Page 1 of Tyrant

Chapter One

TYRANT

Pain is routine.So is murder. I hold the candle up to my face and watch the flame dance against my breath. Think about it—I control the flame. I control everything. It’s my power. It’s who I am. That’s whyshe’s on her knees in front of me, naked, wrists chained in front of her. She stares up at me with baby-blue eyes, absolutely terrified, yet completely giving to me. This is what she wanted. What she signed up for.

She can’t see my face because I’m wearing my mask. We all wear masks during moments such as this. We have to be hidden in some way. We’re the most powerful people in the world. We’re the sons of those in control of everything. Some of us are bastards. All of us are evil.

Take right now, for example, I can’t help but think about taking out a knife with a long, sharp, perfectly shined blade, and running it right across this woman’s throat. Slice her ear to ear and leave her to bleed out on the floor. That’s her ultimate fate. Nothing in her life will get better from here. This right here is nothing more than a fix. Like a junkie feeding their hungry, achy veins. All I’m doing is feeding this woman’s hungry, achy desires that she can’t express inthe real world.

Amazing to think she’ll wake up tomorrow and just go about her day. Fuck, for all I know, she’ll wake up and make scrambled eggs for her spoiled shithead kids and drive the family minivan to sit in line at school drop-off before going to Pilates because she needs hermom asstight and firm for her loser of a husband, who spends his time in the shower jerking off, thinking about the new secretary fresh out of college with huge, still-lifted tits.

“Fucking pathetic,” I growl. “Boring fucking life. You’ll never be happy. Stupid cunt.”

I feel a hand push between my shoulder blades.

Yeah, I know, I get it. No fucking talking. She didn’t pay to be verbally abused.

I shake my head, reach down and grab at her left tit. Her tits are very nice, if I’m being honest. I don’t get why women fear the reality of time and their age.

I stroke my thumb across the woman’s nipple. Her skin is speckled with freckles. Her skin is a little scratchy and leathery too. Fucking woman spends too much time in the sun or in a tanning booth.

“Look up at me, bitch,” I order.

She does as told. Makes no sense to me. This woman is beautiful. She can be out every single night, hitting the bars, getting fucked by dozens of men. Men her age. Men my age. She could be taking two cocks at a time. Fuck, make it three or more too. Why not?

I moved the candle toward my mouth and slowly stick my tongue out. I flick my tongue against the flame and the wick, making a sensual gesture. It stings likefireand the flame disappears.

I cup the woman’s left tit in my hand and lower the candle down toward her nipple. I tip the candle and let the hot wax drip.

The woman gasps and whimpers in pain as the wax grabs her nipple and starts to harden. I drop the candle to the floor anddebate pulling my cock free and throat fucking her until she’s crying and throwing up on me. Instead, I simply step to the right.

That’s my part for the night in this gesture. This game.

If this woman only knew she had been brought to a secret society calledSinners Academyand it was full of testosterone-filled guys in their early twenties looking to fuck, fight, and take control of the world…

I step through a curtain to my right and forget all about the woman. She’s just one of a few billion that exist.

As I reach for my mask, a hand grabs my wrist.

“Don’t,” a voice thunders next to me. “Luc called an emergency meeting.”

I curl my lip under my mask. “For what?”

“There’s a new arrival coming soon… and someone needs to go kidnap her…”

I’m notsure who named itPergbut the secret room is short forPergamos. If you have no fucking idea what that means, simply put, it’s where the devil sits. A church where the devil has his throne.

Yeah, we have a throne here. It’s a high-back, black throne. Soft like velvet, carved decades ago with skulls, roses, and the portrayals of hell etched so carefully into its spectacular wood. Some of us want to sit on the throne. Others don’t give a flying fuck about it. In reality, we’re all going to make a fuck load more money away fromSAthan sticking around.

We all wear our masks. Lined up in a row, just a handful of us. The ones Luc called upon. Luc is short for Lucifer. Fitting since he’s the one sitting on the throne, right? Lucifer isn’t hisreal name, just like Tyrant isn’t mine. We’re all given names when we arrive. Tossed from society due to our…indiscretions.

I bet you want to know my real name right now, huh?

No fucking chance.

Luc sits on the throne, dressed in all black, his mask golden. The only golden mask.

“We have two matters at hand that need attention immediately,” he says in hisgolden boyvoice. “We’ve received notice of a new arrival. We need to accommodate her properly. She must be taken from the comfort of her home and brought here. All the necessary arrangements have been made. I just need two of you to get her.”

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