Insatiable (Inferno Games #3)

19. Like Old Times

19

LIKE OLD TIMES

JULIETTE

“ H ow is it that slutty Tate got through and my ex got through, but not your friends?” I snap, sounding more pissed off than I should. It’s not Twila’s fault, I know that. But she’s had it easy, waltzing through these circles without having to do anything more dangerous than sucking Hades' cock—a job I used to want, once upon a time.

“The trial was the trial,” Twila says, holding her hands up in surrender. “You know I don’t get any say in it. And don’t ask about the next one either. I have no idea what it is.”

“I’m not even in the next trial,” I grumble, crossing my arms and slumping in my seat.

It’s not like me to give up, but without fucking Hades myself, I don’t know how to sneak my way back into the games, and I doubt Twila will take too kindly to me trying it on with her partner. Besides, however much I hate to admit it, Hades has never even looked my way once Twila was on the scene. I’d try fucking Anthura, but look how that turned out for Felix. The guy has done nothing but argue with the woman since we got to this circle and he looks completely miserable. Besides, the thought makes me feel almost as nauseous as fucking Orlin. Then the thought changes. “Fuck me, I’ve got it!”

Quinn raises her eyebrows. “Herpes?”

I give her a deadpan stare. “Very funny. I’ve figured a way to get us all back in the games. Me, Rowena and Dade.”

“Do I want to hear this?” Twila asks.

I look at her and weigh up her question. On one hand, she’s my friend and I trust her, but on the other she is still sleeping with Hades and I’m not sure I want this to get back to him.

“Probably not. Sorry.”

Twila gives me a grin. “Thank fuck. I was worried I was going to have to sit here with my fingers in my ears singing la la la, or worse still, have to listen to another harebrained scheme. I think Hades is probably ready for bed now, anyway.” She stands up from the table.

“Bed?” Quinn looks at her Hell Cell. “It’s half-past six.”

Twila winks. “I never said he would be sleeping.”

“I love that girl,” I say as she wanders back across to Hades on the other side of the canteen. Sure enough, they both leave together, his hand on her ass the whole way to the elevators.

“So?” Quinn leans across the table, her expression one of excitement. “How do we get past the hellbeast? Don’t tell me you were actually thinking of fucking it. I thought that was a joke.”

“It was,” I reply, keeping my voice low, so no one else can hear. “It wasn’t the hellbeast I was thinking of, although I could be persuaded to change my mind. What does it look like, anyway?”

“Like a big hairy monster.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“It had teeth longer than my forearm and claws like scythes.” She brings up a photo of it on her Hell Cell.

I scrunch up my nose. It was worth a thought and probably sexier than the alternative, which I put to Quinn.

“So Twila is hooking up with Hades and basically has a free passport through the circles. Felix has been hooking up with Anthura and by some unknown miracle has managed to get through unscathed,” I say sarcastically.

“What are you saying? You’re going to seduce George?”

I shrug my shoulders nonchalantly, as though the thought doesn’t make me feel sick to my stomach. “I honestly thought I was going to have to fuck Orlin throughout the last circle.”

“Which you didn’t?”

“No! I fucked those two gorgeous bodyguards of Noémi’s, which also turned out to be revolting imps, but there’s my point. I know I can seduce even the grossest of creatures and not lose my lunch if it gets me what I want.”

Quinn’s face is a screwed up picture of disgust. “Are you serious?”

“Have you figured out a way to get past the hellbeast yet?”

“No.”

I cross my arms. “Then I’m serious. I’ll charm my way into George’s bed and when I have him wrapped round my little finger, I’ll put it to him that I want me, Ro and Dade to be back in the games. Call it taking one for the team.”

“Well, I can’t say you’re not a devoted friend, but George? I think I would rather fuck Orlin, and that’s saying something.”

“I’d rather fuck anyone than George. Hell, I’d even rather fuck Tate, but needs must. I’m not staying in this circle, doomed to an eternity without a bacon sandwich. I know how to seduce men, Quinn. It’s probably all I am good for.”

Quinn reaches out and places her hand on my arm. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

I shake my head, determined to finally do something to help my friends, no matter how awful. “Where do you think he’ll be?”

Quinn shakes her head as though I’ve lost it and I probably have. What I’m considering is horrific. Trying to push the image of a naked George to the back of my head, I stand before I change my mind.

“I’m going to check on Dade,” Quinn says on a sigh, “But do me a favor. If George tries to eat you, send me a message on the Hell Cell and I’ll come and save you.”

Being eaten by George. I hadn’t thought of that. My stomach lurches, but as I’ve not got any food in it and I haven’t developed Ro’s weird ability to puke nothing, I put my best foot forward and head to the elevator. I don’t have a marble key to get to the demon level like Dade has, so I press the button to the lowest level I can get to. The level with the Earthery.

Once down there, I don’t know which way to turn. It’s a long shot he’ll be down here anyway, but half of me is hoping I don’t find him so I can’t put this ridiculous plan into action. Infernos’ red lights shine brightly, illuminating the cobbled courtyard. If only they served something other than imaginary alcohol, I’d go in there and get drunk. As they don’t, I head right and walk down the long row of classrooms. I’ve only ever seen the classrooms full of Inferno Games competitors, but now as I open the doors to peek into each one, I find the skeletal inhabitants of Gluttony taking night school classes. I almost stop in the one where they are learning to decorate cakes until I see they are using cardboard cakes and shaving foam as the buttercream. I try a few more, coming to a stop in the painting class. Scanning the room, I hope to see Rowena, who I know signed up for this class, but she’s not here. I guess she’s sick or tired. She did leave rather swiftly earlier. I remember my own pregnancies and how tired I felt all the time. Closing the door, I head into the last classroom. My breath catches when I see Tate. The class seems to be dressmaking as the room is filled with a variety of tailor’s dummies, all of which are wider than the painfully thin people who are busy with pins and scissors and material. Tate is making some kind of flowing white dress. Surprising really, as everything I’ve seen her wear so far has been uber slutty with less material than a handkerchief. I mentally say sorry to Rowena for thinking of the word slut, but then take it back as I watch the way Tate runs her hand over the white material, bending over, revealing her tits at the front and ass at the back much to the delight of the skinny tutor. She’s probably making a wedding gown to marry Tomas in. I close the door before she sees me and head back along the corridor. With no idea where to go next, I wander down the other way, past the shops. In the previous circles, this area was always bustling with people and featured shops I’d actually want to visit, like bakeries and cafes. Now, the shops are deserted except for the bored-looking demon shopkeepers, their eyes glazed with disinterest.

Even the clothes shops that I loved hold no interest for me. The clothes in the windows are not even size zero owing to the fact that no one here has an ounce of flesh on them. Maybe I should have signed up to the dressmaking class too, but then I remember Tate is in it.

George isn’t here. I honestly didn’t think he would be, but my plan is the only way I can think to get us all out of this shit hole. I know I told Quinn I’d stay with Rowena, and I will if I have to, but going an eternity without ever tasting food again will drive me crazy within weeks.

At the end of the corridor, just as I turn to head back, something slams me into the wall, knocking the wind out of me. My first instinct is to fight back, thinking it's one of the demons lurking around. I knee it hard between the legs, but it pulls back quickly, and I catch a glimpse of the person in the dim light.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Juliette?” she snaps, stepping closer again. “I’ve never been anything but nice to you, and you treat me like an annoying bitch.”

“If the shoe fits,” I mutter, straightening up as she finally steps back, giving me space to breathe.

She crosses her arms, her expression full of frustration. “Why? Why am I a bitch, Juliette? I know you have some seriously fucked-up unresolved issues with Tomas, but I’ve told you time and time again—I'm not fucking him. I get that men lie, but I don’t have any reason to. I like him, yes, but not in that way.”

“Every time I see him, you’re there, simpering with those damn puppy-dog eyes. It’s pathetic,” I spit back, refusing to let up.

Her jaw tightens, and for a moment, she looks like she’s about to walk away. But then she squares her shoulders and leans in so closely that I can feel her breath on my cheek. “You want to know why I sit with Tomas? Because he's my only friend in this place. And all he ever talks about is you, Juliette. Every single conversation is about you and how to get through your thick skull, how much he still loves you.”

Her words hang heavy in the air, and for a second, I don't know how to respond.

“Tomas has always loved me,” I say, my gaze narrowing as I take in her silvery blonde hair and full lips, “but never enough to stop him from cheating on me with every blonde that catches his eye.”

Tate puts her arm to the wall behind me, effectively hemming me in. Frustration is visible in every line of her body that’s almost pressing me to the wall. “Maybe he’s changed. As far as I know, he’s not with anyone else, and for the millionth time, he’s definitely not with me. I don’t know how to make it any clearer.”

I scoff, but before I can say anything, she cuts me off. “You need to figure this out, Juliette. Either go find Tomas and get back with him, or tell him it’s over for good. But whatever you do, leave me out of it. This is none of my business, and I’m sick of you glaring at me every time I come down to the canteen and stalking me when I’m in my classes.”

Indignation comes over me. As if I’d stalk anybody let alone her, but she’s already walking away.

Thoughts of fucking George have flown out the window as I ponder Tate’s words. She’s right about one thing—I need to figure out what I want, and I can’t do that wandering aimlessly around the lower level of Gluttony. My heart pounds as I take the elevator back up to the main floor and head to the platform that leads to Tomas’s room. The image of her face and the way she glared at me, inches from my own face, don’t leave me as the platform ascends. I’m still not sure what I want when I knock on his door, but I know I have to face him, one way or another.

The door swings open, and the surprise on his face is unmistakable. “Jules. What a nice surprise. Come in.”

His tone is casual, but his eyes search mine as he steps aside to let me in. My gaze sweeps over the room, immediately scanning for signs of another woman. His bed is roughly made, yesterday’s clothes scattered on the floor, but there’s no evidence that anyone else has been here recently. I can’t smell perfume or anything suspicious—just the ever-present scent of bacon that permeates Gluttony, mixed with the faint sulfur smell that’s everywhere in Hell.

“Sorry about the mess,” Tomas says, picking up his clothes and tossing them into the walk-in wardrobe. “I’d have cleaned up if I knew you were coming. Everything alright?”

“I’m fine,” I say, though the tightness in my chest betrays me, my heart still racing. My mind struggles to catch up with the whirlwind of emotions I’m drowning in. I sit down on the edge of the bed, feeling the weight of the question I’ve been avoiding for far too long pressing against my lips. “Tomas,” I begin, my voice barely above a whisper, “do you love me?”

He stiffens, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Jules,” he breathes, hurt flickering across his face. “How can you ask that? You know I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment we met in school.”

His words hang in the air, familiar yet distant. I want to believe him, but a part of me can’t shake the doubt that’s been growing inside, slowly, like a thorn digging deeper with each lie, each betrayal. I search his face for something—anything—that will make it all make sense, but all I feel is the same old ache. I know he thinks he means it, but maybe our versions of love are different. Mine don’t include having multiple partners behind his back.

He sits on the bed next to me and pulls my chin up so I’m looking into his eyes. Brown, with a twinkle that would make my heart race once upon a time. “You are the love of my life, the mother of my kids, the sun to my moon.”

I shake my head sadly. I remember the first time he said that to me. I’d thought it was so romantic. Now it sounds like a cheesy cliché. “Are you sleeping with Tate?”

He doesn’t look surprised by my question. I’ve insinuated it enough in the last few weeks. He shakes his head. “No. Never.”

“She was with you at the hospital. I saw her.”

Finally I see surprise in his eyes. Of course he didn’t think I’d have noticed. The look in his eyes confirm I wasn’t imagining it.

“She came down to see how you were.”

“Bullshit!” I shake my head and close my eyes.

“Fine. She might have come down to see how I was holding up, but that’s all. I didn’t sleep with her.”

I open my eyes and look at him. This time I believe him. My bullshit detector has grown over the years, but this time he might actually be telling the truth. “What about anyone else?”

“Since the moment I saw that you were down here, I haven’t looked at another woman. I don’t want anyone else. It’s only you. It’s only ever been you.”

His words churn my stomach, but when he leans in to kiss me and the familiar taste of him hits me, I find myself yearning for a time when we were younger and things were easy. And then I find myself falling into his kiss.