Chapter 15 #2
Raven didn't respond right away. He watched the crowd, watched the way shadows moved across the walls.
If Pierre was the Collector, this wasn't just about justice—it was about containment.
And Raven knew better than anyone: monsters didn't hide in the dark.
They danced in plain sight, at least in the King's world.
Raven couldn't wait any longer. The need to speak to Mynx had been gnawing at him since she walked in, but Pierre's presence turned that quiet urgency into something feral.
The man had shown too much interest in her in Cabo—lingering looks, veiled comments, the kind of attention that felt more like a warning than a compliment.
And Pierre wasn't above punishing performers for Raven's boundaries, especially when he suspected Raven wanted them for himself.
He'd planned to wait until after the meeting to give her the choker. But now felt right. Necessary.
It wasn't just a gift—it was a message.
Raven stood, scanning the room once more. The deal with the Stallions could wait. Mynx couldn't.
Tonight, she'd wear his mark. And the room would know exactly what that meant.
"Excuse me, Dad. There's something I need to check on.
" The words came out smoother than he felt, a practiced tone that hid the urgency beneath.
He stood up, feeling the momentary pull of freedom as he moved toward the crowd, toward Mynx, toward the life he craved away from his father's suffocating ambition.
His father stared at him, eyes sharp with expectation, waiting for an invitation into whatever Raven was building.
The silence stretched, heavy and deliberate.
But Raven just stared back silently, waiting for his response.
"Don't be long. This situation with the Stallions is fragile at best."
Hector's voice cut through the haze of cigar smoke, low and deliberate.
He watched Raven walk away from the table, eyes narrowed with that familiar edge—part warning, part challenge.
The smoke curled around his face like a veil, but Raven saw the flash in his gaze: a silent command to stay focused, to prioritize the deal over whatever distraction had pulled him away.
But Raven was done folding under the weight of his father's expectations.
He gave a curt nod, the kind that acknowledged without conceding, and turned toward the crowd. The club pulsed around him—music, bodies, tension—but his focus had narrowed to one thing. One woman. One moment.
Tonight, he would steal a few moments for himself. Just a breath. Just a heartbeat. Before the spotlight rose and the night demanded everything else.
He navigated through the throng of incoming members, eyes trained ahead, eager to connect with Mynx before the weight of family and obligations pulled him back again.
She had a way of making him forget the darkness surrounding their reality, if only for a moment.
The hallway to the dressing rooms brimmed with hopeful members who wanted to be first in line to receive private services from their favorite performers.
These men didn't have the deep pockets of Blood Lust's elite, but they came hungry all the same.
Most time slots were auctioned off online weeks in advance, giving the performers a chance to maximize their earnings and choose their clientele with precision.
But for the rest—for the ones who couldn't afford to plan, only chase—they fought their way down the velvet-lined halls, hoping to catch a glimpse, a moment, a chance.
That was the allure of Blood Lust.
It wasn't just a club—it was a crucible. A world suspended between desire and danger, where fantasy could flourish or fracture in the same breath. Where beauty was currency, and attention could mean war.
If it came easily, they wouldn't crave it so fiercely. Wouldn't pay so much. Wouldn't bleed for it.
And that was the point. The hunger made it real.
"Boss—," the man standing guard at the doorway said with a nod as he approached.
"Steve," Raven nodded, "I trust everyone is behaving themselves tonight."
"So far so good, it's early yet. Members are insistent as always, but we have the situation under control," he replied, pushing another member back to allow Raven by.
"Great work as always," Raven responded, clasping his shoulder as he passed, making his way to the head of the labyrinth of hallways that led to multiple dressing rooms.
Performers rushed across the backstage floor, heels clicking in sharp rhythm as they scrambled to finalize their first outfits of the evening.
Laughter burst from dressing rooms, mingling with loud conversations and the rustle of fabric.
Stylists adjusted straps, pinned hems, and shouted for missing accessories.
The air buzzed with urgency, weaving a vibrant thread of chaos through every corner.
Backstage pulsed with life—imperfect, electric, and ready to explode into brilliance the moment the curtain rose.
A hand snaked around Raven's wrist as he took his first few steps toward Mynx's dressing room, avoiding eye contact with passersby to draw as little attention to himself as possible. The sudden touch took him by surprise, causing him to turn.
"Elanah," he said, eyes widening in surprise. She stepped out of the shadows, tall and luminous in a crimson mesh dress that clung to her curves like water.
Her signature scent—sandalwood and lavender—hit him before her voice did, curling around his senses like a memory he hadn't asked to relive. Raven's steps faltered, the familiar ache of recognition blooming in his chest before he could shut it down.
Her hair fell in soft curls over her shoulders, cascading down the contours of her hourglass frame like silk spun for seduction. She was beautiful—undeniably so. The kind of beauty that once made Raven pause, recalibrate, forget himself.
But not tonight.
Tonight, she was a distraction—a ghost of indulgence he'd already buried. The interruption in his night was far from welcome, and the timing was too precise to be a coincidence.
"Where are you going in such a rush, love?" she said. Her voice was a soft purr as she tried to tug him into an alcove tucked behind a velvet curtain in the hallway.
"Elanah, now is not the time," Raven muttered, his voice low but firm, eyes flicking down the hallway to the door he knew Mynx was behind. Her hand lingered on his arm, but he pushed it away with a quiet finality.
She was fast as she descended upon him, hands smoothing across the lapel of his jacket, her body molding to his. Raven hated to be cruel, but she was pushing all the right buttons to get that reaction from him tonight, and she wasn't going to like the outcome.
"You sure about that?" she asked, her voice husky with desire. "You know— you're circling the wrong flame, Raven. Mynx may be beautiful—desirable even—but I could set your whole world on fire—and you know it. If you'd just let me prove it, I could be the Queen you deserve."
He stiffened, feeling his pulse thudding in his throat.
Elanah's timing was terrible. Raven had way too much on his plate to deal with her brand of drama.
He had no idea what kind of game she was playing to keep him away from Mynx, but he had already made it clear to her more than once that their relationship was over.
"The problem with you, Elanah, is not that you're unworthy. It's that you crave drama—create it—so you can perform for those around you. That's not what I want from the future Queen of this organization."
He stepped back just enough to break her hold, eyes sharp and unwavering.
"Elanah," he said, voice low, controlled. "You were never the wrong flame. Just the wrong future for me, I'd hoped you would understand without me being cruel, but you won't, so I want you to listen to the words I'm about to say and understand that I mean them. Do you understand?"
Elanah's smile flickered, something cold creeping into her expression.
Raven saw the shift—the wounded pride beneath her painted confidence.
But he didn't have time to piece her back together, not tonight.
He'd let her actions slide, but now it was time to be brutally honest with the woman.
Not only for himself, but for her, to spare her any more disappointment.
"I'm not looking for a queen any longer," Raven said, his voice low, deliberate. "I already know who will wear the crown."
He locked eyes with Elanah, letting the weight of his words settle before continuing.
"Elanah, let me make this crystal clear. You and I? We made a mistake that ended. Keep pushing me, and you won't like the results. You're not just playing with me—you're playing with your place in this club."
His tone sharpened, the velvet edge stripped away. "Don't mistake my tolerance for your presence as interest."
She didn't flinch, but Raven caught the flicker in her eyes—the brief, unmistakable shift when realization hit. He wasn't bluffing. Not tonight. Not anymore.
Her gaze hardened, the warmth draining as disappointment settled over her like a veil.
It coated her in silence, thick and unforgiving.
Her posture changed—subtle but telling. Shoulders squared, chin lifted, but the reach in her body was gone.
She wasn't trying to pull him back anymore.
She was bracing herself against the truth.
And that was precisely what Raven needed. He broke free from her hold, stepping back without breaking eye contact.
"You're here by choice. Don't make me take that choice away, Elanah."
"You're going to regret not choosing me—Raven," she said, her voice cold, each word descending like frost on his skin. "I hope your words echo when the silence closes in. I hope they taste different when you're alone with them."
Raven slammed her slender body against the wall, his right hand pinning her in place by the throat.