Page 23 of Bloodlust

Moe's eyebrow perks up. "That would work."

I blink. "What?"

"Take him," Moe says with a shrug. "Show him a good time."

"I'll go too," Leo says casually. "In case anything happens."

"Why?" Enzo asks, glancing at his son. "Do you not trust her to handle Malik herself?"

Leo's jaw clenches. "I do but?—"

"Then it's settled!" Moe slams his hand on the table. "Friday will be your time to shine, Camilla." He lowers his voice. "Do not let us down."

I suck in an audible breath. "I won't."

He wants me to shine. To spread my light.

But I'm a black hole.

And they don't shine.

Chapter 7

Purpose

Most people fuck for pleasure.

They want to feel good. They want every cell in their body humming with a euphoric release. They want to chase nature's ultimate high. They want to feel wanted. Want to feel loved. Touched. Seen.

Me? I don't fuck for pleasure.

I fuck for purpose.

Pleasure is simply an added bonus... If done right.

My purpose varies from day to day. Sometimes I need to mute the world. Other times, I need to mute my own mind. But more often than not, I think my purpose is a test.

A test to check if I'm still human. If my body and spirit and mind are still present. Still of this world. There are days when I feel like I'm floating. Where everything is detached. Nothing is connected.

Sex is grounding.

It pulls me together for a fleeting moment, a temporaryblip in time, and then when it's over, I'm scattered again.

Like shattered fragments of a withering being.

Broken.

There's a beauty to being broken.

A safety of sorts.

Once broken, the damage seems to lessen over time. If you drop a plate off of a ten-story building, it's going to break. It's going to litter the street with shards of ceramic. And if you collect all the shards, and drop them over and over and over again, the pieces start to stay intact. Too small to break.

My pieces are microscopic. Barely visible.

And today, the pieces will momentarily mold together for a different purpose.

Business.

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