What can I help you with?”

“First, I don’t want your help … I just need you to listen.” As if listening would help me, let me vent. Like a therapist. So fucked up.

I asked him to sit down on one of the chaises, and then told him everything that had happened since he had been gone. I told him how Nadine felt guilty about killing him, that she had nightmares about him every night.

“She did the right thing,” he said. “I don’t blame her. If I could have, I would have asked her to kill me. There is nothing to forgive.”

I opened my mouth to tell him I wouldn’t say any of that to her but decided to keep going with my tale. I told him about visiting the Fates, the Cup of Life, Nasya, the tests, the Death Lords’ betrayal. I told him I lost the cup, and the deal the Death Lords proposed.

I took off my shirt and showed him the black web spreading across my chest.

“By the Everlast,” Morgan whispered. “Does it hurt?”

I shook my head. “Not anymore. It did, in the beginning. I guess it’s a silent poison.”

“But … what will happen when it—?”

“I don’t know and that’s not why I called you here. I just wanted someone to vent to.”

He tilted his head, his eyes boring into mine. “Are you sure?” I remained quiet, and he continued, “Because you’re a god, my lord. You don’t actually need me or anyone else. You could summon a bunch of nobodies if you wanted just to be heard. But you called me.”

I drank my whiskey in one swallow. At this rate, I wouldn’t be surprise if ninety percent of my body and soul were made of alcohol.

I groaned, hating how right he was. “Then, my newest advisor, what should I do?”

He cleared his throat. “Well, to put it bluntly, you should wipe that pout from your face and go back.”

I sighed. “Easier said than done.”

“Are you afraid of facing Nadine, my lord?” he asked. I averted my eyes. Was that so easy to see? He offered me a sympathetic smile. “Nadine doesn’t know what happened with the Cup of Life, and she doesn’t need to know. You don’t need to give her false hope. Just keep going because nothing has changed.”

“But it has.”

“Not really, not to her.” He stood and grabbed the empty glass from my hand. “Besides, they need you. They can use all the help they can get with this war. And you’re not just any help. You’re a powerful god.” At the bar, he refilled our glasses. “Believe me, they will be glad to have you back. On their side.”

He handed me my glass back. I stared at it, looking for answers as if they were hidden in the brown-gold liquid. If they had been, I would have found them by now, because I probably had drank enough whiskey to get a whole nation drunk. No, the answers weren’t hidden in the whiskey. The answers were in Morgan. And in me too. I had already known what he would say, but hearing it out loud, hearing the truth from someone I trusted, seeing his serene and strong face while saying it, that was what I needed. That alone brought courage to my veins.

I pushed the glass aside. “All right. Let’s get ready, then.”