Page 25 of Dark Souls

“Wouldn’t I? Just having you breathe the same air as me has me contemplating a year at the Devil’s mercy just to make you bleed.” I flashed him a toothy grin, my razor-sharp fangs on full display. He straightened his suit jacket and frowned deeply at my threat. For a moment, silence hung heavy between us, the tension crackling in the air like static electricity. The fae woman’s intrigued gaze darted between the two of us, clearly enjoying the possibility of a fight to brighten her evening. “And thanks for the compliment. But I don’t swing both ways.”

“Fuck off, Dealer. Or I might have to finish what my uncle started right here, right now.” His own fangs snapped down, and his blue eyes blazed to red.

I laughed darkly without feeling an ounce of joy behind the sound. A part of me wanted him to try. Just for entertainment value. As much as I craved to unleash my wrath on this low-life asshole, when I moved my attention to the woman he’d picked to spend his night with, a sly smile curved my lips and a glimmer of triumph flickered in my eyes instead. There were always other ways to piss him off.

My gaze drifted down her body with intensity and back to her face, meeting her yellow eyes as a small flirtatious smile played on her lips. She squirmed in her heels under my attention, wriggling out from under his arm as she bit into her lower lip and her eyes hooded with desire. I cocked my head to the side with a devilish smirk, downed my vodka and stood straight, allowing her to take in my full height. Relishing in the irritation radiating from Wesley at his fuck for the night being completely spellbound by my dark allure, I placed my glass down on the bar and nodded at the bartender to get her a free drink.

“To help you enjoy your evening, love. He might be less boring if you’re drunk.” I handed her the glass of champagne before nodding with fake politeness at Wesley and striding away from them. I’d done my rounds, showed my face, and reminded the members what would happen if they broke the rules, so I was more than ready to retreat to the back room until the night was over.

Entering the small warehouse at the back of the cellar, I groaned as I flopped down on the grubby sofa and lifted a hand to rub my chest, pressing hard to feel the slow beats of my blackened heart. Nowadays, it was the only sign that somewhere deep inside me there was still a heart at all, even if it was only for the function of keeping me alive.

I smelt her overpowering perfume before the hesitant knock came on the door and I closed my eyes, annoyed at the intrusion before it had even happened. But of course, I’d expected this. I knew I gave off an aura of being fucked up that seemed to appeal to the women who orbited my world. My scarred face, tattooed-covered body and multiple piercings only amplified the bad boy image.

I knew she’d come the moment I gave her even an ounce of my attention. I’d learned over the years that most women ofThe Undergroundwere of a certain breed. As predictable as the fucking sunrise. They would always seek out the richest or most dangerous members and vie for their attention, playing their own games of deceit. The men may have been under the illusion that they were using them for what they offered but it was always the other way round. The women were the true masterminds; gaining power in knowledge and often being the most ruthless manipulators at these events, walking away with far more than they arrived with.

I contemplated telling her to fuck off back to Wesley but the petty asshole in me made a grunting noise of acknowledgement instead. The door opened and she shimmied her body in, shutting it quietly behind her. I didn’t bother getting up from the sofa. Instead, I placed one arm behind my head in a makeshift pillow and stared at her with nonchalance.

“The alcohol didn’t help. He was still boring me,” she admitted in a sultry drawl, licking her lips as her eyes ran over the length of my toned body. “And I thought I might have some more fun here. With you.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “If you’re looking for fun, you are in the wrong place. You’ll only find pain here.”

“Pain… and maybe a little pleasure?” She husked, her yellow eyes sparkling with arousal as she approached tentatively. She stopped beside the sofa, her expression flickering with sudden uncertainty at being so close to me. I grabbed her wrist, yanking her down onto her knees with blunt force and she yelped, fear sparking in her eyes. Good. She should know what she’s getting into if she wants this.

I shifted on the sofa until my legs were on either side of her body and narrowed my eyes, daring her to make her move or leave. She leaned up on her knees, her hands approaching my chest to touch me and my body stiffened on instinct. I grabbed both of her wrists in my hands aggressively, causing her to pause.

“Fucking touch me without my permission and it will be the last thing you do,” I growled, before releasing her hands and relaxing back. “Now, open my jeans and get my cock out, if that’s what you’re here for.”

She swallowed nervously, the confidence she had when she walked into the room wavering, which disappointed me to no end. They were all the same. They like the idea of fucking me. Of taking a ride on the dark side just to see if they’d survive it. But when faced with reality, no matter how much they tried to hide it, the fear always showed.

“Is-is it true what they say?” she asked as her fingers fumbled with the top of my jeans and lowered the zip. When I didn’t respond, she looked up at me from under her lashes. She would need to be a hell of a lot more specific than that. People say a lot of shit about me. “That years ago, you turned your humanity off? That you no longer have any humanity at all?”

My jaw ticked as I took a deep breath and clicked my neck to the side. And there it was. The appeal. To fuck the vampire, who was completely unhinged. Who had turned off his morals, his emotions, everything that made him feel fucking alive, just so he didn’t have to feel at all.

“What does it feel like to feel nothing?”

What a dumb fucking question.

She waited for my answer as her hand found my semi-hard cock, releasing it from my boxers and then gasping at the size and metal piercings.

“Shut the fuck up or get out,” I said in a low, indifferent tone that instantly made her body tense. Her eyes widened in panic, realising she nearly screwed up her chances. In answer, she wrapped her lips around my cock and I dropped my head back to peer up at the ceiling. I tried to focus on the sensation of her hot mouth working me but all I felt was numbness. My body reacted, my cock growing harder when she took me to the back of her throat, but my body and my brain were in disconnect. That’s the way it always was. I felt no pleasure. No relief. No gratification. Only rage. Constant aching rage.

I wrapped my hand around her sleek ponytail, twisting it in knots around my wrist and forced her head down further, fucking her mouth hard, deep and without mercy. I felt her gag and panic, unable to breathe as her hand slapped against my thigh in protest. She couldn’t handle me or my darkness. Not in the slightest. Using her hair, I yanked her head back, removing me from her mouth completely and dived forward, my fangs sinking into her throat so fast it caused her to scream from the pain and shock. It was a bastard thing to do, but then again, I did warn her. I took a few large mouthfuls of her fae blood before ripping away from her and releasing her hair from my grip.

She slammed her hand over her bite mark, blood pouring down her collarbone as she stumbled away from me with horror written all over her face.

“Dead,” I said, answering her question from before. “I feel fucking dead.”

She grabbed her bag from the floor and raced out of the door, escaping the glimpse of the monster she’d just met. I wiped my mouth, retracted my fangs and shoved my dick back in my jeans.

Lifting the laptop that was on the floor, I placed it on my lap and opened it up to the CCTV footage of the club the other night. I’d lost count of how many times I had watched this footage now, yet every time I did, I felt the smallest flicker of something from deep within my dark soul. Hitting play, I was once again captivated by her beauty and allure, just as I had been the first time I saw her in the video. I bet she commanded every man’s attention in any room she walked in with her smooth, creamy skin, stunning eyes and striking features. She was undoubtedly the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Dressed head to toe in black, her clothes hugged her perfect figure like a second skin and those leather trousers… they did something to me. I’d always been a sucker for leather on a woman.

I paused the footage just to study her longer, capturing the essence of her beauty in my mind. I watched once more as the mysterious vampire princess marched up to the bouncers with a human on some leash behind her and demanded to be let intoThe Undergroundwithout a membership. She was feisty. A real spitfire. Nothing like what I expected the royal princess to be like. She was turned away and then, in a rage, shoved the human against the wall and started drinking from him. The sight made me hard again. Harder than that fae just made me even with her mouth wrapped around my dick. But I also knew what was coming and that strange, unsettling feeling I couldn’t pinpoint pulsed through my veins. She disappeared into a private room with the human and then a few minutes later, a blonde-haired man followed them in. The most concerning part was that only the blonde-haired man returned. He was later seen stalking through the club with her file in his hands and entering The Underground. I knew, without a doubt, it was Heath in a human disguise. What the fuck happened to her? I knew the human was dead. His name showed up on a newspaper report this morning, found dead in a carpark stairwell. Tragic accident. Yeah, fucking right. That had Heathen written all over it. So, what of the girl?

If he’d fucking touched her…

The protectiveness took me by surprise. The only feeling I knew, relentless fury, burned within me. I didn’t trust Heathen. He was even more of a psychopath than me, which is why I didn’t like this one bit. But why? Why did the thought of her being harmed cause me anger? Was it just because she was a royal and any attention from them would be bad fucking news or was it something else?

Unable to stop myself, I searched her name and her social media appeared as the only link. Clicking on it took me to a profile picture of the back of her, her long white hair cascading down her bare back. She appeared to be topless, standing in a forest, only her back and bare shoulders visible with her face turned completely away from the camera. The filter was grey scale and moody. In fact, the entire mood of her profile as I scrolled down was dark and edgy. A message on her wall, left only today, grabbed my attention. A girl named Lacey.

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