Page 53 of Viper

He acknowledged the order with a tip of his chin. Moments later, he plonked her drink on the bar. “Fries will be ready in fifteen minutes.”

She curled her hand around the bottle. “Thanks.”

Ella claimed a corner booth and pulled out her phone. She texted Viper:Your bar’s pretty busy tonight.

There. That was pretty much a hint that he had the option of meeting her here.

If, however, Viper hadn’t responded by the time she’d finished her fries, she’d head on home. If hedidrespond and then subsequently drag his ass here … well, then, she’d hopefully get fucked good and proper.

Time would tell.

Viper stared at the steel door as growls rumbled from the angel trapped behind it. An angel who was pounding his fists on it with preternatural strength. If it weren’t for the wards securing the door closed, Merchant would have knocked it down for certain.

It was this very room, down in the basement of their clubhouse, where any brothers who went into bloodlust were confined. There was no other choice. Not when they would kill indiscriminately and glut themselves on the blood of anyone they came across.

“I never saw any signs that he was going into bloodlust,” said Prophet, who’d been the one to contact Viper and inform him that Merchant had turned.

“It took him fast and hard, completely out of nowhere,” added Sting.

“Happens like that sometimes,” Viper reminded them.

A red haze would abruptly fall over your vision and flood your mind, shoving down everything but your predatory instincts; turning your thoughts, needs, and wants feral and rabid. Several days would pass before you snapped out of it, and you’d have no memory of what happened during that time.

Blackjack folded his arms. “I suppose we should be grateful that we usually get enough of a warning that we can lock ourselves away before we hurt anyone. But I ain’t feeling grateful, I’m feeling pissed that this is our reality.”

Viper narrowed his eyes. “Do you regret falling?”

Blackjack seemed surprised by the question. “Shit, no. I just hate that we were lumbered with this curse. We thought we could handle it, thought we understood how it would be, thought we were prepared.”

“I don’t think you can really prepare for this life,” hedged Prophet. “Do you ever regret making the decision to fall, V?”

“No. It was chipping away at everything that made me who I am; chipping away at every bit of my entity’s innocence. I was on my way to becoming like Ophaniel when I found Ella. She saved me. And if I hadn’t fallen, I wouldn’t be able to make her fully mine.” Viper would pay any price to keep her at his side.

“I don’t have any regrets,” said Sting, idly swinging one fist into his open palm. “This curse just makes me resent the Uppers even more. The last thing I’m itching to do is go back up there.”

Jester nodded with a grunt. “We had no life before. Not really. Our choices weren’t our own. Individuality was discouraged. We were numbers within a legion, not people.”

“Any of our other brothers ever mention regrets?” Viper asked no one in particular.

“Nah,” replied Prophet. “Not now that they’ve had a taste of freedom.”

Viper studied him closely. “And you?”

“I don’t wish I hadn’t fallen. But I do wish it hadn’t come to that; I wish life was different in the upper realm.” Prophet teleported out of the basement.

“He’s lying,” Jester stated.

Darko sighed. “You think everyone is either lying or planning to lie to you.”

Jester arched a brow. “You reckon I’m wrong?”

“No, Prophet definitely lied. I’m just saying, you expect it of everyone.”

“Well, if people didn’t bullshit me so often, I wouldn’t.”

Razor materialized, his gaze flying straight to the steel door that was still taking a serious beating. “I heard that Merchant had to be contained.”

“The bloodlust hit him quickly,” Sting told him. “He went from laughing at a joke to almost choking on his own breath while the red haze took over. We managed to restrain him before he could hurt anyone.”

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