Chapter 25
Chapter
Twenty-Five
Lizette
H is eyes are blazing darkness. The blue so black it burns me. And I shake. Fear and horror at war within me.
And something else.
Something I can’t fathom.
He killed for me. Broke that man’s neck.
I’m turned on.
Dante’s got me locked to the spot. Like this, he doesn’t just look like the devil. He is the devil.
And the devil has never been more dangerous, more controlled, with terrible power that pushes at me, filling the room. And he’s never, ever been so desirable.
My knees almost buckle, and I clutch at the curtain, falling back, and slamming into the door where Knight shut it.
I’m alone with him and a corpse, and Dante’s covered in blood.
One corner of his mouth lifts, and he snarls low .
The sound vibrates through me, sending throbbing tendrils of need down to my sex, making me wet with slick.
He comes right up to me but doesn’t touch. Doesn’t lay a finger on me.
Somehow, that’s worse.
So much worse.
I feel…violated. Roughed up.
Untouched in the worst way.
Like I’m unworthy. And I did it to myself this time.
My eyes burn hot with unshed tears as his glow with the darkest midnight blue fire. And heat surges in me, too.
My clit throbs like it needs something, like it needs him. His touch. His fingers. Mouth.
Like—
“Why the fuck did you take him in here? Got a death wish?”
“No,” I whisper, “I just thought…”
“You’d have him killed instead?” Dante laughs, and the dark, jagged sound sinks into me, lacerating as it goes.
“I didn’t.”
“Yeah, you did. He’s dead, Angel.” He smiles. Mockingly.
And then he comes close, and through the copper smell of blood, I get a hit of him to my veins. He sniffs, breathing me in, nose and lips skimming just above the surface of my skin, and now it’s not just my clit reacting.
It’s all of me.
I throb everywhere.
“They’re not tipping me out there,” I say. “I had to do something.”
“No one’s tipping you for a fucked up lap dance either.”
I’m so angry, I can barely get words out. “Did you say something to them?” I ask.
“Oh, Angel, why the fuck would I talk to assholes about that? Now, get the fuck out and go wait in my office. And consider yourself off waitressing duty.”
“But—”
“I don’t like insubordination,” he says, his tone silky steel threads that whip against my skin with every word. “I do like punishment. So, think about that next time you want to talk back. Get the fuck out and wait. Now.”
I clamp my mouth shut, my heart slamming against my ribs, fear making all my extremities ice, and I fumble with the curtain, then the door, and I stumble out into the floor of the bar.
Every eye is glued to me as I try to slow down to get across. But I can’t. My chest is tight with the horror of him killing that man, for what? Touching me? It’s still swirling in my head.
I don’t understand my reactions. Yes, there’s horror, and I get that. But the thrill and the need and the way I ache for Dante? That I don’t get. My vision waivers, and I almost fall into someone’s lap. But a hand grabs me. It’s firm but not biting, and I look up.
Darcy.
I can’t even speak. She leads me through and into the back and shoves me on a chair in a small office.
Not his office though. This is one where the main staff come and go, where someone can watch everything on a bank of screens.
My breath hitches.
“Dante k-killed him.”
“I’m aware,” she says, as she leans against the plain desk, and she crosses her arms over her black dress. “What the fuck were you thinking? You dumb bitch.”
What was I thinking? “I thought I could make some more tips.”
She sighs, straightens, and picks up some whiskey. Then she pours some in two glasses and hands one to me.
“Drink,” she says. “You can’t be that na?ve. The men here will eat you alive, think you’re offering yourself for sex. They all think that in those rooms. The trick is to handle it and not upset them. And you, kid, will end up having sex every single time. Whether you want to or not.”
“I—”
“Dennis touched you, didn’t he?”
I lift the glass with both hands and drink it down, the warmth of the burn doing little to help.
Putting a name to the dead man makes him more real. And…I swallow. “Yes.”
“Of course he did. The guy was a total douche. So no one’s going to miss him. He’s married. Fucking beta asshole, treats his wife terribly. He brags about it, but he spends big, and he has a lot of gamma and delta friends. A few alpha acquaintances. So, I bet he knew what a prize you are.” She shakes her head.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” I didn’t mean to get someone killed.
Even that man, who turned out to be way worse than I thought. But he kept getting bolder, kept telling me how to get closer to him or he wouldn’t pay, to show more skin. And he undid his pants and?—
I tried my best to ignore that, tried to be cute and sweet and not give him everything he wanted. After all, it was just a dance. Right?
“You’re too fucking young to be in here. Dante should know better. The Unholy Trinity have a lot of businesses. A lot of pies. Some of them are legit. So, they should’ve put you in something like that instead of…shit. Instead of here, in the middle of it.”
“The Council wants me.”
Her face turns hard. “And put that together with Knight marking you…” She blows out a breath. “I’m sick of this so-called law-abiding society who allow people to order others around due to what they are when they’re born. Do you want a life of being a homemaker and baby factory?”
“No. ”
And I think I hate myself more because this man who was killed fades in my little blossoming moment. Darcy’s treating me almost like a friend, and I’m hanging on to it all, hugging it close.
If I could choose a friend, I’d want someone like her. Maybe not quite so scary, but then again, I like that about her. She’s smart and fierce, things I want to be, too, and she loves Julien, who’s even scarier in size. But he’s always been nice to me.
“My dad didn’t want that, either. He kept us away from the Council’s reach, homeschooled me. I wish you could have met him.” I stop. That sounds weird. “I mean, all of you. He was good and respected in the Hollows.”
Darcy looks at me and starts laughing. She refills our glasses. “Oh, man, kid. I think I would have. And, I think I like you, too. Anyone who speaks about someone being respected by the Hollows and says it with absolute pride, is a fucking badass in my eyes.”
“Dad said the people there were realer than the ones in rich packs and high rises. The working class, the undocumented who keep the city going, the rejected, the shunned, and those who get creative to make ends meet are the real people. Not the council with their stupid rules. And…” I smile. It’s shaky, but it’s there. “I agree.”
“Creative, like criminal activities?”
I nod.
“Well, kid, he sounds like a smart man. And he’s right. In the Council’s eyes, Julien and I are forbidden. We can never have kids, but do we look like the picket fence type?”
“I think you are if this is your happy pack.”
“Lizette…Christ. These guys are going to eat you alive.”
I frown. “I’ll be okay.”
I want to say I’m learning my place in this pack. I want to say it isn’t true. But I don’t know. Just like I don’t know how I can want three different men so much .
And I do want Dante. It doesn’t matter how I feel about him, my body wants him. It wants them all.
“Learn your place.” She puts her glass down as her phone buzzes. “It’ll make life easier.” She reads the message on her phone and looks at me. “But a word of advice? They’re all dangerous men. Knight’s wild and ruthless when he feels like it. Reaper… He doesn’t randomly kill. I don’t think he commits crimes of passion. Except, perhaps the fucker who cut him up. And if I’d been around? I’d have helped.” She shrugs. “But if he has to, he’ll kill you. That’s it. Friend or foe. He’s cold blooded, deadly, what some might call a psychopath.”
“I call it surviving.”
Darcy doesn’t speak for a long time. “So would I. Outside of Julien, Dante, and maybe Knight, I’ve never heard anyone else put it that way, or get him.”
“There’s more to him.”
“A lot more that should be left alone.”
I don’t miss the warning in her voice.
My heart starts to beat faster.
“Dante?” I ask.
“Don’t fall in love.”
“With him?” I push out a laugh, even though I know the weird emotional and physiological dynamic with him and me, with all of them, and me, well…I don’t think it’s in my hands. Not unless I disappear for good.
And I don’t know what to do.
I’m scared, curious, turned on, wrapped tight.
“With him. He’s handsome, always gorgeously dressed. He can move in all parts of society and look at home. From the deepest parts of the underworld to the highest levels of the privileged and connected.” She looks me in the eye. “But he’s a volatile bastard. Red hot in his violence and need for revenge. And he’s calculated and controlled. When that goes? He’s the most dangerous of them all. ”
I flicker a glance at her. “I’ll be alright.” How many times do I need to say it before I believe it?
“Just…don’t be so vulnerable. Shit. You need to go. And I need to take care of Dante’s mess.”
Terror rides waves of thrills through me and I don’t know which way’s up.
“You should go to bed.”
“Darcy, I have to meet him,” I reply.
“What the fuck are you doing here? Go.”
She leaves, and I sit. Not moving. I’m not sure I can.
My heart and brain whisper to run.
My blood and hormones scream to run to him.
It’s that bit tacked on the end that’s a killer.
I can’t face him. He wants to punish.
He killed a man.
Because of me.
With shaking fingers, I top my glass to the brim and take a deep swallow. I cough, sending the burning whiskey up my nose.
For a brief, sweet moment, all I can smell is the booze.
Shit.
I take another swallow.
Then I set the glass down and head out of the room, down the stairs to what feels like my doom.