Nathaniel
I’VE BEEN WATCHING HIM for two days now.
Landon frequents a popular gym near his actual house, an organic grocery store, and, believe it or not, a Dutch Bros.
Calum clearly didn’t have all the information on Landon Presley because he does not stay at the ridiculous glass mansion his parents own.
And sure, criticizing their materialistic ways is probably hypocritical since I adore the Chastains, and they’re right up that alley, but at least the Chastains are kind.
They’re not abusing the power they have or calling their employees servants.
When I told Master Abraham that I needed to take a few days to visit family, he didn’t even bat an eye. Instead, he hired a cook who lives in town to fill in until I return, and told me to have a great vacation.
That is the kind of man who deserves power and money. Not Landon, the pretentious, self-centered nepo baby who walks around with his dick in his hand, forcing others to cater to him.
I’m going to destroy him. Sure, the organization doesn’t kill people, but we are charged with eradicating potential threats to society.
I.e., people who manipulate and brainwash others. And, unfortunately for Landon, I brought all the equipment needed to stop him from doing it ever again.
The number of people who fall all over themselves to please him is disgusting. In the past two days, I’ve seen him be hit on by men and women alike, all willing to do his bidding.
And truthfully, I haven’t gotten close enough to tell if he’s using that power of his to make them do this. They could very well just be naturally charmed by him. But I highly doubt it; he’s far too comfortable releasing that addictive simmer and forcing it down someone’s throat.
So, I have every intention of preventing the possibility of that ever happening again.
I just need to find a way to truly assess him.
To sort through his confident exterior and find a way to slip the B109 into his system.
The light blue liquid is only the first step, sure, but the final step shouldn’t be hard.
I just have to knock him out or get close enough to surprise him before I plunge the needle into his skin.
Normally, I spend a decent amount of time observing someone before I take action and stifle their power. I have to make sure they are using their power for immoral reasons. But Landon? I’m confident. I’ve already been a victim of it.
I do want to see it again, though. His power, I mean. It’s a sticky-sweet feeling as it washes over you, and I’m interested to see how far he’s willing to take it.
That’s why I’m here, still watching. Not to see if he’s a bad person—I already know he is—but to catch one more glimpse of it, to understand it, before I rip it away.
I’m only here for two more days, so I have to act fast. And other than those previously mentioned places, Landon doesn’t really leave his condo.
But as I’m dwelling on this, debating breaking in, the front door opens.
I’m hidden across the street, my bike and I hidden behind a large Ford truck as Landon leaves the house with some girl. It takes me a moment to recognize her as Susie, the other friend Julian had brought to Chastain Castle not long ago.
She’s grinning, dressed in a little red dress and heels as they head toward Landon’s car.
And Landon… he looks edible. Nothing pisses me off more than someone so vile looking so fucking good. His brown hair is gelled back lightly, his jeans low and baggy, and his shirt tight and barely cropped enough to show his hipbones and the Adonis belt that is carved out between them.
I can’t see his expression from here, but I bet his eyes are shining. Fucking vibrant with the green so wide and glistening.
I have no doubt as to where they’re headed like this. A very popular club is only a few miles from here, and I’d put a ridiculous amount of money on the idea that they’re about to go party.
Isn’t he supposed to be sad and heartbroken? I’m pretty sure I got the vibe that he’s in love with Julian, and I watched their very public breakup in the foyer back home.
As Susie and Landon climb into his car, I resaddle the bike I’ve rented, waiting a few minutes after they’ve pulled away to start it up and follow.
By the time I reach City Central, the club nearby, they’ve already arrived and gone inside. I can see Landon’s car being valet-parked as I turn my bike off in a parking lot across the street.
I’m not interested in going into a fancy club. I’m in a pair of plain blue jeans, a t-shirt, and my old cowboy hat. I would definitely stand out. I could always take off my hat and put it in one of my saddlebags, exactly where I store it while I ride, but it makes me feel camouflaged.
Plus, I like it.
But after waiting a good fifteen minutes in the humid night air of California, I get antsy and find myself paying the ridiculous twenty-dollar fee to get inside.
It’s a big club, with two stories and far too much fog rolling over the smooth floor. I can spot a bar to my right and several booths lining the walls. But in the center of the room, in front of the DJ, is a big group of people dancing.
Now I have to search for him in this crowd. With his brown hair and tanned body, he mixes in well with the other Californians here. It’s going to take me forever just to find—
Oh, there he is.
On the edge of the crowd, grinding obscenely with a man who looks to be the same height and build as him but not nearly as attractive, I spot him.
I’m hot with rage. He’s here, basically dry-humping some stranger when he’s supposed to be heartbroken? What, is he searching for a rebound?
Something ugly curls around my heart, making my chest tight and stifled. He’s probably brainwashing that man right now. That is why I’m upset; there certainly can’t be another reason.
But as he moves, rolling his hips against that random guy, my blood boils hotter and hotter. Fuck him for being hotter than sin and yet so disgusting. My body burns to touch, to experience, to taste all that Landon Presley has to offer.
Not that I can; he’s clearly interested in other alleys of pleasure. Whatever. That’s all fine and well; I have a job to do anyway.
And that job? Ripping him apart. Just not, you know, sexually.
Even if the idea of hate sex riles me up beyond belief, I cannot fraternize. Never have, never will. I serve an organization bigger than myself; the work I do is far too important to risk on some little brat, even if he is a mouthwatering one.
And with that in mind, I head toward the bar and get a drink, something dark and heady in a plastic cup. After looking around to see that almost everyone is minding their own business, I pour the B109 into the drink and slosh it around gently.
There. Now I just need him to drink it.
As I approach where he’s standing, Landon stumbles, laughing as he says something into his dance partner’s ear as they move.
He’s drunk, it appears. That just makes my job easier.
Reaching out, I grip Landon’s hip and spin him to face me. His wide green eyes are heated and glazed, his body instinctively pressing into mine as if he’s always prepared for a new dance partner.
And for a long moment, we stand just like this. His skin is hot, my fingers resting firmly over the sliver of his back that is sweaty and exposed. Landon smells like liquor and temptation—a deadly cocktail to most of the human race as he bats his lashes.
In this moment, he looks so fucking sweet and dirty. But then, the moment passes, and he’s glaring up at me so beautifully I almost wish I could say damn it all and bend him over right here.
I’d love to fuck the bratty, disgusting impulses from his body until all that remains is a decent, law-abiding citizen. But I can’t. For one, I have standards for personality when it comes to hook-ups, but it would break so many organizational rules.
“Nathaniel,” Landon says, his voice dripping with resentment. “Tell me why it is that you’re always around me?”
His hand is pushing at my chest, but there’s no real force behind it. He stays locked in my arm with barely any effort.
“Uh, Lan? You okay?” the guy behind asks, his wide eyes staring at me with fear and anger.
I give him a pointed stare. “Lan is busy now. Find someone else to publicly rut against.”
The man makes a dignified huff and spins on his heel, leaving us surprisingly easily.
“Now you’re depriving me of a good fuck?” Landon asks, his words slurring slightly as he resorts to leaning into me rather than away.
“With your thick cock pressed to my thigh, I’d guess you’d enjoy fighting with me more than you’d enjoy fucking that guy,” I tease, but my tone is low, dangerous. “Or are you typically a bottom?”
Landon scoffs, turning his face from mine with an eye roll. “I do whatever feels good, asshole. And you’re wrong. I don’t hate being pressed against you.”
“Don’t hate?” I repeat, raising a brow.
“Huh? No!” Landon’s eyes widen, his head snapping back to look at me with a horrified expression. “I do hate. I’m drunk; leave me alone.”
He tries to shove away from me again, a futile attempt.
I wrap my arm firmly around his waist and pull him even tighter against me, and Landon lets out the most obscene groan I’ve ever heard, his glaring eyes never leaving mine.
No one has ever looked so good. No one has ever lit me up so fucking fast.
His hips roll instinctively, searching for that friction my body gives him without concern.
I need to give him the drink. I need him to drink the B109 so that I can drag him away and stifle his power. But it’s hard to do so when he’s so warm and firm against me.
I bet with everything in me that he’d fight. That if I held him down and swallowed him whole, he’d squirm and scream the whole time. Every word he would say would be of disapproval, but his body? His body would betray him, coming over and over again as I abuse it.
Fuck, maybe I need to fuck some random guy here.
My hand lifts from his waist, gripping the back of his hair and forcing him to look at me when he attempts to turn. The blissed-out, furious expression he’s wearing makes me feral.
The drink in my hand sloshes, reminding me of the work I need to do.
But Landon’s whining softly, tugging on the hold I have on his hair, and letting his eyes roll back.
Oh, fuck. Oh, shit.
“You’re a dirty little thing, aren’t you, little Lanny?” I purr, leaning in closer.
His eyes snap open, spiteful and rebellious. “Does it drive you crazy that you’ll never get to know? To truly find out?”
He’s still grinding into me softly, undoubtedly feeling how much this is riling me up.
Wait, what did he just say?
Landon leans in, pressing his lips to my ear as he says, “Do you know how many men in here I’ve had on their knees? How many have fucked me so hard I couldn’t breathe?”
A low growl escapes me, feral and resentful. “And how many of them did you force? How many did you command to do it?”
Landon pulls away abruptly, my hand finally leaving his soft hair. The look of shock, of disbelief, on his face is surprising. But I guess I’d be surprised too if someone randomly called out my deepest, dirtiest secret.
“Why would you…” But his words trail off as he sways on his feet, his eyes peering around us.
I bet he’s looking for his friend, but I haven’t seen her once since I walked in. No one will be saving Landon Presley from my wrath.
“Here. You look thirsty.” The thought of how many men he’s touched or been touched by—and by force—reminds me of what I’m here to do.
I’m not meant to be attracted to him, to want to dominate and break his spirit, all for the sexual thrill. He’s a repulsive man and a degenerate. And it’s time I fixed that.
Only as Landon reaches for the cup, he slaps it from my hand instead of taking it gratefully.
It splatters all over the floor, the plastic cup bouncing a few feet away. Some of the people around us look at the mess and shrug, continuing with their partying, but Landon is grinning.
His bratty, confident grin is aimed right at me as he sways slightly, giving me a wink.
“Oops,” he says, laughter coating the word.
The expensive B109 is coating my combat boots as I glare right at him.
Yeah, he’s done for. Such a fucking brat. I guess it’s a good thing that that’s what I do best—taming men like him.
And unfortunately for him, it won’t be the sexy kind of taming. But the kind that hurts.