Chapter 8 Conrad #2
Leaning back, letting my leg brush against the chair, I nodded. “I’m a man of my word. Tell me what you came here for.”
She folded her hands together and leaned back, cool as a glacier. “Do you know Jeremy Delton? He was last seen on his way to one of your fights. Do you know why he was here?”
Jeremy? What the hell does she want with him?
My fingers curled against the desk, my face schooled into indifference even though something tugged in my chest. Jeremy wasn’t a friend, not really, but I’d listened to his story and recognized too much of my own reflection in it—a turned supe with a broken past and no family to turn to.
His desperation had cut too close to mine.
“I’ll take your silence as a yes,” she said, her sharp tone slicing deeper than I expected. For a second, I almost lost my cool and rubbed at my chest. “I need to know where he is.”
Her voice left no room for negotiation. The words bit at me with an authority that should’ve rattled me. Instead, I found myself fighting the urge to grin. God, she was magnificent when she was demanding.
Memories of the night before, of Jeremy’s face etched in desperation when I couldn't help, came to my mind. After that, a frantic need had taken over, and I told him he was making a bad decision.
“He came by a few nights ago,” I admitted, my fist clenched uncontrollably. “Wanted to find an acquaintance we shared before I severed ties with them long ago.”
Feeling restless, I pushed up from the desk and crossed the room to the decanter set. He’s a big boy. He made his bed, and now he has to lay in it. At least that was what I told myself.
Pouring two glasses, I forced my mind off Jeremy and back onto the goddess sitting behind me.
“Who’s the acquaintance, and what did Jeremy want with him?” Her voice sharpened, but I caught the faintest thread of curiosity winding through it. Carrying the glasses back, I set one in front of her before taking a sip of mine.
“Donnie Leman. A turned werewolf.” Rolling my eyes, I chastised myself for ever getting involved with him.
“For years, Donnie’s been desperate to claw his way into the supe league fighting ring.
Willing to take any job, any fight, always looking for a quick buck and an award-winning fight.
” I shook my head, knowing his impulsivity and lack of foresight would be his undoing.
“Always playing with risk for a big payout.”
I threw my chin at the untouched drink in front of her, my meaning clear. If you want more from me, you’ll have to drink with me.
She let out a husky little chuckle, like she found me ridiculous but maybe amusing enough to play along, and lifted the glass.
The moment the liquor touched her lips, her eyes flared bright with demon magic. Watching the shimmer of it light up her gaze, a ripple of heat swept through me.
Before she could tear into me about how I’d gotten my hands on Syndicate-exclusive stock, I leaned closer and let my mouth curve. “I cashed in a favor with one of your lieutenants.” I winked.
Her body went taut, eyes blazing with the kind of fiery rage that demanded blood the second it was roused. Nowadays, we just called it the Desmond rage, something that only those white-haired, pink-eyed beings were capable of.
I cut in quickly, my voice coaxing. “Relax. I saved his mate from an unfortunate situation, and he simply repaid me with the bottle you gifted them for Christmas.”
The flicker of fury on her face warred with intrigue, and all I could think was how badly I wanted to taste that fire on my tongue.
Her lips pursed like she was dragging a memory out of the dark, and when she glanced down, her hand had already transformed into a vicious claw, the equivalent of a loaded gun aimed squarely at me.
My blood thundered, eyes locked on the lethal length and shine of those claws, wondering, against every survival instinct, what they would feel like pressed against my throat or dragged down my chest. Intrusive thoughts whispered that maybe I was into being dominated, but survival beat that craving back. .. barely.
“They’d have to be idiots to steal from you or your family,” I muttered, tossing back another swallow of liquor. Her claws retracted, smooth skin reforming like nothing had happened.
Her shoulders loosened. She took another drink, slower this time, savoring it, and exhaled. “You’d be surprised.”
Something about the way she said it had layers. Power, bitterness… exhaustion. I’d be damned if that didn’t intrigue me more. The small possibility of cracks in her armor, even small ones, made me want to press closer.
“Look, Conrad—” The way my name rolled off her tongue set my soul ablaze, her voice cutting right through me like she owned it, like she owned me. “I don’t know if this is some kind of ‘turned alliance’ or loyalty stunt you’re running, but I need to find Jeremy.”
She dragged her fingers through her hair, frustration breaking her cool exterior before she admitted, almost begrudgingly, “Actually, I’m after Reece Walton.
He came here to see Jeremy. Reece is the target, but since Jeremy has a human kid with him now, I need to find him, too. Make sure the kid doesn’t end up dead.”
Trouncing around with a human kid? What the hell was Jeremy thinking?
Her lips tilted, sharp and dangerous, more kingpin than queen, though she probably hadn’t meant it that way. “We can’t have humans getting hurt around supes. But you already know that, don’t you?”
I dragged in a heavy breath, forcing my gaze away from her before my hunger betrayed me. “He came by yesterday looking for fast cash.”
Her brow arched, and I knew I had to spill before she carved the truth out of me. “Sometimes…” I hesitated, praying she wouldn’t sprout claws again. “Let’s say I sometimes pay turned supes to take the fall against human fighters.”
Her eyes widened. I downed the rest of my glass.
“I make sure it’s safe,” I said defensively, even though the argument sounded weak. I didn't want her to think I was putting the Syndicate in hot water with the humans.
“Humans get off on the fantasy that maybe they can take down a supe. I give them that glimmer of hope now and then. One night like that pulls in around three hundred to five hundred thousand without breaking a sweat.”
She tilted her head, appreciation flashing on her face until she snapped, “That still doesn’t explain where Jeremy is.”
Damn. I’d expected her to demand a cut or shut me down. Instead, she was relentless. She knew my throat was already caught between her teeth, and she wasn’t letting me go anytime soon.
“When he came in and I told him I had nothing, he mumbled that he would just go see Donnie instead.” My jaw ticked at the memory of Jeremy’s twitchy nerves, the desperation rolling off him. “I told him Donnie would only drag him into shit deeper than quicksand, but he didn’t care.”
“Fuck.” She slammed her palm into my leather chair, and I could hear it crack. Well, that was ten grand down the drain, but I wasn’t about to say that.
“So, you don’t know where to find him either.” She downed her glass and folded forward, elbows on her knees, hands clasped, staring into nothing. For a second, that damn ache to take care of her clawed up my chest, and I blurted out the last thing I wanted to do.
“I could take you to Donnie's place.”
Her head lifted, white hair slipping back like a curtain. The beginning of a smile tugged at her lips, only to vanish behind a scowl when suspicion snapped back into place.
“Why? What’s in it for you?”
I wanted to say ‘time with you.’ I wanted to tell her I craved every second of her voice, her scent, her fire, but that would send her bolting. No, I had to be useful. Indispensable.
In a flash of vampire speed, I brushed her hair back behind her ear before she could react, letting my fingers graze that warm skin that burned like wildfire against my cool fingertips.
“Because I’d rather not end up with my chest split open, my heart ripped out, and my blood burned in a ritual for the Syndicate gods. ”
Her eyes cut to the side where I’d tucked her hair, then slowly came back to me. The screeching sound of the chair dragging along the hardwood echoed in the room as she stood up.
Every nerve in me lit up when her hands slammed down on either side of me, boxing me against my own desk, her breath sharp and hot against my lips. “If you try anything—anything—I don’t like,” she whispered, each word laced with venom and promise, “you won’t have to worry about gods or death.”
Her lips parted in a wicked smile, teeth flashing.
“I’ll chain you upside down over my tub.
Your new job will be to fill it with your blood.
Every. Damn. Day.” Her finger traced my throat in a mocking caress.
“I’ll slit you open again and again until my whole body is covered in crimson stains, then leave you there until the next day and the next, until you're used up, old husk of a body has nothing left to spare.”
I should have flinched, should have felt fear, but something dark and primal inside me broke loose, and I wasn’t in control anymore.
A growl ripped out of me as I snapped, arms locking around her waist to yank her flush against me.
My cool collided with her heat, my lips barely an inch from hers.
“If that’s your idea of an invitation,” I rasped, “you could’ve just asked.
I’d love to get you naked and paint your skin with my blood. ”
Her breath hitched, her jewel-pink eyes dropping to my mouth for one heavy heartbeat, then her fist cracked across my face. Pain exploded, and I doubled over.
She stalked back to the door, boots thudding her victory as her satisfied huff echoed in the air.
Fuck. No, no, no. I blew it. She’d never speak to me again if I left it like that.
Unexpectedly, her steps stopped. “You may heal slower because you’re a turned, but I didn’t touch your legs. Let’s go.”
At the sound of her steady, commanding voice, I glanced up. Arms crossed, hip cocked, but her lips… there was the faintest traitorous curve. Maybe I imagined it, but… maybe not.
Either way, I wasn’t about to waste this chance. I hauled myself up off the floor.
* Weak by AJR