Chapter 1 #3
The mechanics, the motives, the psychology.
A whole year under Vesta, the queen of madams, had taught me what true talent looked like.
I’d learned how to read a client with a single glance and give them not what they asked for, but what they needed.
Sometimes, I even did the work myself—undercover, raw, real.
It helped that I was a fairy with the power to tap into desire itself. To make people see what they yearned for most. What made their hearts pound and their reason unravel.
Vesta hadn’t let me use that power, not even once, during the mentorship. All I could rely on were my senses. It had been infuriating, but when I passed her final tests with nothing but my wits and instincts, the high was like nothing else.
Now, I wanted it all.
Tonight, I’d use everything. My magic. My instincts.
My body. All of it on my mystery man. A night of fantasy, raw and unfiltered.
I deserved it. It was my twenty-first birthday, the last before the crown truly passed to us.
After that, there’d be no room for wild nights.
No reckless pleasure. Just power, money, and blood.
The elevator chimed, bringing me to the top-floor suite that was reserved for only Syndicate family members. It was ours and ours alone.
I stepped into the marble foyer, the click of my heels matching the steady beat of my heart. The chilled champagne I’d ordered was waiting in the fridge. I grabbed it, along with two glasses and an ice bucket, and made my way to the bedroom.
I considered uncorking it but smirked instead. Men loved their little rituals. “Watch me open the bottle… Doesn’t my dick look good from this angle?”
Laughing to myself, I set everything on the nightstand, then thought better of it. I didn’t need to kick over the bucket mid-orgasm, so I moved it to the credenza beneath the TV. Less possibility for blood and cleanup.
Maybe we need whipped cream? I knew he was good with his tongue.
Three beeps echoed from the front door, and my pussy clenched. Memories of earlier flashed—him licking down my thighs, his grip, his mouth, his need. I raised my hand and clapped three times. Instantly, the lights cut out, enveloping the suite in shadow.
“Come find me,” I called, wings unfurling as I pressed against the wall beside the door. I didn't want to make it too easy.
Heavy steps entered. Confident. Controlled. Each one caused my heartbeat to go faster and faster.
Then a crash. A frustrated growl. Oh, is he getting frustrated by my little game? Wanting me so desperately he can’t wait?
Another door flung open down the hall, and I closed my eyes, simply feeling the vibration. Excitement for the chase bubbled up.
Wanting to be ready for him, I slipped out of my thong and rubbed my clit with trembling fingers, moaning quietly as my slick heat welcomed two of them in. The vibrations from the second slammed door rolled through the wall, sending chills up my spine.
I moaned again, too loud this time, and the door burst open.
A hand gripped my wrist and slammed it above my head, pinning me to the wall with a force that rattled my teeth. I kept my eyes closed, wanting to live out that mystery just a little longer.
Our breaths mingled, his now minty. He must have cleaned himself of me. Shame. I liked how I tasted on his lips.
He inhaled deep at my neck, then sighed like he’d been starved. “I want everything tonight. I want us so ruined we beg for death just for the mercy of rest.” Was his voice so growly before? Did the music of the club drown out his voice?
He didn’t wait for permission, just grabbed my other wrist as he rubbed his length against me. I could feel the outline of his cock, hard and ready.
Teeth first, I lunged, biting and sucking at his bottom lip. His body sagged against mine, heavy, solid. I pulled back and let my magic slip into my voice. “Show me.”
My magic came out, rolling around us until he soaked it all in. He grunted in response, his hands tightening, and I knew my power had settled into him.
“Show me what you desire most. Use me. Let it out.”
When I looked up, my blood ran cold.
Clouded yellow wolf eyes stared back, not with lust, but hatred. Old, soul-carving hatred. The kind reserved for betrayal.
“Nisha, you bitch!” he growled, slamming my wrist into the wall so hard it made a dent. Thank god I had preternatural healing, or else that would’ve really hurt.
My brain cleared of my lustful fog and went into hyperdrive. This wasn’t my demon. The scent was wrong. The voice too. Familiar, yes, but not intimately. He could’ve been anyone, some bitter client, a jealous suitor, or a stalker who’d watched me from the shadows.
And now, thanks to my power, he wasn’t seeing me. He was seeing her, this Nisha—what he desired. Based on his reaction, I could also guess she had gutted him emotionally.
“You left me for my uncle?” he snarled. “You thought his dick was better?”
He flipped me onto the bed, yanking my arms behind me. I fought, kicked, thrashed, but he maneuvered like an eel. “I’ll fucking show you.”
My brain screamed for an out—Think! Father trained you for this. Riot drilled you for this.
But nothing came to me.
I’d always had someone there to catch me, to protect me, to love me, but now there was no one here but me.
As his hand climbed up my thigh, a sinking dread filled my stomach. Was this how my birthday was going to end? The Syndicate Flower getting plucked by some werewolf with a desire-filled grudge to rape the woman who’d left him.
My mom’s face appeared in my head, yelling at me to get up, to fight, to do something. I closed my eyes and gathered my strength, thinking that maybe, possibly, I could slam him with my power again, get him off balance, and wiggle enough to grab my heel with the poisoned knife.
Just as his fingers touched the curve of my ass, something inside of me shifted.
Something ancient woke up and turned its head in his direction, a part of me that lurked deep beneath the sparkle and seduction. A predator.
“You’ll wear a collar,” he murmured, rubbing a hand over my neck. “A red one. Would look nice with your red hair.”
That was his mistake.
With a flutter of my wings, I screamed as I shoved as much of my power into him as possible, disorienting him before I kicked my heel back, burying it in his thigh.
He roared, hands flying up as he stumbled back and looked at his leg.
I flew off the bed, made a beeline for the door, and… almost made it.
He charged after me, grabbing my hair and throwing me into the credenza.
“You fucking whore!”
His voice cracked as his claws sprouted. He was turning. Fuck.
Desperate, I reached up, my fingers touching something cold and sleek—the champagne bottle.
I smashed it on the edge of the credenza, shattering glass into jagged teeth before plunging it into his eye and yanking it out.
Blood sprayed the wall and TV as he screamed. His claws raked down my arm, but I didn’t feel it. I was already gone.
Somewhere deeper. Colder. Clearer.
My body moved on instinct—no, not instinct. Bloodline.
I was a Glovefox. I would not be beaten by a thing like him.
He tripped and fell. I rose over him, looking down as he cried, both because of his pain and his lost love, but I felt nothing. Not when I spread my legs over him, not when I raised my hand with the jagged bottle in hand and stabbed him in the chest.
Once. Twice. Over and over. Lift, stab, lift, stab. Liquid splattered all over my face, neck, body, but nothing could stop me. I didn't even stop when the screams descended into gurgles, which quickly turned into silence.
The laughter, at first in my head, spilled from my mouth as I took out all those ugly thoughts and feelings and turned them into my triumph.
When this side of myself receded, the job done, my body was left painted in blood. His heart laid in sheared pieces beside him. Red on the rug. Red on the walls. Red on me.
I slid the bottle back into the ice bucket. Walking over to the nightstand, I picked up my phone and dialed.
“Niya?” Riot’s confused voice filtered through the line. Normal. You need to act normal. That asshole got what was coming to him.
“Heyyy, sis! How was your flight? Job go good?”
Her pause felt like it lasted forever. “…I just landed.”
“Perfect! You’ll be proud of me, but for right now, I… I need a clean-up crew.”
Silence.
A giggle bubbled out of me, making me sound even more unhinged. “Your baby sis made a tiny mess…” I looked around and winced, “or maybe a big one.”
“Want to tell me what happened?” Her voice went down an octave, so I knew she was pissed. The real question was, who was she pissed at?
“Nah. Nothing to worry yourself about. Just a wolf who got lost in the sauce. He’s a nobody. We're at the Golden Fang.”
“Got it. I’ll send a crew right away. Love you.” Riot went right into business mode, but I appreciated her lack of questions right at this moment.
“Love you more.” Hanging up, I turned to walk out. There was nothing left for me here. Suddenly, I caught sight of myself in a mirror.
My eyes roamed my reflection, scanning myself. Bejeweled top covered with blood. Ash-white hair darkened by gore. Skin kissed by claws and violence. All I could think was, there she is, murder Barbie, and a smile lifted on my lips.
I’d never looked more like a Glovefox, more like a Syndicate heir, than I did right now.
A glittery, slutty, mafia queen reborn in blood, and no one could say shit about it.
Riot’s crew handled the aftermath like pros, but somehow, word still got out that I’d killed that werewolf. Ezra, ever the mastermind, spun it in my favor, turning me into some elusive, lethal badass that people needed to fear.
I mean, I was a badass, but the story she was selling had people avoiding me like I carried the plague, and that didn’t exactly help with getting laid. It did, however, make all my parents proud.