Page 53 of Nocturne

Then I hear her laugh, a sound that pierces the damn soundproof walls. For the first time, I don’t mind. Her laugh seeps into my head, pushing the chaos to the edges. Her presence has this strange effect on me, both soothing and irritating, something I can’t allow myself to understand.

A knock at the door. I don’t turn. I don’t have to.

I know it’s Iblis who steps inside, barely hesitating before making his report. But he stops himself for a moment, as though he’s reading the shift in my mood.

I watch as she holds my coat closer, smiling as she drags her fingers over the material. I remember how she felt under me, small yet solid, unlike any of the women who run in my circles. She’s curvy, the kind that makes a man insane, but she’s more than that. The memory of how she felt, how ready and trusting she looked, alone has me nearly crushing my glass in my hand.

“Josephine’s here,” Iblis murmurs.

I don’t even turn.

“Not today.”

Not ever, maybe.

Josephine was my usual, someone I’d call on when I wanted no strings, but tonight, no one’s getting me hard except for the woman dangling her feet as she giggles into her cup. An image strikes me out of nowhere: Ara, on her knees, looking up at me with those wide eyes, her ravishing mouth sucking my dick, taking all of me in.

I push down a growl. No, that image isn’t leaving any time soon.

“Is this because of a certain professor?” Iblis has the nerve to ask, but I don’t answer him.

It’s been his and Eero’s game to rile me up, to get a rise out of me. They’ve never managed it, and I’ll be damned if they do now.

My gaze sharpens on her as she sits there, open and defenceless, not a hint of fear in those doe eyes of hers. Her glasses slipped down her nose, and she didn’t push them back. That’s how Iknow she’s relaxed, like she’s safe here. Like she doesn’t know where she is. She is still high.

She did empty a whole fucking bottle of brandy, after all. She did gain some senses, but not enough. I wish I could’ve left her on the pier, but I couldn’t. And it fucking irks me that I’m not good at controlling the urges to keep her safe whenever she is around.

I had never been a protector, only a killer. But this woman, this damn fucking woman. This feeling is new and it needs to be gone.

Eero gets closer, leaning in towards her with that cocky smile of his, and I feel a flash of something sharp, violent. His hand reaches around her shoulder, and I snap. The glass in my hand shatters. I don’t even notice the blood dripping down my wrist.

I see the light flash on the screen on my other wall and resist the urge to punch something.

Iblis murmurs something about Vessar and Morvain being on call, and I bite down the curse that rises up my throat. Damn them both. Vessar, I can tolerate. He keeps his business out of my city, at least most of the time. But Morvain? Every time he opens his mouth, he’s got something to say that makes me want to pull a gun on him, the same as I did last time. No doubt he’ll try to provoke me again.

I look over to Nico. “Break his hand if he touches her again,” I order.

Nico nods silently, disappearing out the door.

The screen hums to life, and the video chat begins. I sink back in my chair, watching as Vessar’s and Morvain’s faces fill the screen, exactly as unwelcoming as I expected. Vessar looks sharpin his usual suit, nodding with that arrogant calm he loves to pull off. But Morvain? His face is just as smug and punchable as ever.

The Dark Accord binds us all—an alliance forged decades ago to shield us from rising power and the ambitions of others. Charon Vessar's ancestors proposed it, cementing their legacy as the architects of the Accord. Morvain and Vessar are the last to hold their positions by that legacy, while the rest of us have earned our place through blood and fire.

Devlin’s name will join the ranks, and I’ll ensure it. This isn’t just a symbolic gathering of dangerous men—it’s a fortress, a web of power that strengthens all our empires. Together, we’re untouchable. Anyone foolish enough to strike at one of us declares war on all.

“We appreciate you agreeing to the meeting on such short notice,” Vessar starts, his voice dripping with politeness.

I barely acknowledge him. Axel Morvain’s face is set in something close to rage, but for once, that anger’s not directed at me. A nice change of pace, but it barely registers. Whatever’s bothering him, I couldn’t give a fuck—at least not yet.

Iblis steps back behind me. Vessar’s cold, blue-eyed glare shifts to Iblis for a second, an unspoken disapproval flashing across his face before he masks it. The man’s always had a stick up his ass about my having Iblis here in meetings. Apparently, it’s “against protocol.” But Charon can shove protocol up his pompous arse.

My command’s mine to run however I damn well please.

Amon Falkor’s image appears in a separate box at the bottom of the screen. Of the entire accord, he’s the only one I can tolerate. He’s got a way of keeping to himself, only involving only when absolutely necessary. There’s a respect in that—he’s earned hisplace at the table, just like me, by seizing the throne, not by inheritance.

Morvain’s complaints about “self-made men” are empty words. Both Falkor and I have more power that would leave them with losses they cannot rise from. Vessar may not like it, but he knows having us as allies is better than enemies.

“So, what’s so urgent you needed me to drop everything, Vessar?” Amon’s voice cuts through the screen, his tone making it clear he doesn’t appreciate being dragged here, either.

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