Chapter 4 Aniyah #2
But I smiled. The urge to mark up that arrogant, pretty face curled through me like smoke.
The Syndicate boss version of myself envisioned my diamond rings breaking that perfect face, leaving not just cuts and bruises but a memory of who not to fuck with.
Glittering, intimate, and impossible to forget.
A kiss in reverse, sharp and shining and so like me.
Randy shot out of his seat, his head bouncing between the two of us, before he finally took some steps around his desk, getting ready to remove the guy. Cute… and exactly the reaction I needed to stay cool.
Thinking back to my early training days with Vesta, I could hear her voice echoing in my head, telling me to see this as an opportunity. One of the ones where she taught me how to turn a snarling dog into a docile pet. There was always value in breaking down a cocky bastard—properly.
First, he needed to be put in his place.
Keeping my gaze soft, frowning just slightly, I made my first move with a steady, courteous tone.
“I assure you, we keep diligent records. I saw no appointments for today… but I did see two scheduled for tomorrow: a Mr. Ryan and a Miss Camden. And a missed appointment yesterday for a Mr. Kingsley.”
His expression shifted, eyes going wide while his mind worked to figure out whether the fault laid with us or him. Shifting to the side and away from me, he furiously tapped at his phone, and I took that moment to really look at him.
Smooth, pale skin unmarred by time or scars, which gave him a deceptively youthful look.
Long golden locks that looked like woven sunlight shimmered against his chiseled jaw.
His designer clothes hugged a lean, toned frame with precision, the kind only a master tailor could manage.
My gaze flicked lower. Oh yes, definitely tailor-made to accentuate his assets.
His phone buzzed, his eyes scanning the screen before his lips thinned. Glancing at his watch, then back at the screen, his tongue flicked against one of his fangs before he faced me.
His voice was smooth, almost casual, but tension coiled beneath the surface, betraying the effort behind the calm. “I just flew in from French Polynesia. Looks like my… planning app didn’t register the appointment properly while it was going through an update.”
Planning app. Right. I’d bet a hundred grand his assistant had forgotten to shift the calendar date. His pause said everything, yet oddly enough, I respected him for not throwing them under the bus.
“No worries,” I said with a dismissive wave. Looping my arm through his, I gave Randy a subtle nod to sit back down. It was time to change this situation around in my favor.
“Let’s chalk this up to good luck. If you’d shown up yesterday, you’d be dealing with Van, our concierge, instead of me.”
His steel eyes scanned me like he was just noticing who he was talking to. It was slow and intentional, his gaze sliding over me like a heatwave. It felt like he could see straight through my clothes, peeling back layers with nothing but a glance, and he liked what he saw.
When his eyes met mine again, there was no apology, no pretense. Just that raw, quiet hunger and a flicker of something darker, possessive. Then he blinked, and it was all gone, replaced with a newfound curiosity as his arm tightened around mine
“Yes,” he murmured, “a much more preferable situation.”
Men like him—rich, aristocratic, and wrapped in polished arrogance—weren’t usually my type. Don’t get me wrong, I loved men. Or, to be more specific, I loved their cocks. But despite what people assumed when they looked at me, I was more selective than I let on.
Still, this man? He was pressing all the right buttons. Intriguing enough to entice me and put together enough to not bother me. Unfortunately, we had grown up in two completely different worlds. It would be hard to understand each other, and a mindblowing fuck came from understanding.
I mentally slapped myself. Focus. I was a professional, and I wanted his money more than his cock. Also, this was a hundred percent Alic’s fault. If he’d just given in to what we both clearly wanted, I wouldn’t be out here lust-drunk over every man with a pretty face and a decent bulge.
Swallowing those thoughts like a bitter pill, I motioned to the sleek black wall beside Randy.
“Let’s head over here to the locker room,” I said, guiding him toward the matte screen and placing my palm against it.
“Once you're approved, we’ll set you up for fingerprint and magical scanning. It’s just another layer of security to keep out those who aren't the right fit for this kind of establishment.”
The black double doors whooshed open, revealing a spacious locker room bathed in dim lighting. Rows of red lockers lined the walls, and a handful of members were already prepping inside.
“This is where our members get comfortable,” I said, gesturing toward some of the nude chaos.
His silver eyes flicked around the room, widening when they landed on a delicate fairy squeezing into a full wolf suit—fur, fangs, and all—before bouncing to a set of vampire twins.
One wore a virginal white dress; the other, a red leather bustier and a tiny matching skirt, complete with a fake tail pinned to her ass.
The Ramirez twins got off on the thrill of fucking the same person while acting the opposite of what they were dressed as.
I gave him a few seconds to mentally process the kink buffet before tugging him toward a small table stacked with white masks. Each had a bold black X slashed across the front.
Picking one up, I held it out. “Lean down,” I said, and he complied without a word, letting me secure the mask over his face. A shame, really. Covering a face like his should be a crime.
“And why do I need to wear this?” he asked, his voice teasing, then he paused. When he spoke next, he sounded annoyed. “Don’t tell me it’s just to keep everything a mystery.”
I laughed, open and unbothered, shaking my head. “Not quite. Some people do like the anonymity, sure, but that’s not the point. These masks let members communicate their boundaries without saying a single word.”
Tugging him toward the lift, he glanced around before asking, “And where’s your mask?”
I shot him a sly side-smile and winked. “I’m the madame of this establishment. Nothing happens inside these walls without my approval, and if someone tries, they’d end up wishing for death before I was done with them.”
As more bodies pressed into the lift, I noticed he wasn’t fazed by the nudity or the sensation of strangers’ bare skin bumping into him. Unbothered, composed. That was a check in the yes column for membership.
We stood in silence as the lift began to rise until movement to my right caught my eye. The fairy from earlier, now fully suited in that ridiculous wolf costume, had started grinding against a male werewolf. She was licking her lips, panting theatrically, and pawing at the waistband of his pants.
The male wore a white mask with a green leaf painted on it, meaning he was into fucking fairies.
I wondered if she was barking up the right tree until the air shimmered with that telltale tingle of illusion magic.
Her costume blurred, and suddenly she looked a lot more like a real wolf than the polyester fantasy she’d stepped into earlier.
Not full shifter magic, then. Probably weak illusions, enhancing what was already there rather than crafting anything substantial.
The shirtless werewolf shrugged and groaned, “What the hell,” then unbuttoned his pants.
The illusioned wolf-fairy dropped to her knees and started lapping at his cock like a dog at a water bowl. I’ll admit, a part of me was morbidly curious about how far this would go.
The lift dinged. The gate slid open.
Just as we stepped out, a breathy moan echoed behind us. “Oh fuck. Fuck, yeah. Fucking lick that cock, you dirty bitch. Slobber it up before I fuck your muzzle so hard you won’t be able to howl for a week.”
Does it really work like that? I wondered. How long would your dick need to be to throat-fuck a fully shifted werewolf? And how exactly does one fuck a howl out of someone?
So many questions. So little time. And knowing Nova, she’d laugh in my face before giving me a straight answer.
The man next to me purred in my ear, “Interesting.”
Oh yes, Mr. Kingsley, but it’s about to get even more interesting.
Tugging him forward, we stepped into a wide, shadow-drenched space.
The only illumination came from the vulgar, seductive neon signs on the walls, their crimson glow casting a sin-soaked haze over the space in front of them.
A few large lights hung from the ceiling, most aimed at the stage looming at the far end of the room.
*The air was thick with the sweet, tantalizing aroma of sex, laced with a spicy undertone that curled through my nostrils and lit a fire in my blood.
I glanced at him just in time to catch the way he inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering shut as he was savoring it.
Licking my lips, I wondered what smell had hit him so hard.
When I first envisioned this place, I borrowed from my casino upbringing. I wanted a space that thrilled you the second you stepped inside—not with flashing lights or ringing slot machines, but with something more primal: scent.
Luckily, I had a tech-genius brother with a knack for blending magic and machinery.
He designed a device that infused the room with personalized aromas, so each guest breathed in the one scent that excited them most. No two visitors smelled the same thing.
This room was the threshold, the break from reality, the beginning of indulgence.
Spreading my arms wide, I twirled and walked backward, watching his roaming eyes drink it all in.
“This is the first level of the Winged Palace,” I said, smiling. “We call it the Fountain of Desire.”