Page 14 of Sinner's End

I clench my teeth and keep walking. “I never said you could touch.”

Bowen withdraws his hand, disappointment flitting through his strangely colorless eyes that reflect the night in a pool of liquid diamond starlight. “Pity. We could have had some fun. I do love a good role-play.”

“Not gonna kink shame you, bro. But that’s my date, and I’ll take the real skin over…” I replay the once-over he gave me a moment before, “over something fake.”

Bowen’s nostrils flare at the insult I don’t bother to veil. “Have it your way. Mana is all yours. I’ll watch from above.” He darts away to … somewhere.

I don’t bother to look up. The heavy updraught that slides seductively along my body like a warm breath is unwelcomeenough to leave me wishing I wore my leather jacket on a stiflingly hot night.

“And stay the fuck away,” I mutter for good measure.

So much for the facade of being human.I doubt he can hear me, but I curse anyway, letting my mouth run on as I consider which part of my soul Mana is likely to shred first, or if that’s beyond his reach until after my death. Seeing as it was my mouth that landed me in his employ in the first place, it seems apt.

My path through the town is fast, mostly as I know once daylight hits the structure Mana will be dead to the world and I’ll have to wait until the next evening before I can make good on my promise to Addi. That isn’t happening, because I want her body pressed to mine again too damn bad.

The way she kissed me back, her soft lips parting against the push of my tongue, how she wrapped her hands around my neck and pulled me closer … her ass in my hand—she is a one-hand grip for sure, both sides, and—fuckkkk.

If I don’t stop replaying the feel of her curves pressed to my body, I’ll never be in the right mindset to face Mana. That’s a fight I need to have full control of, because the bastard fights dirty. Real fucking dirty.

****

“He’s not here.” Lethe stands sentry outside his master’s office, his back as rigid as anyone’s I’ve ever seen, and that’s saying something for a kid who was taught by nuns.

“Bullshit.” I raise a hand to knock but an arm made of pure metal, I swear, blocks my path. I raise both my eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

Lethe looks me full in the face. “No one enters, and he’s not here.”

“You’re a real broken record, aren’t you?” I snap, lettingmy irritation eke out on the man in the black leather pants and no shirt. Starry patterns decorate his torso and I narrow my eyes as I study him, until it finally clicks. “Like Bowen,” I murmur softly.

“Who?” Lethe frowns at me.

“Nothing.” I incline my head, but not in a show of obedience.

Something is off about this man apart from his rigid stance. He might have just started working for Mana, but the way he stands like a toy soldier waiting to be wound, it’s like he can’t function without commands. Like he doesn’t know who he is. Or what.

“That’s fair.” Lethe looks straight past me down the hall.

I blink at the revelation. “Have you tried the merchandise?” I raise both eyebrows and give them a waggle. “The drugs,” I add more softly when he remains silent.

Lethe still stares over my head. Looking for … absolution? A sign? Fuck knows.

“Okay. Well, I’ll be off finding the boss. Unless you’ve got any ideas where I can start?” I pivot on my heel, keen to get the fuck away from the silent sentinel who gives off no vibes whatsoever. Like he’s a void. An abyss where energy falls endlessly, never to emerge.

The faster I’m out of this place, the better.

“Try the bell tower. He seemed to like its height.” The soft voice at my back surprises me, but not in the way Lethe might expect.

No, you poor pure, untouched thing. It’s because of the souls who dived from the top. He can hear their fatal cries there best.But I don’t say that, and he doesn’t talk again, or breathe or anything else I can tell as my steps quicken in the direction of the belfry.

Because like a twisted Gothic gargoyle, I know Mana willbe at the very top, staring out at what he can’t have, listening to the music of the suffering shades plummeting and twisting below in their endless torment. A symphony made for a devil.

But I can.

Which makes this next interaction dangerous as fuck. Because not only does my boss—soon-to-be ex-boss—play dirty, he’s a damn sore loser too. And he loses about as often as I lie.

Never.

Not because I choose not to, I literally can’t make a lie fall out of my mouth. It became such a habit as a child that I stopped trying, which means I need to hold to that promise I made Addi or become a liar through omission—and that seems like a fairly shithouse way to start a relationship.

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