Chapter 7 – Lilith
CHAPTER SEVEN
LILITH
As we enter the club, the scent of alcohol and sex invades my acute senses. I curl my lip in disgust.
“Man, is this what they meant when they said sex smells like?” Evelynn gags beside me.
“Yes. Mortal sex is always a little more repugnant,” I murmur.
My eyes scan the people here. I spot Lucian, sitting in one of his high-backed wooden chairs, surrounded by shadow, looking like the king of darkness. Ignoring everyone and everything around him, his vibrant amber eyes are fixed on Evelynn.
I nudge her with my elbow. “Er… your king is waiting for you, and he doesn’t look amused,” I whisper.
Her gaze lands on Lucian, and her lips part. In a blur, his body is millimetres from hers, his eyes dancing over her, drinking her in.
“You cut the call,” he growls, the deep, threatening vibration radiating across the room.
“I—” Evelynn begins, but her throat closes up as his fingertips trail across her exposed cleavage, up to her neck, stopping over the scar where he bit her.
“Are you forgetting who you belong to?” he asks, not letting her answer. “You are forgetting the threat that looms beyond these walls, the threat that will rip you from me,” he seethes.
I take a step back as Evelynn places her hand over his. “No one will ever take me from you,” she breathes, her infatuated gaze fusing with his.
Time to leave them to it. In five seconds, they’ll be fucking.
“I need a drink.”
No sooner have the words left my mouth than a bottle is held in front of my face.
“It’s the only way to survive their adoration for one another. I find myself becoming nauseous witnessing it,” Cain mutters.
I smirk and take the bottle from him, downing the last of the contents.
“I needed that,” I sigh.
“Fuck, good job I have another bottle,” he smirks. “I was going to drink alone like a depressive alcoholic on the roof. Care to join me?”
I grin. “That is the single best offer I’ve ever had.”
“Ladies first.” He gestures.
My smile widens. Could I fuck Cain? Just one night. He’s certainly good-looking; his long dark hair, the stubble, those blood-red eyes.
I make my way onto the roof and take a seat, my gaze roaming over Cain as he takes a seat next to me. And he’s built.
“You going to keep eye-fucking me all night?” he asks, a playful tone in his voice.
I snatch the bottle from him. “That depends on how strong this blood is,” I quip before taking a long swig. I cough. “Shit. That burns,” I wheeze.
He takes the bottle back and drinks, clearing his throat afterwards. “We hit a rehab place,” he smirks.
“Surely they would be clean?” I frown.
He smirks. “We may have been secretly supplying them. Hiding bottles of bourbon around the facility at night.”
My mouth drops in shock. “That’s so cruel.”
“Hey, if they wanted to quit, they could refuse it. Not like we’re forcing them to drink it,” he shrugs.
I shove at his arm. His big, muscled arm.
Jesus. I can’t be drunk already.
I yank the bottle off him and drink some more. “Fuck,” I cough.
He laughs, a deep, throaty laugh.
I blink and look out into the blanket of darkness. “Do you ever feel lonely being a nomad?”
“Sometimes. But then I also need to be alone,” he sighs.
“Yeah.” I nod in agreement. “When was the last time you got laid?” I ask bluntly, giving him a side glance.
He arches his brow, and I don’t miss how his gaze roams over my body. “A while,” is all he says.
I swallow. Was Evelynn right? Should I just fuck him? Get it out of my system?
I look away, clearing my throat. “Fucking Evelynn,” I sigh, shaking my head. I reach over and snatch the bottle from his hand, knocking back as much as I can handle.
“I’m guessing it’s been a while for you,” he chuckles.
Clearing my throat, I hand him back the bottle. “I haven’t been with anyone since I changed.”
“That was twenty-seven years ago,” he says in disbelief.
“Yeah,” I mumble. “I’m not exactly the trusting type, you know.”
His mouth sets to a thin line, his jaw tight. “Morbius is…” He pauses, shaking his head. “Morbius is venom.”
“I mean, yeah. He is. But don’t you think if things were different, he wouldn’t be where he is now?” I ask.
Cain frowns. “He made all his own decisions. He acted alone. He is responsible for everything,” he seethes, utter contempt dripping from every word.
“Don’t get me wrong, I hate him. I really hate him. But he came back for me. He changed me. He could have left me for dead,” I defend.
Cain’s lips part like he’s about to say something, but he swiftly presses the bottle to his lips and takes a long drink.
“I killed my wife.” His voice is low. “She was everything to me. I killed her: no one else to blame but me. I will carry that guilt, that regret, that pain with me for the rest of my existence. If Morbius is the man you think he is, then he would be doing everything in his power to regain your trust, to make sure you are happy. He wouldn’t be attacking your friends, the ones that have been there for you every day since,” he grinds out.
I nod, his words stinging even though I know there is truth to them.
“What do you miss the most?” I ask, completely changing the subject.
“Wow, you switched that up quick.”
I shrug. “The truth hurts, and tonight I just want to forget the truth. Forget everything that has brought me here. I want to laugh again. I want just to be me,” I confess.
Silence stretches between us and, for a moment, I fear he’ll leave me alone on the roof.
I’m so tired of being alone.
“I miss food,” he says at last, breaking the silence, a soft smile on his lips.
Grateful, I turn to face him, sitting cross-legged. “What food?” I press.
He looks up to the stars, licking his lips. “Hot chocolate fudge cake with vanilla ice cream. You?”
“Damn, starting strong,” I laugh. “Okay… you may think this is pathetic, but I miss my morning coffee. I miss the feeling that first sip of the day gives you. The hot liquid warming you up from the inside out.” I sigh, eyes closing as I relive the memory.
“Steak. Potatoes smothered in butter. Not that fake butter spread. I’m talking proper butter. Irish butter,” he sighs, his eyes lighting up at the memory.
“I mean, we drink from flesh. It’s not too dissimilar to steak,” I shrug.
“You were a vegetarian, weren’t you?” he arches his brow.
“No,” I laugh.
“Steak is nothing like drinking human blood,” he counters, shaking his head and looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“Okay, okay,” I relent, holding my hands up in surrender. “You’re right, it’s not alike. I was trying to put a positive spin on our situation.”
A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest. “I don’t think living this life and the word ‘positive’ have ever been mentioned in the same sentence.”
I tilt my head to the side, watching his stern exterior melt away as the pungent blood relaxes him and the light-hearted conversation evaporates the darkness that always seems to surround him.
I take the bottle and drink from it. The warm buzz pulses through my veins. I hand him the bottle before I get to my feet.
Pulling out my phone, I scroll until I find the song. Black Sabbath’s War Pigs starts.
I set my phone down and begin bouncing lightly on my feet, my head bobbing to the beat. A wide smile spreads across my face.
“Dance with me,” I encourage Cain.
He shakes his head in amusement.
I pretend to play the drums as my body sways and moves to the music. Laughter escapes me as I dance around on the roof of the club, carefree. Just like I used to do in my room before…
Before everything.
“Satan laughing spreads his wings!” I sing before going hard on the air drums again. “Come on!” I urge.
Cain gets to his feet, planting his boots wide, his blood-red eyes dancing with amusement as he positions his hands like he’s holding a guitar and begins to mimic the guitar solo, head banging, his long hair whipping and flowing as he plays air guitar.
I can’t contain the laughter. The sheer silliness of one of the deadliest men I’ve ever met rocking out with me on the roof, playing air guitar, is too much.
As the song ends, both of us laughing, our gazes lock. The laughter slowly dies.
Aerosmith’s Dream On begins. The electricity between us grows. His smile slowly fades, as does mine.
My eyes flicker to his mouth, my brain flooding with desire. It could be the blood. It could be Evelynn’s comment earlier. It could be everything combined.
But I want him to kiss me. I want to feel his mouth on mine.
I take a step closer and so does he, our bodies now millimetres apart. He leans down, pausing, his lips ghosting over mine.
“This could be a huge mistake,” he whispers.
“I’m good at making mistakes,” I choke, pressing my mouth to his.
His hands cup my face, his fingers threading into my hair and gripping it tight in his fists as he deepens the kiss.
The kiss is good. It’s nice. But something doesn’t feel right.
He breaks the kiss, his eyes locking with mine.
“That was, er…” he pauses.
“Weird,” I say, my lips curving slightly.
He sighs with relief. “Thank fuck.” Keeping hold of my face, his thumbs caress my cheeks. “It’s not that I don’t find you attractive,” he clarifies.
“Me neither. I mean, I think you’re hot. It was just like…” I pause, trying to think of the word.
“Numb,” he says for me.
I nod. “Yes. Like I wanted to enjoy the kiss, but I felt nothing.”
He places a soft kiss on my temple and, to my surprise, pulls me into his arms, holding me tight against him.
I hug him back. “Now this feels good,” I mumble, snuggling in.
“We could fuck without kissing?” he teases, humour clear in his voice.
I playfully jab him in the ribs. “Don’t spoil it.”
He laughs, and the sound rumbles against my ear.
“Can we just lie together and look up at the stars?” I ask.
“Sounds very romantic,” he counters.
“Fully clothed. Your dick stays in your pants,” I assert.
“Well, when you put it like that, how can I resist?” he mocks.
I slap his chest playfully. He lies down and holds out his arm for me to join him.
I grin and lie down beside him, resting my head on his chest as his fingers lazily caress my hair.
“This,” he murmurs. “This is what I miss the most,” he rasps.
I don’t lift my head to look at him, feeling the pain in his words. “Me too,” I agree.