Page 13 of Stroke of Shadows

Sythe accepted the little snuff spoon, inhaling the powder at the end. “Fucking furry shouldn’t have looked at me.”

It had taken Sythe seconds to read the room; the hostility coming off Wyatt palpable. It hadn’t taken a genius to guess it was aimed at the shifter who’d sat beside him. It was the first session, and Sythe had done everything he could to end it with a fistfight.

The aim had been to get noticed, and in the second session, Wyatt had moved to sit beside him.

“You’re right, rich boy. This shit’s good.” Tilting his head back, he closed his eyes, the instantaneous rush bristling his beast. It wasn’t the first time he’d taken cocaine, and the drug was relatively tame compared to brimstone, which was more popular amongst Breed. But it wasn’t something he took casually, not wanting anything in his system that could jeopardise his ability to think or fight.

Despite what he’d said, the stuff was weak as shit. But still he waited, making sure his irises were normal before returning to the conversation.

“Better than the stuff you gave me the other week.” Wyatt sniffed the powder this time, rubbing at his nose.

“I’m sorry we don’t all have trust funds,” Sythe joked. “Next time I won’t share.”

A lie, considering it was all in the plan. Drugs were an easy way to make Wyatt relaxed in his presence. A friend with common hobbies and interests, and not someone who planned to destroy his legacy.

Wyatt sniggered, relaxing back in his wicker chair as the party continued around them. The pool was full of twenty or so barely clothed people, with a few balloons being passed around the excited crowd, as well as some metal canisters. Another twenty or so people danced at the edges, some sitting with their legs in the water or smoking in the chairs provided. A DJ was set up beneath a gazebo towards the back, the music more electric than pop.

A woman pulled herself from the pool, her bikini barely covering her fake breasts. She immediately made her way through the dancers, pausing when she spotted Wyatt. “Hey, where’s George?” she asked. “I haven’t seen him around in a while, and he’s not returning my calls.”

“Fuck George, that pussy’s decided he can’t handle the heat.” Wyatt’s smile strained. “What do you want, Sasha? I didn’t think you were still fucking him?”

Sythe forced his body to relax, knowing George was currently in pieces along the riverbed of the Thames. Jax had already tied up any loose ends, including leaving a message to Wyatt explaining he was skipping town.

“It was only casual.” Sasha flicked her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “So you going to share? Or you keeping that powder to yourself?” A gold chain wrapped around her waist, a large diamond sitting just below her belly button. Rich. Just like everyone else in attendance. Socialites living off their daddy’s money.

Wyatt leaned back, patting his thighs.

With a giggle, she draped herself over his lap. He didn’t seem to care that she was wet, burying his face in her neck to nibble along her skin. She grabbed for the bag, scooping the powder up with one of her fake long nails. Turning to Sythe, she met his eyes before snorting.

“Who’s your friend?” she purred, tongue flicking out to lick along her bottom lip. “I haven’t seen him before. He’s cute.”

“This is Sythe, baby. Do you have any friends to keep him company?” Wyatt winked at him while wrapping his arms around her waist.

“They have to be as pretty as you,” Sythe said with a flirtatious smile. She melted at his words, but Sythe felt nothing as her eyes travelled down his body with a feral heat to land between his legs. Not a single fucking thing.

His cock should be stirring at the possibility of sex, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t fucked women under a guise before. He did everything needed when he went dark. But all he could do was compare her to his mystery girl. Blonde hair rather than brunette with a flick of white. Fake giant tits rather than a natural handful. Skinny rather than soft curves that would cushion his harder lines.

“You heard him, go get your friends.” Wyatt pushed her from his lap, slapping her bare arse with the flat of his palm. “Go.” It made a thwack sound, loud enough even above the music.

“You’re such an arsehole,” she hissed, moving towards the bi-fold doors to the house with extra anger in her step.

Sythe waited until she was out of sight before shaking his head. “You really have a way with women.”

“She does this every time.” Wyatt shrugged, his movements over-exaggerated. “She’ll still suck my cock like a fucking champ later.” Shaking the powder bag, he took another hit.

Sythe didn’t expect him to be so reckless, not when research had shown him to be ruthless when it came to being his father’s messenger. But reckless was good. Reckless meant he’d invite a complete stranger out just because he punched a shifter in the face, and then offer him drugs.

“So who’s the guy who fucked up enough that he needs a visit from you?” Sythe asked, ignoring the half-naked bodies in his peripheral. Many seemed apprehensive, shooting them curious frowns the longer they lounged there. The ages seemed to range from late teens to early thirties.

“Sailor Polton.” Wyatt placed down the bag, only to down the rest of his beer. “His father and mine do some dealings together. We’re here because they took out a loan, and he’s missed a few payments.”

“Payments?” Sythe let out a whistle. “Nobody fucks with money.”

“Exactly.” Wyatt bounced in his seat, getting more and more excitable by the second. “No one fucks with money, and no one messes with my father unless they want to deal with me.”

Sythe pushed for more information. It seemed Wyatt was a lot more loose lipped when he was high. “Yeah? So, what does he do then?”

Wyatt blinked, the slight glaze in his eyes lessening. “A little of this and that. Why?”

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