Page 6 of Viper

He planned to take things slow with her. To move with care, give her his full attention, and drag her so far under his spell she would accept all that he’d eventually have to reveal to her.

Some might say it made him a selfish bastard. There was no denying that since falling he’d become a literal stain upon this world. She deserved a life that wasn’t touched by him. But Viper hadn’t been ‘good’ in a long time, so here he was.

There was nothing sweet and flowery about what he felt for her. It wasn’t romantic or anyone’s idea of progressive. It was obsession and greed and a dark sense of ownership all tangled up with a blindingly intense emotion that, until her, had always eluded him.

She’d been easy to fall for—no pun intended with the whole ‘fall’ thing.

She was a person who would rise to any challenge. If she couldn’t move through something, she’d find some way to flow around it or leap over it—nothing was a true obstacle to her. Something he respected and admired.

She loved fiercely. Had a capacity for compassion that he found staggering. Anyone who’d heard about the life he’d led—a life that had weighed him down, darkened his soul, and stole so many choices from him—might have judged and shied away from him. She hadn’t. Nor had she shied away from being with him after hearing of the subsequent curse.

And she washappyfor others. Too many people were jealous of those around him or resented them for having what they didn’t. Not her. Not as Everleigh or Ella, because they were one and the same.

In her previous life, she’drememberedhim after their first meeting—nobody after did that unless he allowed it. Until her.

Sometimes, when Ella looked at him a certain way, he could even think she remembered him now. But that was likely wishful thinking on his part.

He tossed back a mouthful of beer and took an idle scan of his surroundings. The hall was dim—a deliberate effect of the tintedwindows and low lighting. The neon ‘Beer’ signs hanging above the long mahogany bar did nothing to brighten the place.

Waitresses took orders from the patrons who’d either claimed tables or were playing pool. Other patrons sat at bar stools chatting, scrolling through their cell, or watching the darts game playing live on the wall-mounted TV. A few people hung at the back where gaming machines, an ATM, and a jukebox lined one wall.

An image shot to the forefront of his mind. An image of every single one of those patrons dead, their throats slit, their bodies gutted, their blood everywhere.

The image came from the once-holy being with which Viper shared his soul. Bored, it was ‘suggesting’ they instigate a bloodbath. Not unusual for the sadistic entity.

Viper focused on his five club brothers who were gathered around a pool table engaging in regular shit talk.

On falling, they’d all chosen the biker lifestyle. It fit the dynamic they already had after their years in service to heaven’s higher-ups. And they didn’t feel that they could connect with this realm’s normative society. They collectively had different values, different beliefs, different priorities.

Having secrets to protect, they hadn’t invited others into their club. Ellawouldjoin eventually, obviously. She just didn’t know that yet.

After doing a few ‘jobs’ with some local imps, they’d ended up with a surplus of cash that enabled them to buy land, businesses, and vacant buildings. They had no involvement in any sort of trafficking, and their businesses were legitimate—earning them no human attention.

But did they keep their hands perfectly clean? No. They hunted any hell-born demons who’d escaped from that place.

Old habits and all that.

Where the fuck was Ella?

She always arrived at six-thirty, give or take ten minutes. It was now seven pm, but there was no sign of her. He didn’t like it.

Viper rolled back his shoulders, struggling to tamp down his unease. The world of demons was brutal, and Ella … he’d swear she’d been hexed or some shit. Danger seemed to constantly dog her heels like a puppy chasing after its master.

She juststumbledinto situations, always in the wrong place at the worst time. Like a month ago, when she’d come across a woman being mugged. Ella had intervened, only to subsequently get hit by a psychic punch that knocked her unconscious.

Viper had stepped in fast, killing the bastard who’d dared harm her and wiping the memory of it from the mind of the woman who’d been mugged; replacing said memory with a false one of the mugger sprinting away.

He could have instead played the white knight who’d killed Ella’s attacker, yes. But he hadn’t been ready to plant himself in her life at that point. Plus, it would have meant lying to her about why he’d been close by.

Viper was no stranger to lies or trickery. He’d mastered deception long ago. He was good at it. Typically, it didn’t bother him to rattle off untruths. But Ella wasn’t just anyone.

A round of crowing rang out from one of the far tables, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Do you really have to bitch at me?” complained Ghost, rubbing a blue chalk square over the tip of his cue, his gray eyes locked on the club’s Road Captain.

“I’m not bitching, I’m saying.” Razor bent over the pool table and took his shot, sending a ball tumbling into one of the pockets.

“You can’ttellme what to wear,” Ghost insisted.

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