Page 47 of As Angels Sin

“Yes, you really are,” Matteo agrees, looking at me with the same disgust so many have before, while they waited for their end in my kill chamber. They shot me looks that were weary, apprehensive, and disgusted.

The kind of looks that make my skin crawl in the best possible way.

Don’t forget this feeling. It’s coming back sooner than you’d think.

“We must have a drink. Toast the good news,” Matteo shifts gears and I don’t blame him. Mark starts pouring and then hands the glasses around. We clink glasses, but no one speaks. I see only bright smiles from Mark and Matteo, but Tomas remains a grumbling, grumpy mess.

After our drink, the conversation dies down, circling into small talk, and it makes Matteo uneasy.

“Well, I’d best be going,” he says abruptly, and starts for the door.

“Same,” Mark says. He pats me on the shoulder as he walks by, saying. “Welcome aboard, brother.”

I hate it when he says that.

Then there are two. Tomas and me.

False king and wicked avenger.

“I’ll be off, too,” I say. I’ll make it look that way anyway, before I circle back around and sneak into Fiametta’s window.

“No, wait,” Tomas waves a hand, gesturing I come closer.

Oh my. Maybe I won’t have to circle back after all.

“I know we’ve kicked things off on the wrong foot, but let’s move past it. What do you say?”

I don’t say anything.

“Fine,” Tomas clears his throat. “I want you to find Fiametta and bring her home.”

“Why would I do that?” I raise a brow, before wrapping both my arms behind my back and slowly walking toward his desk.

“Unless you’ve forgotten, we’ve given you a lot of mon—”

“Lorenzo gave me a lot of money,” I cut him off. Details are important, especially in this game of life and death.

“Which he took from—”

“That doesn’t matter. The old king is dead, long live the king.” No justification will make me work for Tomas. I refuse from a moral standpoint, but more than that, I don’t want to give him hope before I do what I must.

I stop in front of him. While trying to remain inconspicuous, I remove a syringe full of my chemical concoction from one of the back pockets of my pants. I flick the lid off with my thumb, and it makes no sound as it hits the carpet floor.

“Listen, fucker,” Tomas smashes his hands into the desk and then launches himself forward, bringing his face so close to mine I can smell his stale, smoke-laden breath. “If you want to be a part of this, you’d better start showing me some respect.”

“Big mistake,” I say, stabbing the needle into his neck.

He doesn’t manage to get another sound out, before he falls headfirst onto the table.

Chapter Twenty-Two

CRUE

“I’ve waited a long time for this, Tommy-boy.”

I am made to wait longer still by his body’s inability to filter my concoction out of his system. Had it been anybody else, we’d have already reached the climax.

“Wah-d-fug.” Slurred sounds of attempted speech drip out of his mouth.

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