Page 36 of Made in Malice

“Anything,” he snaps. “Their money spends just the same as everyone else’s, so I allow them in the bar, but I’m not going to have a problem here, got it?”

“Got it,” I reply, still meeting his now cold stare. Good to know I’m on thin ice. I won’t be putting too much faith in keeping my job here, especially when news gets out that this is where I work. I bet Morningstar would love to see me get fired.

I wonder just how far I would need to go to make sure his influence wouldn’t be felt.

LUCIAN

The club is packed, making it feel like the middle of summer instead of winter. Sweaty bodies fill the dance floor, but my mind isn’t here, it’s back on the island where the little Umbra is probably tucked sweetly into her soft sheets.

I adjust my position in the booth, draping my arm over the black leather, knowing I would much rather be sneaking into her room where I could straddle her waist and use one hand to cover her mouth to stifle her scream, and the other to…

“Hello.” A sultry voice pulls me from my musings.

Her pouty mouth is painted blood red as she toys with one of the curls hanging over her tits, making sure to draw my attention there. She has dark hair and brown eyes, so she’s not a match for the girl I want to use.

I don’t speak to her, but that’s nothing new. I seldom give any of these sheep my consideration.

“May I sit?” she asks, already curving her body with her ass angled toward me to slip into the booth beside me.

I make eye contact with one of my men, and he immediately puts his hand on her shoulder, stopping her from getting closer.

“You need an invitation to sit with Morningstar,” he tells her, and she slides her hungry gaze back to mine.

“What do I need to do to get invited?”

“Open your mouth,” I say, feeling bored, but the distraction is helping with the ache in my cock caused by someone I can’t stand who’s miles away.

The girl tips her chin down a little, making sure to keep her gaze locked on mine, then opens her mouth as if she’s already thinking about swallowing me.

“Wider,” I tell her. There’s an edge to my tone, so she probably thinks she’s turning me on. She couldn’t be more wrong. “Now bleat.”

With her mouth still agape, she shifts her face so she can see me better.

“Are you deaf?”

She finally closes her mouth to ask, “Bleed?” then glances around as if she’s looking for something. Probably a knife. Would she really go that far? I don’t even know why I’m asking. She would, and so would countless others just because I told them to do it. She disgusts me. It’s like I can feel her nasty fingers gouging into me to see what pieces she wants to keep.

“I said bleat, you fucking idiot. Get her out of here.”

“Wait—” She tries to fight the man pulling her away, but it’s useless, just like she is.

“Don’t let anyone else near the table,” I tell the others before downing the rest of my drink. I’m smart enough to know I’m dangerous tonight, not only to them, but to myself. I wish Nox would have come with me, but he’s been fucked in the head for weeks, and I can’t seem to pull him out of it this time.

Maybe I’ll find my oblivion at the bottom if this bottle or the next.

NOVA

As I approach the bridge to get back on the island after my shift, I notice a few cars lined up in front of the small building that resembles a guard shed. I get in line, wondering what the holdup is. I’ve never even seen the barrier down, but it is now.

The first car gets turned away, along with the second. The third doesn’t even try pulling up to the window, it just follows the two cars in front of it and makes a U-turn to get back to the mainland road.

The revving of an engine can be heard for several seconds before I spot the car responsible for all the noise. The red bar starts to rise, but an attendant steps into the path, blocking the other cars ahead of me from entering the bridge while it’s up.

A black car speeds past me, not even slowing when it makes the turn into the wrong lane of traffic on the bridge and narrowly avoids the man standing in place of the barricade. The guard’s hair whips back from his face, and he sways a little as if he’s caught in the drag of the car, but in the next second, his eyes pop open, he strolls back to the shed, and the bar drops back into place.

All the cars ahead of me file out of line pretty quickly, and within just a few seconds, I’m looking out my rolled down passenger side window to speak with the same man who was almost just ran over.

“It’s a private island, ma’am. No public invite tonight,” he says without even really looking at me.

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