Page 39 of A Kiss of Deception

19

MILKOR

"Ready to do something crazy?"

Meetha's eyes sparkle with mischief, a look I've come to both dread and desire. My demonic form towers over her, all muscle and raw power, yet she holds the true control.

"Do I have a choice?" I growl, the words rumbling deep in my chest.

She sticks out her tongue, playful and infuriating. "Nope!"

With a flick of her wrist, an invisible force tugs at my core. I follow, because what else can I do? The little purna has me bound tighter than any chains.

We step through shimmering air, reality bending around us.

The stench of sweat and cheap perfume assaults my nostrils as we burst through the doors of The Velvet Veil. Meetha's hand grips mine tightly, her eyes wild with excitement. The din of drunken laughter and sultry music washes over us.

"Welcome to mommy dearest's old stomping grounds," Meetha purrs, her lips curling into a wicked grin.

I scan the dimly lit room, taking in the sight of scantily clad women gyrating on stages and in laps. Greasy-haired men leer atthem, their meaty hands groping and pawing. The whole scene disgusts me, yet I can't look away.

"Why are we here?" I growl, my demonic form causing several nearby patrons to shrink back in fear.

Meetha's eyes narrow, zeroing in on a man across the room. Without a word, she releases my hand and stalks towards him like a predator. I watch, intrigued, as she weaves through the crowd.

"That's the one," she mutters, her voice barely audible. "The bastard who cheated my Korrine."

"How can you be sure?" I growl, matching her hushed tone.

A wicked smile plays on her lips. "Let's just say I have my ways. Did you know purnas can glimpse fragments of the past? It's how I learned about his daughter, Lila."

I raise an eyebrow, impressed despite myself. "Useful trick."

Meetha nods, her eyes never leaving her target. "Oh, it is. And it's about to become very useful indeed."

We pause, observing the scene before us. The man, oblivious to our presence, continues his boisterous laughter and groping.

"So, what's the plan?" I murmur, leaning close to Meetha's ear.

She smirks, her eyes glinting with determination. "First, we make him remember. Then, we make him regret."

With that, she starts moving towards him, each step purposeful and predatory. I follow, my demonic presence causing a ripple of unease through the crowd.

The man she's targeting is tall, broad-shouldered, with a thick beard and expensive clothes. He's laughing boisterously, one meaty hand gripping a mug of ale while the other paws at a dancer's thigh.

As we approach the man, I feel Meetha tense beside me. Her earlier excitement gives way to something darker, more primal.The air around her crackles with suppressed energy, and I can smell the sharp tang of her anger.

For a moment, she hesitates. I see a flicker of doubt in her eyes, a brief internal struggle. Then her gaze hardens, resolve etching itself into every line of her face.

"Ready?" I murmur, low enough that only she can hear.

Meetha takes a deep breath, then nods. "Let's do this."

She taps the man's shoulder. He turns, a lecherous grin spreading across his face as he takes in her lithe form. His mouth opens, no doubt to spew some crude remark.

But before he can utter a word…

Meetha's fist connects. Bone cracks. The man stumbles. All eyes turn to me.

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