Chapter six
Josephine
When we leave the recesses of the club the air is pungent, but it tastes like freedom. Vivian and her friends may have left me in this guy’s hands, but I don’t mind. He’s charming in a dark way. For now, I’m a little drunk and I can forget about my problems. Tonight hasn’t sucked like I thought it would.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “It amazes me how it always manages to smell like piss and sweat in Asphodel.”
Aedon laughs unexpectedly. It’s deep and genuine accompanied by a mesmerizing boyish grin, even though he tries to hide it. Tall, dark, and handsome. The suit is clinging to his body, and his lean muscles move underneath the fabric. Usually, men who opt to go out sans shirt would make me roll my eyes into my brain, but the sight of him makes me beg the Universe to keep him shirtless forever.
Dark blue eyes, olive skin, and short, tousled dark brown hair draws me in. He has a defined jaw line with a perfect nose. His tattooed torso is covered with colorful intricate designs that I haven’t had time to examine. The man screams toxicity, and I love damage. My infatuation from the first night we met rushes through me like a hurling wind.
My lips are still tingling from the kiss we shared. He glances back at me with a mischievous glint in his eye, and electricity flows through where our hands touch. I’ve never felt anything close to this, not even with Killian. I’m recklessly excited and impossibly anxious.
By Stafford’s account, I’m the most wanted person in the Underworld. I should be more careful, but here I am without a care in the world. He was right about one thing; I needed a fucking vacation. A time where I’m not surrounded by death and blood. I’ve grown too comfortable in it. It’s exhilarating being in the presence of the stranger, Aedonaeus. The sexiest name ever. I forgot how devastatingly dangerous he seems. The way he watched me from the VIP area made me feel wanted just like the way he looked at me the first night we met. His presence is dominating. Even though I want to hate him, I don’t.
Vivian is going to have an aneurysm at brunch tomorrow. There is no doubt she will corner me to pepper me with questions about Aedon, whom I am now mindlessly following as he leads me through crowds of people. They squeal and shout, laughter ringing out above us all.
There is an intrigue deep in the abyss of who I am. Aedon is clearly demented since he watched me bash Ashtray’s face in. Still, there is a strange sense of determined curiosity when he looks at me. My body tingles, drawn to him while he leads me away from the club.
We round a corner into a dirtier part of town. There’s a dingy bar ahead that definitely participates in criminal activity. Right up my alley. The sign over the door is tilted, falling off of the building, and a few of the lights are out, but I can still read ‘The Alibi’. I’ve heard of this place, but I’ve never had business here.
He opens a dark cracked wooden door, and it squeaks, announcing us. The place only has a handful of people, and they hardly register our entrance. It’s a dimly lit hole in the wall. Aedon leads me to a booth in the back, gesturing for me to sit.
I slide across the worn burgundy leather and lean onto the dirty wall, spreading my feet across the booth and stretching my legs out. “Interesting place to bring me to. Are you planning to kill me?”
“Something tells me that you’re more likely to be the murderer out of the two of us.” He signals someone over. I flash him a sly smile in response which seems to spark that boyish grin again, melting my insides.
An elderly woman with gray hair knotted into a bun at the back of her head and thin lips set in a straight line, makes her way to us. She wears a red gingham apron stained with grease and tied in the back, covering a long flowing skirt with a white blouse. She looks at me with morbid interest. The woman clears her throat, and she whips her head toward him.
“What do you like to eat?” he asks me.
“You don’t seem like the type to ask.” He doesn’t open the menu and tells the woman ‘The usual’. She nods, chancing another look at me before disappearing through two swinging doors.
“So, you know David?” he asks nonchalantly.
“My sister knows David from work.” I look around the place trying to take it in. Unlike Stafford’s pub, there is nothing on the walls in an unnerving way. I never thought I could ever miss knick-knacks, but here I am wishing for them.
“Your sister’s fiancé is an interesting character.” His smirk makes me delirious. It’s sexy and my pulse quickens, but I keep my cool.
“Bella,” I remind him. This mental chess match is exhilarating and fucking refreshing.
“David says you're an escort.”
An escort to death. “Really? What an honor.”
“You’re not?”
“Depends on who you ask,” I answer ominously.
“So, you don’t go out much?” He tries again.
“Are you going to keep repeating things people have said to you, or ask me a direct question?”
“My apologies. I usually don’t have to carry the conversation.” He leans back in the booth, spreading his fingers out on the table.
“It’s hard to talk with your tongue in someone’s mouth,” I retort.
He leans forward on his elbows. “You didn’t complain.”
My cheeks flush. “That was charity.”
Instead of being discouraged, his eyes ignite like he just won an argument. They drop to my mouth, and a tingle erupts between my thighs. “Consider me poor then.”
The old woman returns, setting a plate of fries in front of each of us. They’re golden and crispy with little cups of ketchup in the middle. The smell of salt and oil is orgasmic. I didn’t realize how hungry I actually am. I don’t know when the last time I remembered to eat was. She sets a bottle of something brown and unlabeled in front of us with two chipped crystal glasses, and hurries away.
“Fries?” I raise an eyebrow. “Is this your way to the bimbo’s hearts?”
“Is everything out of your mouth a fucking defense mechanism or are you going to eat?” The corner of his mouth tilts back up into that sexy smirk because the fucker knows he stunned me. I don’t respond, instead choosing to dip some fries in the ketchup and shove them in my mouth.
“If you must know, I usually don’t have to work this hard. I never have to feed them,” he continues.
“Sounds like you aren’t doing it right,” I say dryly. He chuckles.
The fries are fucking divine, like they’re imported straight from Elysium. He reaches over and fills my glass to the brim with the brown liquid. I shovel fries into my mouth like it’s my last meal.
“The expectations are certainly lower,” he admits.
I choke on my mouthful of crisp potatoes, holding the back of my hand to my lips while I swallow. I reach for the drink, then eye it warily. I am the most sought-after criminal in the Underworld, after all. My throat begs for liquid mercy, so I give in anyways.
I take a sip. “Is it poison?”
The drink is flavorful with hints of corn and malted barley. It’s the best bourbon I’ve ever had. I must be on drugs because everything tastes out of this world. In response, he grabs the bottle and takes a swig straight from the mouth. “I guess we’ll die together.”
I finish the last fry on my plate. “Quite a commitment for someone you’ve met twice.”
“You don’t find the notion of spending eternity with a stranger intriguing?”
I take another sip, and it sears down my throat. “Sounds bothersome.”
“I quite like bothering you.” His words are as smooth as this bourbon. I search for some sort of witty demeaning response, but I can’t find one with him staring at me. “Tell me something. Do you normally inhale your food in a disturbing manner?” He pops a few fries in his mouth. His plate is only half empty, while mine is all but licked clean.
“You’re certainly fascinated by your own wit. Does this usually work on women?”
“Is it working on you?”
Yes. Yes, it is. I’ve got to get out of here.
“I gave you my name. Deal is done. It was great catching up.” I start to scoot across the booth.
“Where are you going?” The look on his face is full of alarm, dismantling his charming charade.
“Home. Isn’t that what people do when they finish eating?”
“It is,” he draws out the words. “Are you not having a good time?”
I consider what he says. Admittedly, I am. I can hear Clo in the back of my mind telling me to stop letting people hold me back. Somehow, Kate’s fear still has some sort of grip on me. I need to stop letting dead people tell me what to do.
I’m comfortable with him in this booth in this low-lit shit hole. My mind hasn’t once thought of the impending doom that could come for me, or what happened that night after we first met. The only thing that waits for me at home is hours of rehashing Stafford’s question. Is there anything you aren’t telling me? This is significantly better.
“I guess it couldn’t hurt to stay and bruise your ego a little more.” I settle back into the booth.
“Since we’re both clearly out of the practice of conversing, let’s play a drinking game,” he suggests. He puts a splash of bourbon in each glass.
I lean forward. “What kind?”
His eyes dart down to my cleavage, and I realize the way I’m sitting squeezes my breasts together, and they’re struggling against the mesh.
“I would choose twenty questions, but you’ll just drink for every single one of them. What about Truth or Drink?”
“What are the rules?”
“Simple. I’ll make a statement about you. If it’s true, you drink. If it’s not, I drink. Then you do the same for me,” he explains.
“Alright. You first.” I wrap my fingers around the bottom of the glass, waiting patiently for his first question. He takes a minute to think it through.
“You’re from the capital.”
I shake my head no, and he drinks.
“You like blondes.”
He takes a long swig with an eye roll. “Try to be a little more ingenious.”
“Oh, like ‘You’re from the capital’?”
He chuckles and pours himself another. “Fine. You come from money.” My glass stays on the table, and he has to drink again.
“You’re an asshole,” I counter. Dark amusement flashes in his eyes. He drinks again, leaving my blatant disregard for his rules uncontested.
“You’re adopted.” There’s a bite to his statement.
“Wrong again. Looks like you’ll be sleeping here tonight.”
“As opposed to what? Going home with you?” he chuckles.
“Not a chance.”
“Figures. If you’re not adopted, then what is the deal with you and your sister anyways? You don’t look anything alike.”
People usually aren’t bold enough to ask. I think about the kind of answer I want to give.
“You don’t go through the things we have and not become family. You use women as a bandage for your loneliness.” My statement is unnecessary, but it isn’t wrong.
“I deserve that,” he drinks again. “You learned at a young age to use violence instead of words. It’s easier to keep your distance from people if you intimidate them.”
I take a sip, drinking half of the glass.
He furrows his brows. “The whole thing.”
“You’re only half right.” I shrug.
His muscles tense in frustration. “Which half?”
“That’s not the game,” I remind him. “You enjoyed the kiss as much as I did, if not more.”
He finishes his drink, pours another, drinks that, and then drinks a third. Wetness creeps from between my legs, soaking my shorts. I want him to kiss me again. It’s a reckless impulse. I’m starting to like Aedon, and I don’t even know him.
“So, you enjoyed it?” He graces me with another grin. “You want to dislike me, but don’t. In fact, I think you want to fuck me.”
I finish my drink and use all of my will power to yank myself out of the booth.
His grin falters. “This again?”
“It was nice to officially meet you, Aedonaeus.”
“Aedon,” he corrects me.
“Aedon.” His eyes darken with a different sort of hunger that craves more than witty banter, fries, and a drink. “I’ve more than fulfilled my bargain. It’ll give you something to think about in the years to come.” I enunciate the last word, watching him clench his jaw.
I pull out a wad of money from my pocket to pay for my meal. It probably doesn’t do me any favors when it comes to David’s claim that I’m an escort. Let him think that. Money tends to draw attention. He stands and shoves my hands full of cash back at me with an admonishing look. He pulls out his wallet and slams a massive bill down on the table. So, he has his own secrets. He follows me out of the door, and we pause on the stoop of The Alibi.
“Can I walk you home?” I can’t tell if his question is hopeful, but it doesn’t seem like it.
“I can take care of myself.”
“I don’t deny that, but I’m a gentleman.” He’s hesitant, wanting to say something.
“This was…a thing.” It’s all I can say without making the outing seem significant.
That boyish smile blossoms, but he looks up at the cloudy sky instead of tucking it away. “Right. A thing.”
He presses his lips against mine before I can duck away, enveloping me in that sweet honey and bourbon taste. I’m consumed in the kiss. The first one is a question, the second one is ravenous, and the third almost makes me fold. He pulls away, both of our chests heaving with ragged breaths.
His fingers hold my chin, making me look up at him. “How do I see you again?”
“I’ll make a deal with you?”
“Another?” His words are soft and full of lust.
“If we run into each other again, I’ll go on a date with you.”
His eyes turn to slits. “I look forward to it.”
With those final words he pulls away, and strides back into The Alibi. It takes me a few moments to gather myself. There was an animalistic hunger in the way he kissed me. His absence is weirdly destabilizing. I chalk it up to the lack of human contact I’ve had recently, and storm down the street in the direction of my apartment.
The more I try to forget him, the more our kiss infects my mind. By the time I make it home, he’s spread through me like a disease. I feel myself sobering up as I climb the stairs. The shower is my savior. This night feels like a strange dream that I’m washing away. When I settle in my bed, I can only think about the way everything inside of me quieted when we connected. I drift off into sleep, and for the first time in years I’m thrusted into the nightmare that used to plague me.