Claimed by the Psychos (Fameverse #3)

Chapter 1 – JUNIPER

Chapter

One

JUNIPER

T he salt on the rim tastes like blood.

I run my finger around the crystal edge, watching the red liquid swirl in my glass like a tiny ocean of violence. The bartender keeps shooting me looks, and I guess I can't blame him considering I'm wearing more gemstones than fabric.

My dress clings to me like a second skin, blue as a bruise. The fabric whispers secrets against my thighs every time I shift on the barstool, and the neckline is just one little piece of body tape shy of public indecency.

Down the bar, I spot him in his perfectly tailored suit that cost a small fortune.

The black fabric hugs his tall frame like it was born to worship him, and even from here I can smell him.

That crisp, clean scent that makes me think of diamonds and winter mornings when the world is so cold it could shatter, tinged with alpha musk.

His dark hair is pulled back at the nape of his neck, looking almost blue in the dim lights above the bar.

He's talking to a man whose face I recognize from newspapers. A politician. One with soft hands and hard policies.

"How much for the pretty little thing in blue?"

Pretty little thing.

The words slither through the air and wrap around my throat. Evan used to call me that.

The glass shatters in my hand.

Crystal bites into my palm, a kiss of pain that brings me back to now, to here, to this bar that smells like expensive cologne and desperation.

Blood wells up, ruby drops mixing with the cocktail as I let the jagged edge fall into the drink.

The bartender glares at me, his mouth moving into a thin line that probably means I should apologize.

"Sorry," I giggle, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep and dark. I suck the blood from my fingertip, iron and salt dancing on my tongue. "Long nails, ya know?"

Felix beckons me with one long finger, and I slip off the stool like water finding its level.

My heels click against the marble floor, tap tap tap, like a countdown to something beautiful and terrible.

I make a game out of trying to follow the gold veins in the marble and probably look tipsy doing it.

Felix's hand finds the small of my back as I approach, warm through the thin fabric. "Juniper," he says, and his voice is silk over steel. "I'd like you to meet my new friend."

I have to stifle a nervous giggle that the man thankfully seems to find charming. The idea of Felix having friends is too funny. He has clients and he has me. There's no room for anything else between us.

The politician extends his hand, and I take it even though his palm is damp and his smile doesn't reach his eyes.

"James," he lies, because of course he does. Men like him always lie about their names, as if changing the label changes what's inside the box.

James and George and Paul and Curtis and Dan, and don't even get me started on the Johns. A surprising number of Johns in this line of work, really. Guess that figures.

I know who he really is. Senator Owen Fairview, the man who recently tried to strip omegas of their right to hold office.

The man whose former staffer still flinches when she hears his name.

The whispers follow him like loyal dogs, and now he wants to add me to his collection of pretty little broken things.

"Pleasure," I purr, letting my voice go soft and sweet. Men like him expect soft and sweet. They never see the thorns until they're already bleeding.

Felix's fingers press against my spine—one tap, two taps. Be good. As if I need the reminder. As if I don't know the game by now.

My favorite game.

"Shall we?" The senator's eyes are already undressing me, peeling away the blue silk to get to the flesh beneath. "I have a suite upstairs."

We move toward the elevator, Felix's hand never leaving my back. The senator tries to crowd me against the wall as soon as the doors close, his breath hot and bourbon-sweet against my neck.

"Not until we get to the room." Felix steps between us, smooth as smoke, and his smile is all teeth. "It's policy."

The senator's face darkens. Men like him aren't used to hearing no, aren't used to barriers between them and what they want. "I'm paying enough to skip the policies."

"The policies exist for everyone's protection.

" Felix's voice doesn't change, but something in his stance does.

Something that makes even an alpha like the senator take a small step back.

Felix looks pointedly at the small light in the upper corner of the elevator.

"Never know who's watching. I'm sure you understand. "

The elevator climbs higher, and I count the floors in heartbeats. Seven, eight, nine. The senator grumbles under his breath, but he keeps his distance. Felix has that effect on people. There's just something about him that screams predator. Must run in his family.

The suite is obscene in its luxury. Cream and gold everything, windows that stretch from floor to ceiling, and there, scattered across the king-sized bed like drops of blood, rose petals.

"Roses!" I squeal, launching myself onto the bed. The petals crush beneath me, releasing their perfume into the air.

The senator is on me in seconds, his hands finding my hips as his tie comes loose. "You like pretty things, don't you, sweetheart?"

His breath is too hot, his hands too heavy. For a moment, I'm not here. I'm back in that room with the water-stained ceiling and Evan's fingers around my throat, telling me what a pretty little thing I am, how lucky I am that he chose me as his pet, how?—

"Look, Felix! Bubbles!" I slip out of the senator's grasp, dancing toward the champagne bucket by the window. The bottle is slick with condensation, cold and solid against my palms.

Felix says nothing, but his eyes track my movement. Always watching. Always ready.

"Bring that over here, darlin'." The senator has already made himself comfortable on the edge of the bed, legs spread wide like he owns the world. Maybe he thinks he does.

I sway back to him, letting my hips roll with each step. "Do you like champagne, James?"

"I like watching pretty girls drink champagne."

I run my tongue along the bottle's neck, tasting expensive glass and possibility. His eyes go dark, pupils blown wide with greed.

Felix clears his throat. "The payment, sir."

"For fuck's sake." The senator pulls out a wad of cash thick enough to choke on, shoving it at Felix. "There. Happy? Now get lost." His hands are already on me again, pulling me down onto the bed. "I intend to get what I paid for."

The champagne bottle rolls beside me as the senator starts working at his belt. His weight presses down, and suddenly I'm drowning in memories—Evan's hands, Evan's weight, Evan's voice telling me to be grateful he pulled me off the streets and?—

The sound of wire singing through air cuts through the past.

Felix moves like poetry written in violence, the garrote wire catching the light for just a moment before it finds the senator's throat. The man's eyes go wide, hands scrabbling at the thin line cutting off his air.

Blood wells up where the wire bites deep. I reach out, catch a drop on my finger, bring it to my lips.

"I like blood even more than champagne," I tell him, and his eyes get even wider.

Felix is strong—stronger than he has any right to be—but the senator is fighting for his life now. Adrenaline makes warriors of even soft men. He manages to grab the champagne bottle, smashing it against Felix's head in a spray of glass and foam.

They grapple, a tangle of expensive suits and violence. Felix slams the senator's head against the glass table with a crack that sounds like breaking wishes. The man goes limp for a moment, just a moment, but it's enough.

A nervous giggle tears from my throat as I watch the blood pool onto the white carpet. Blood is so hard to clean off carpet. Even harder than getting rid of a body.

When the senator's eyes flutter open, he comes up swinging. His fist catches Felix in the ribs while he's still trying to get to his feet, and I hear my anchor grunt in pain.

No.

Nobody hurts Felix.

I leap onto the senator's back like a wildcat, the broken champagne bottle still in my hand. The jagged edge finds his throat like it was always meant to be there, opening him up in a red smile that stretches from ear to ear as I keep his short hair clutched in my other hand.

He makes a sound like a drain gurgling. His hands come up to his throat, trying to hold himself together, but blood is already painting even more of the cream carpet crimson.

Yep, the carpet definitely has to go.

He falls to his knees, then forward, and the light goes out of his eyes like someone flipped a switch.

"Are you alright?" I ask Felix, who's straightening his tie like we didn't just paint the room in someone's blood.

"Fine. You?"

"I'm fine," I promise.

His eyes grow cold again, the fire from seconds ago draining out of them. He looks around at the carnage with that blank look in his eyes. Blood on the walls, on the carpet, on us.

"We made a mess," I murmur, taking his hand as he helps me to my feet.

"He was stronger than he looked."

I scoff. "It's all those suppressants. They're not meant for long-term use."

"Don't you start lecturing me, Juney." But his hand is gentle when he ruffles my hair, leaving red streaks in the dark brown strands. "Come on. We need to start the cleanup."

"But it's such a nice room." I run my hand down his chest, feeling his heartbeat still racing under the expensive fabric. Blood always makes me feel alive, makes me feel real, makes me feel... "And you know what blood does to me."

"Juniper." But his protest is weak. It's always weak when I touch him like this. "This is a Level 2 cleanup, best case. And I still have to overwrite the security feeds when the guards change shift."

"Please?" I push him back onto the bed, right into the crushed rose petals. "Just once? Then we can be responsible contract killers, scout's honor."

He blows a puff of air through his nostrils, but his hands settle on my hips, fingers digging into the thin fabric. "You were never a Girl Scout."

"You don't know that," I say pointedly. "We met when we were teenagers."

"You would've been kicked out," he says with unearned confidence, pressing a kiss between my breasts. "You would've bitten someone on your first day."

"You're so mean," I whine, even as I sink to my knees between his legs, working at his belt buckle. His hand finds my hair, gentle as always, even now. "Just one little orgasm, then we'll clean up."

He gives a sigh of defeat. "You know I can't say no to you."

His cock is already hard when I free it, and I take him into my mouth like he's my favorite food. He tastes like winter and want, and when I look up at him through my lashes, his silver eyes are soft in a way they never are for anyone else.

I suck on the tip like a lollipop, then flick my tongue against the slit the way that always makes his eyes roll back into his head.

After a few minutes of teasing and worshiping in equal measure, he pulls me up, onto his lap, and his fingers find my panties under the blue dress.

"You're already so wet," he accuses, pushing two fingers inside me.

"I told you what blood does to me."

He kisses my mouth like he owns it, and pulls his fingers out only to adjust me so his crown slips past my soaked panties and presses against my entrance.

He slides into me in one smooth thrust, and I moan at the fullness.

This is what I need. This is what keeps the shadows at bay.

My hands free his hair from its tie as I ride him, all that black silk spilling over his shoulders.

I dig my fingers into it greedily and pull until his moans pour down my throat.

We fuck like the world is ending, like the dead man across the room might get up and object, like this is the only real thing in a universe of lies. He flips me onto my back, driving deeper, and I wrap my legs around his waist to keep him close.

Something moves in the corner of my vision. A shadow that shouldn't be there, shaped like hands and hunger and?—

Felix stills on top of me, in absolute control even in the throes of passion. "Are you alright?" His hand cups my cheek, thumb stroking over my cheekbone. "Are you seeing them again?"

"No." The lie tastes like copper on my tongue. "No, I'm fine. Please don't stop."

He searches my face for a moment, then kisses me deep. The shadows retreat, chased away by his touch. They always run from Felix. Even the things that aren't real know better than to challenge him.

"Harder," I beg against his mouth. "Fuck me harder."

He gives me what I need, what I always need—his body and his violence and his unwavering focus. The expensive suite fades away. The corpse becomes just another piece of furniture. There's only us, only this, only the sweet destruction we make together.

This is enough to keep the darkness away.

Or at least, I want it to be.

Just the two of us against the world.