Page 53 of Dance with the Devil

She’s better off without me. I know that. God fucking knows that Damien Libellula would also agree, but even when we were in our early twenties and just coming into the life, Rolls always pushed me to find a sliver of something to look forward to.

Back then, I found it in my needle. When it was one in my arm or one in my hand, I went art instead of H, and I was… fine. Part of me was searching for that muse, hoping for that spark, but if it never happened, then whatever.

Now it has—and it’s torture going back to the way it used to be.

The emptiness. The loneliness. The constant ache behind my eyes, and the endless thoughts running like a train through my head as I basically beg for the sweet release of sleep if only to forget for a few blissful hours that I held my butterfly in my hands only to set her free.

Free… I snort under my breath again. Whether it’s a gilded cage of her own making, or one where her older brother holds the key, there’s no denying that Genevieve is just as trapped now as she was when Winter kept us behind that glass wall.

And, like then, there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

So, locking down my emotions as I pretend not to see his concern for me, I simply say, “None scheduled, but that could always change.”

And if it doesn’t, that’s fine, too. I have other shit to do, and if I can dodge Rolls getting to the point behind his unexpected visit, I will—and then I can get to it.

To be fair, I shouldn’t bethatsurprised he stopped by. Besides the fact that his new wife works as a waitress for the Devil’s Playground, when Rolls isn’t doing his other syndicate duties, he’s also in charge of the nightclub. He spends most nights here, running the casino in the back, making sure the girls upstairs are taken care of, and keeping the drinks flowing and the music pumping.

But that’s the thing. He should be at the Playground, not the back offices where Devil meets with his inner circle, Tanner haas most of his computer setup, and I keep my second studio sterilized and stocked. Regardless, Rolls knew where to find me tonight—checking here instead of tagging me on my phone or stopping by Sinners & Saints—and I’m sure neither one of us is leaving until he tells me why.

Royce ‘Rolls’ McIntyre is as much a Sinner as the rest of us. Still, he’s a good guy at heart, and devoted to those he considers his. Whether that’s Devil or me, his wife or those in his clean-up crew like Killian and Jose, he has a slight tendency to mother us—which, yup, is the reasonwhy he’s here now, and he proves it when he can’t help but use his free hand to gesture at my face.

“Or you could head on over to your apartment and get some rest.” Rolls clicks his tongue. “You look like shit, buddy. Like you haven’t slept in days.”

Right. Because I really haven’t. Not for more than a couple of hours at a time anyway.

He holds out the energy drink he brought with him. “Here. Something told me you might need this.”

I wave him off. “I’m good. Thanks.”

Rolls’s brow furrows further as he lowers his arm to his side. “You sure? You normally guzzle this shit by the gallon.”

I used to. It’s not even the memory of the nasty caffeine headache I spent three days dealing with before it subsided enough for me to feel human again that got me to quit the stuff. Turns out, only being able to sleep soundly with Genevieve in my arms wasn’t a fluke. I haven’t slept for shit since we broke free of Winter’s prison, but the idea of chugging an energy drink to be coherent has lost its flavor.

I told her once that there were worse things I could be addicted to. I meant it, and I’d only begun my fascinationwith her then. Now? My Genevieve withdrawals are even more fucked-up than those caffeine ones.

I pat my chest. “Gotta start thinking about the ol’ ticker. Wouldn’t want it to up and explode on me. Especially not after all the trouble you guys went to to bring me home.”

Rolls moves closer to me, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “Never doubted we would for a moment,” he swears.

I didn’t, either. Nope. It was whether I’d still be in one piece when they finally tracked us down that I wasn’t so sure of it, but as long as Genevieve made it out, I didn’t care. Now we both did, and it’s as painful living without her as I imagined it would be.

I don’t shake Rolls off. Part of me wants to, but I’d never disrespect my oldest friend like that. Instead, I change the subject to one guaranteed to get him away from the one I’m eager to avoid.

“Enough about me. How’ve you been? How’s your wife doing?”

Rolls’s whole face lights up as he shifts his position, leaning with his suit jacket up against the wall at his back. “Nic? She’s doing great. Not too happy with me that I won’t let her leave the Suites until I’ve introduced Winter to ol’ Woody the woodchipper, but she’s been helping Ava out with the baby while Devil’s taking care of Sinners business.”

I still can’t believe I missed it. That Ava finally gave birth while Genevieve and I were trapped in that cell. I haven’t had the chance to meet Devil’s daughter yet, either, though that’s probably to be expected.

When I’ve spent every minute I’m awake obsessing over my butterfly, I’ve barely had time to keep my studio going, let alone pretend like some part of me didn’t die when I had to let Genevieve go.

But her brother was right. I would only remind her of the trauma she went through, and he said that before he knew thatI was forced to fuck her on camera. For God’s sake, she was avirgin. She’ll never have sex again without thinking about how her first time was stolen from her.

I did that. And I can tell myself all I want that I had no choice, that they would have shot her in the knees if I didn’t, but that only explains the first time I fucked her.

The second time? She might’ve been the one to come on to me, to tell me that she needed to own the act on the heels of being forced to take my cock, but I would’ve done anything to get back inside of her. I didn’t need to be convinced, and a good man wouldn’t have been.

A good man would’ve known that she’d just been sexually assaulted—that we both had by Johnny Winter and his goons—and told her that we could wait until we were safely out of the cell again.

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