7th Circle (Hades Book 1)

  7th Circle

  Hades #1

  Tate James

  Contents

  STALK TATE

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  COMING SOON

  ANARCHY BLURB

  A note from the author

  Also By Tate James

  Tate James

  7th Circle: Hades #1

  Copyright © Tate James 2020

  All rights reserved

  First published in 2020

  James, Tate

  7th Circle: Hades #1

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. All characters in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cover design: Tamara Kokic

  Photographer: Wander Aguiar

  Models: Evan Keys

  Editing: Heather Long (content) and Jax Garren (line).

  To my first boyfriend, Nick.

  Thanks for letting me borrow some of our history in this story. You were a deadbeat, but goddamn your dick was huge.

  STALK TATE

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  1

  Ice clinked in my glass as I swirled the amber liquid. It was my fourth straight whiskey, and it'd barely even dented my shitty mood.

  It was my own fucking fault. I knew better. I knew he didn't feel the same way about me, but... ugh. I was such an idiot!

  I'd all but thrown myself at him—at a man I still needed to deal with in a professional capacity on a far too frequent basis. Well, as professional as anyone was in our line of business.

  Keeping the upper hand with him was going to be all too uncomfortable now that I'd gone and made a pass at him. And been rejected.

  His harsh words still echoed in my mind. "I don't fuck children." Like I was a fucking teenager or something. I wasn’t. I was a twenty-three-year-old successful business woman—among other things—and I was far from the immature, blushing virgin he must think I was. Maybe he was getting me confused with my eighteen-year-old, naïve as fuck sister, Persephone. That’s how he’d just treated me, anyway. Like a little kid with a crush.

  "Rough night?" A smooth voice asked, and I glanced over as a gorgeous man slid onto the barstool beside me. The bar was busy, no question, but not so busy that there weren't other seats available.

  I cocked a brow at the ballsy stranger and sipped my drink. "Nope," I lied, baring my teeth in a mockery of a smile. "Best night of my life." My sarcasm was thick enough to wade through. Maybe those whiskeys had started hitting me after all. "You?"

  "Me?" He flashed me a blinding smile, and my pulse raced in reaction. He was fucking stunning, model-level beautiful with a strong jaw dusted with scruff and dark lashes any woman would kill for. "Nah, I'm celebrating. Can I buy you a drink?"

  A grin curved my lips despite my shitty mood. "Sure." I gave a small signal to the bartender, silently ordering another of the same, then nodded to the handsome man beside me to indicate he was paying. He asked for the same as I was drinking and didn't speak again until our drinks were delivered in front of us in beautiful cut-crystal glasses.

  "Cheers," he murmured to me, clinking his glass gently against mine, then downing his whole drink in one mouthful. He ordered another, then slid his gaze back to meet mine.

  His eyes were a pretty mix of green and blue, and I found myself smiling at him.

  "So, what are we celebrating?" I asked, letting my words drawl in a clear indication I didn't actually believe him. Based on the way he’d thrown that drink back, his night was going about as well as mine was.

  The model-handsome man let his own lips curve in an answering smile. "My new job," he announced. His gaze flicked away from mine for a second, sweeping over the busy club and pausing briefly on the podium dancers. Both of them were down to their underwear, and the girl was climbing the pole with admirable ease. Totally mesmerizing.

  "Oh yeah?" I prompted, suddenly curious about my new drinking buddy. He was ballsy enough to approach me; maybe he could cure my shitty mood tonight. Best way to get over a guy was to get under a new one, right? "Congratulations. What's your new job?"

  His perfect face flashed with tension for just a second, then cleared into an easy smile again as he nodded to the male dancer on the podium. "That."

  I choked on my drink. Just a little bit. Just enough to shock me and flood my cheeks with heat as I dabbed my lips on a napkin.

  "That?" I repeated in a strangled voice, indicating to the gorgeous black man gyrating his hips in nothing but an electric-blue G-string. "You're a stripper?"

  My new friend grinned wider, turning back to me and sipping his new drink. "Male entertainer," he corrected with a small nod. "Yep, sure am." There was pride in his voice, but also an edge of something darker. Disappointment?

  Curiosity shoved aside my shock, and I ran my gaze over him as subtly as I could. He was pretty enough, no doubt, and the way he filled out his shirt spoke to a well-built frame. Yeah, he could definitely make good money taking his clothes off. Great money, when combined with that mischievous look in his eyes and the pure-sex way he brushed a droplet of whiskey from his lip and then licked his thumb.

  "That's cool," I commented. "So, which lucky club snapped you up? I bet you're going to be in high demand."

  His smile turned suggestive. "Did you just call me sexy?"

  I snickered a laugh. "Was that too subtle? You're scorching. I'm not surprised you got the job. So...?" I really, really wanted to know which club had picked up this diamond.

  The easy smile on his face faltered a split second as he answered. "This one, of course. 7th Circle is the hottest club in Shadow Grove; everyone knows that. And they pay their dancers better than all the other shitty clubs in town. I wouldn't even consider anywhere else, given the choice."

  I almost choked on my drink again. As it was, I needed to take another large gulp, finishing my glass, and indicated for another. Apparently, I was going to drown my sorrows tonight and pay for it with a hangover in the morning. Fuck it.

  "Wow," I replied, "that's..."

  "Not true," he admitted on a heavy sigh, dropping the smile like shedding a coat. "I wi
sh it was... it was supposed to be. I guess tonight's just not my night." He drained his glass again and reached for the fresh one the bartender had already made for him.

  One of my favorite things about the bartenders at 7th Circle: They were perceptive and often two steps ahead on drink orders.

  "They didn't hire you?" I asked in confusion. "Were you being auditioned by a blind man? Actually, that's no excuse. I reckon even a blind man could sense your sex appeal a mile away."

  My drinking buddy snorted a laugh. "Cute. Compliments will get you everywhere." He shot me a wink that went straight to my pussy, which throbbed in response. Goddamn.

  "Here's hoping," I muttered into my drink, watching him from under my lashes. He was young... but so was I. If he was legally drinking, then the age gap couldn't be more than two years, since I’d celebrated my twenty-third birthday just a few weeks ago.

  He’d heard my comment, based on the way a faint blush touched his cheeks, and he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "Well, I didn't even get an audition. The manager came out to meet me and announced that the interviews had been canceled. No explanation or anything, just... go home." He sighed heavily, then grimaced. "Can I tell you a secret?"

  I bit back the smile that wanted to cross my lips and nodded. "Of course. I'm a total vault."

  It was a bit adorable, seeing as we hadn't even exchanged names or... anything else, and he was acting a little like a twelve-year-old girl about to spill the details of her crush. Totally adorable. Don't get me wrong, I still badly wanted to drag him into one of the private VIP rooms and fuck his brains out. But I also wanted to pat his hair and have him tell me all his problems.

  "I really needed this job," he confessed, his voice losing all the joking it held earlier. "I've got some... family troubles. The money these dancers get paid would have really helped, and now I'm not really sure what to do."

  Sympathy turned my stomach, and I reached out to touch his hand where it rested on the bar top between us. "So, will you try and get another interview?"

  He wrinkled his nose and sipped his drink but didn't move his hand from under mine. "I don't really have the luxury of waiting around indefinitely for another shot here. I'll probably have a few more drinks and then go try my luck at Dick's."

  I cringed. Hard. "Please don't."

  Swinging Dick's was exactly what it sounded like: a seedy, disgusting, low-rate male strip club that horrifically exploited their dancers and ran a completely unsafe, unsupervised brothel in the basement. It was the type of business that was a carryover from the old Shadow Grove, and one that badly needed to be shut down.

  "Trust me," he replied in a bitter laugh, "it's the last thing I want to do. But I’m confident the tips for dancing—and extras—will pay better than any other jobs I can get on short notice and I need the money. Badly. As of this morning only two clubs in town were hiring, and 7th Circle apparently no longer is. So… I'm fast running out of options."

  Questions burned on the tip of my tongue, but they were questions I had no right asking this total stranger. Shit like, what had put him in such a desperate position that he'd even consider Dick's? Or why the hell hasn't he already made a fortune modeling or acting or something less nefarious?

  "You know, this place isn't all it seems," I told him slowly, watching him carefully for a reaction. When he spoke about the money 7th Circle dancers got, did he actually mean the dancers? Or was he talking about the "dancers" who only stripped as an advertisement for a darker, less legal menu behind the closed curtains of the VIP booths?

  He arched a half smile at me. "I know." His hand turned over under mine so we were palm to palm, and his thumb traced a slow circle on my skin.

  I pursed my lips, mulling that over. Maybe that was why the manager had sent him away without an interview. He had a total "good boy" vibe about him, despite looking like sex in jeans, an air of innocence that would be totally destroyed in the shadows of 7th Circle.

  I hated to admit it, but I was glad he hadn't been hired. On the other hand, I also didn't want him to end up in the filthy, cum-stained underground of Swinging Dick's.

  "Well..." I was being selfish. I was being totally selfish. But with the way my blood stirred at his touch, I knew he would be exactly what I needed to get over my embarrassing blunder from earlier, just a hot, nameless fuck to clear him from my mind and help me find my own steel-coated lady balls once more.

  I was a force to be reckoned with, and that rejection had knocked me around. But this guy... this guy could help me fix it.

  Maybe in return, I could find him a job. One that didn't involve actual sex for money.

  "Well?" he prompted, and I realized I'd trailed off as my thoughts ran wild.

  I bit my lip, debating how I could make tonight swing in my favor without sounding like a total slutty whore. But really, all I could focus on was getting impaled on his cock, which I was pretty sure wouldn't disappoint.

  "How about you just have fun tonight, and if you still want to try Dick's tomorrow... well, deal with that then. But you look like you need to just cut loose for a bit."

  He looked tempted but undecided, like he'd already resigned himself to his fate and was just working up the courage to go through with it. God knew why—I certainly wasn't known for my compassion or empathy—but I badly didn't want to see this gorgeous guy throw his life away at Dick's. Even if that meant breaking all my own rules.

  "Look, I know some people," I offered, remaining vague. "I can probably get you a job that pays twice as much as Dick's ever would with considerably fewer sexual assaults and STDs."

  His brow creased in suspicion. "What sort of job?"

  I snorted a laugh. "Seriously, does it matter? You were about to quite literally sell your body." Then something occurred to me that put a damper on my mood. Maybe this gorgeous guy wasn't even into chicks.

  But then, the way his fingers linked with mine as he pulled our hands from the bar top to rest in his lap told me that wasn't necessarily true.

  "Fair point," he conceded with a grimace. "So, I guess I should be asking what you want in return."

  My mood instantly soured, and I tugged my hand free of his grip. "Okay, this was a bad idea." I finished my drink and placed the glass back down just a touch harder than necessary. "Forget I offered."

  Because I didn't fuck my employees. Ever. And if I gave this guy a job—out of some weird, passing sense of pity and compassion—then fucked him in the bathroom? Yeah, that'd make me a total sleaze.

  Thank fuck I'd come to my senses before that happened.

  I slid off my stool and started walking away from a potentially terrible decision. No matter how hot I found that random guy, it wasn't worth the headache later.

  "Wait," he called out, hurrying after me and snagging my wrist before I could step out of the bar area and onto the dance floor. It was the quickest way out of 7th Circle, and I was officially ready to call my shitty night done.

  I glanced down at his hand on my wrist, but he wasn't gripping me tight enough to hurt. It was just a gesture, not a demand. I gave a small headshake to the huge bouncer across the room who was scowling at my new friend like he wanted to toss his ass out on the curb.

  "I'm sorry," the pretty guy apologized when I didn't yank my arm away and leave. Instead, I turned back to face him and tipped my head to look up at him. He was bigger than I'd first thought... and that only made me more attracted to him. Damn it.

  "It's fine," I lied. "It was a terrible idea. Sorry. But good luck with your job search."

  I tried to leave again, but his fingers tightened on my wrist, and a spark of renewed interest shot through me. Maybe he wasn't as innocent as I was writing him off as.

  "No, it's not. That was totally rude and presumptuous of me," he pressed on, tugging at my arm to turn me around once more. "I only meant, I'd be crazy grateful for any help in getting a job that doesn't require me to book weekly STD checkups." He cringed at that, and I couldn't bite back my smile.

 
; Goddamn it. Why did I want to help this guy so much? I never usually gave two shits about anyone outside my inner circle. I'd lost all faith in humanity a long time ago and generally treated anyone and everyone with a clear fuck you attitude. It kept me alive, and it kept me in business.

  "How old are you?" I asked him on a whim. Based solely on his looks, I might have placed him anywhere under twenty-eight. But there was just something about him that gave off a younger vibe.

  He frowned slightly. "Twenty-one."

  So maybe that was why. He didn't seem to have any obvious ink, so he probably wasn't mixed up with the Shadow Grove gangs. He probably had no idea what he was getting into.

  "Look, I didn't mean to insult you," he continued like I hadn't just deviated off subject. "Can we pretend that never happened? You don't need to help me with a job, and we can just hang out tonight.”

  Suspicion pricked at my senses. “Why?”

  He shrugged and gave me a shy grin. “Because you’re easily the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and I would never forgive myself if I fucked up this opportunity."

  "What opportunity?" I replied, frowning. Maybe I'd totally read this guy wrong. There was a reason I never picked up random strangers in bars.

  The handsome guy just gave a small shrug, looking nervous for about a split second before making his mind up about something. "This one," he replied, bringing a hand up to the back of my head. His fingers threaded into my deep copper hair and tilted my face up to meet his kiss.