Chapter 20 Conrad
CONRAD
I’d been losing my damn mind these past few days.
Work was supposed to drown out the noise, keeping my head clear, but every time I paused, she was there.
The phantom heat of her pressed against me.
The rasp of her breath when it caught. The memory of her claws tightening around my throat, making me feel more alive than I ever had.
All it took was a moment of pause, then a memory would invade my senses, and, suddenly, it was all I could think of.
Her in my secret room, on my desk. Between her thighs in the woods.
Without fail, my pants would tighten uncomfortably.
It was getting to be tiresome to handle.
Always having to relieve myself just to focus again.
It was so mechanical, pathetic, yet still never enough.
Afterwards, when I’d taken the edge off, I’d catch myself staring at my phone. Should I text her? Call her? Ask her to come over just so I could see her… hear her… taste her again?
It was hard not to relive the moment my fangs sank into her skin, the immediate jolt of ecstasy when her full, rich blood hit my tongue. Right then, I’d known I was done for.
One sip, and I was lost. She tasted exactly like she smelled, honey-soaked wildflowers and summer heat. Sweet and floral with a sharp undertone that hit the back of my throat and went down smoothly. It wasn’t just the blood that distracted me; it was the unshakeable high of just being around her.
More than once, my thumb hovered over the call button, but every damn time, I stopped myself.
What if she didn’t feel the same pull? What if I was just another name she forgot once the thrill was gone?
A woman like her didn’t waste time on men who couldn’t keep their composure or were unable to separate business from pleasure, and I truly thought I was one of those men.
But, for some reason, this woman had me all tied up in knots, and I couldn't figure out the right move, the closing deal, so I put away my phone, counting down the hours until the fight event where we’d agreed to meet.
In the meantime, I’d been busy digging through reports, listening to back-alley gossip from the turned supes I knew.
While I didn't get a lead on a mysterious substance, I did find out a few turned supes had gone missing.
There was no connection between the missing supes other than being the kind no one paid much attention to.
They had nothing to lose, and that meant they were easy prey.
It stank of intention, like someone was cherry-picking them for something they didn't want anyone to know about. Partner that with the vial we’d found at Donnie’s place? It stank of nefarious deeds.
To prep for the meet-up, I reached out to Frank, the connection I had who might know a thing or two.
He was a middle-tier turned fighter who’d grown up in the slums and knew nothing else.
He did a few things under the table that could get him in trouble with the Syndicate, but he was the only one who might have an ear in the same groups.
When I finally got a hold of him, he dodged my questions, rushing me off the phone as he said he’d talk after the fight at the after-party. I pressed for more, but he hung up. After the fight, he’d repeated, and I’d gotten the message.
If Frank didn’t want to talk over the phone, then whatever he stumbled into was serious and dangerous enough to make even him extra cautious.
That meant I needed to be smarter than usual, not that I ever listened to my better judgment.
I wasn’t built for rules or restraint. If I’d followed them, I’d still be another blood-starved drifter scraping through the dregs.
Suiting up for the event, I chose a steel-grey color, tailored to me within an inch of perfection.
Hair slicked back, smile sharp enough to cut, the mirror said I looked ready.
Since most of the attendees would be in black suits, the thought was that I would stand out, making sure she could see me from across the room.
I was wrong.
*The moment I stepped into the venue, my eyes found her at the top of the stairs. That dress… bright, silky, dripping over her body like sin incarnate. She didn’t just walk; she commanded attention. This was her in full bloom, every curve a declaration that power and strength could be seductive.
My mouth went dry as my chest tightened. I wanted to burn the image into my mind, to devour it completely, then two shadows stepped into view.
Zeth. Standing beside her like a loyal hound ready to tear out throats the second she breathed. And another—a wolf shifter with the restless look of a man trapped between staying and bolting. She was the sun, and they were locked in her orbit.
My body moved before my brain caught up. I crossed the distance between us in a flash, took her hand from her side, and brought it to my lips, hoping the two shadows burned red.
“You’re breathtaking,” I murmured. My voice was steady, but my pulse beat like a war drum.
Their glares burned into me, and I couldn't help the smirk that fell across my face. Let them look. Let them know. I wasn’t losing to them.
Her cheeks flushed, lips tipping into a smile that hit me square in the chest. For a heartbeat, everything inside me quieted, then I caught her scent again. That mouthwatering perfume of metallic heat made my fangs ache to sink in, to make her mine all over again.
Then her smile changed. The air shifted, cooling. In an instant, she wasn’t my dangerous temptation anymore; she was the Syndicate’s leader. Untouchable. Commanding. Deadly.
Her voice sliced through the haze. “We have things to discuss. Let’s head inside.”
I swallowed the hunger clawing up my throat and nodded, offering my arm. Even like this, she was stunning.
Now businesslike, she slid her hand into my elbow, and we moved toward the doors. My pulse screamed at me to focus, to remember why I was here.
Still, disappointment sat heavy in my gut. She could switch it off, all emotion, all heat, just like that? I admired that control almost as much as I hated it.
Zeth’s glare burned into my peripheral vision. His eyes kept flicking to where her hand rested on my arm, his nostrils flaring. Not a clueless guard anymore, are you? Now he looked like a possessive beast ready to tear me apart for daring to touch what he wanted.
Something had happened between them. I could feel it in the way her energy pulsed, becoming colder, sharper. Her eyes shifted to him every once in a while when he wasn’t looking, then they’d go back to that carefully crafted Rossey boss mask I was learning more about.
Hearing the turned wolf's huff behind me, his steps clipped and close, I knew I wasn't the only one on edge. A smirk tugged at my lips despite myself.
Welcome to the club, you jealous bastard.
Leading us into the house, there was a massive foyer of silver-accented white marble.
Following the path into the house, we went down a long, wide corridor with a red carpet.
The lights were dimmed so that it looked like the only thing you could see was the light at the end of the tunnel.
As we neared the edge, where the space around us became more and more visible, my eyes flew open.
Staring around, you realized that you were in a concrete dome.
Magic shimmered against the curved walls, and about ten rows of seats circled the center where a state-of-the-art ring was right in the middle.
The entrance looked like a millionaire’s mansion, but the real purpose was this hidden arena in the middle of a mountain.
She tugged my arm to the VIP section, the security guards immediately moving out of our way when they saw her coming up.
A few rows from the front, she said in a hushed tone, “Have you confirmed your contact will be here?”
I nodded, leaning close enough for only her to hear. “Yeah. He’s the first fighter in the prelims. Frank Vivio.”
Before I could say more, a well-dressed stranger swooped in, congratulating her on the venue.
Soon, the vultures flocked, and the rhythm became predictable.
Praise her, handshake, ask to talk to her later, then another one would show up.
She moved through them like a queen holding court, introducing Zeth, the fighters Nick and Benson, and then me.
The closer we got to our seats, the more the air turned into a cloying cloud of expensive perfume and ambition. I usually loved the smell, knowing it meant money, but, for some reason, with her next to me, it set me on edge.
When we finally sat, I could see the strain hiding behind her practiced smile. The tight pull at the corner of her lips, the faint roll of her shoulders as she exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for hours.
Putting his hand on her shoulder, Zeth threw me a look that could’ve curdled blood before he excused himself to check on security and stalked off.
That was when a redheaded fairy appeared, wrapped in a golden miniskirt and clear wings. She gave me a set of come-fuck-me eyes as she bent over, pulling her hair away from her neck as she asked me if I wanted something to drink.
I glanced at her neck, the vein pumping right beneath her skin, and normally, I would’ve, appreciated a taste, a distraction, but tonight, the idea soured my stomach. It felt empty. Wrong.
Just as I was opening my mouth to tell her no, Nova slowly leaned over my lap. Her voice was smooth and controlled when she said, “You’re switching sections with James, Lisa. Go. Now.”
The vibrations of her authority made the fairy woman freeze, eyes wide with dread, before she scurried off as she professed her apologies.
I almost laughed as a sense of giddiness took me over for a second. Possessive, territorial… Gods, it looked good on her. I turned to tease her for it, excited that she was jealous, and then I saw it.
A mark.