Page 25 of The Duplicity of Thieves

He grins with crooked yellow teeth. “Playing hard to get, huh?”

His words throw some sort of switch inside of me. It could have been a calm night. Guess I’ll break my promise of no violence. This idiot has no sense of self-preservation. I slither one hand up Ashtray’s arm and thread my fingers in his hair, getting a good grip on the back of his head.

“I told you to go, the fuck, away,” I growl through gritted teeth. Then I smash his face into the bar over and over, until blood pours from his nose. The bartender sets the whiskey in front of me, frowning at the bloody mess.

I hold Ashtray’s nose over my glass, and the blood splashes in. I swirl it with my finger, making him watch, and drink it in his face. When I release him, Ashtray falls to the floor, scrambling backward and running out in terror. The bartender returns with a black rag and wipes the mess up mumbling to himself.

I look around to see if anyone noticed, and lock eyes with a man sitting at a large couch circling a table in the dark corner. He looks bored and out of place, as if he isn’t in the center of some sort of dark dungeon club, until he notices me. He has on a tight dark suit jacket with nothing underneath. Tattoos cover his entire torso and crawl up his neck ending at his chin. Each outline is intensified by the red lighting. The sight of him makes me want to trail my fingers over them. His dark pants are finished with shiny black dress shoes. There’s recognition in his gaze.

There are other people in his section, including a strange large man with long black hair, a full beard, and golden horned headpiece twisting down his temples, the points resting on his cheeks. Another shirtless man wearing a golden helmet is perched on the arm of the couch.

The guy stands up, making a move to approach me. It hits me where I know this man from. Amber, leather, and sweat permeates my atmosphere before he’s even near. The man from the alley. The one that said he would see me again. The one I wouldn’t tell my name. Fuck, fuck, shit.

“There you are!” Vivian shouts. “We’re going to find David! Stand over there so we can find you again.”

I roll my eyes and nod.

The guy with the helmet tries to get the stranger’s attention to no avail. Then the bull slaps the stranger’s shoulder. I move to the other end of the bar in the corner to pacify Vivian. By the time I turn back to watch, the stranger has slammed the bull against the wall in a chokehold.

I can’t tell if I’ve orgasmed, or if I am having an out of body experience. I’ll be the first to admit I have an affinity for violent men, even Killian had his moments, but this one takes the cake. I remember how much danger lingered in his aura. I picture his hands around my throat, and I can hardly breathe, anxiety replaced by arousal.

Finally, I catch a glimpse of David, and he’s standing right behind the stranger, smiling. They know each other. Fuck, fuck, shit, indeed.

Chapter five

Aedonaeus

I’m dreading the night ahead. My last meeting left me nervous, a feeling I’m not familiar with. I stand in my penthouse gazing out of the expansive windowed wall overlooking Asphodel. The city is full of neon lights, and people cluster in the streets looking like ants. From up here, I could squash them all with my thumb.

I pour myself a drink and return to the window, like looking out of it will eventually make whatever is missing from my existence materialize. My life is a perpetual waiting room. I’m either waiting for orders or information, and both are really irritating.

Reclused in my mind, I go into the bathroom and turn the shower on, ready to wash away my disgust. I stare into the mirror at my stubbled chin and dark messy hair. With a stretch, I step into the boiling water, letting the bathroom steam until I can’t see a foot in front of my face. I can’t help but think some more, my least favorite pastime. Yet, I can’t seem to stop.

“Aedonaeus,” a light, airy voice addresses me.

I hate fucking so many women, but I can’t stop bringing them home. They’re all so desperate to be whatever I want them to be. None of them fit right, but damn do they try. With each attempt they only drag themselves to that same desperate label that makes them so repulsive to me. All of them except for one. I brush it off. It’s easy to want something you can’t have.

“What?” I growl, trying to keep my cool. This girl should have left hours ago, but I must have been too distracted to see it through.

“Mind if I join you?” She tries to give her sexiest stance, leaning against the opening to the shower.

I don’t even look in her direction. “I do, actually. Get out.”

“What?” she squeaks.

“You heard me. Get the fuck out. I trust you remember where the elevator is?”

There is confusion splayed across her features, and it brings me just a little bit of relief. Each one I hurt probably won’t come back. The girl whose name I can’t remember leaves quickly, and I hear the bathroom door slam behind her. I don’t even wince. They all lack common sense and possess some sort of hope that they are different from the rest, but they’re not. Not to me, anyways.

Once I’m done with my shower, I dress and head to the club for the first time in weeks. When I walk up, the same shitty bouncer is there with his stupid snake face that makes me want to hit him, but it’s another day that I don’t. As the thick rusty metal door closes behind me, I can hear him hissing at my blatant disregard for his antics.

The music wraps around me, making it easier to ignore the people who try to get my attention. Once I’m downstairs, I head to the private booth and fall back onto the couch, throwing my head backward and staring at the ceiling in irritation. The Brutes, as I call them, are already there.

“Rough night?” Hermes asks with a stifled laugh.

Minos rolls his eyes. “You always find something to complain about, don’t you?”

Hermes and Minos are my best friends. We’re like brothers, but they’re also arrogant. Even so, they’ve both always had my back. Per usual, there is no shirt on either of them, but I guess I’m not much better. Like a suit jacket makes up for the fact I’ve left my chest bare.

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