Chaos Unlocked

by Lana Kole

  His companions shot a sharp look in his direction, but he just shrugged. Served the bastard right.

  And it felt too damned good. Just that little bit of release had his endorphins buzzing, and Misery ground his teeth together as the urges grew.

  Shit, they weren’t even in the club yet.

  This could go very, very wrong. But he’d suffer through it for his brothers, to get them back where they belonged.

  Together.

  He’d just have to keep his shit tight so he didn’t release his power on the most popular nightclub in Maleston.

  No biggie.

  Sweat trailed down the back of his neck and he brushed a hand through the back of his hair to wipe it away.

  No. Fucking. Biggie.

  Finally at the nightclub, they got in line and waited with the rest of the club goers, which was bullshit if you asked him. Too bad they couldn’t just run up front and tell them they were trying to save their sorry human asses from chaos.

  Yeah, you’re welcome, buddy.

  “You okay?” Daria asked. Her hand brushed over his arm and he sucked in a breath at the contact.

  He had to be actively seeking to unleash his power for it to affect the people around him, but even Daria was immune the night before. It was a treasure that she was able to brush his skin just then and not drop to the ground writhing.

  I mean, sure, I want her writhing, but for an entirely different reason.

  “Yeah, I’m good. I just hope this doesn’t take long.”

  Truth clapped him on the back so hard his teeth rattled together. “Loosen up, brother. It’s been what? A couple thousand years since we last partied?”

  The group of bros in front of them turned to arch a brow, but they ignored the curious glances as Daria shuffled between them.

  “Try to be a little less obvious, hmm, Truth?”

  “Did you forget who you’re talking to?” he drawled, tossing an arm over Daria’s shoulders.

  Misery bristled at the ease with which Truth just… touched people. Freely. Misery couldn’t do that, and it made him crave intimacy with another person almost as badly as he wanted to charge at the officers coming down the street just so they’d shoot his crazy ass.

  He wasn’t a pussy, he’d admit it. Last night was fucking awesome, and all he’d done was sleep with his arms wrapped around another person. That hadn’t happened in… well, fuck if he could remember.

  Between the release he’d gotten unleashing his misery on those assassins and that Andrew dickhead, and the immunity that Daria seemed to have, he’d been able to touch her just as freely as Truth was now.

  He’d basically been a fucking dog in her arms on the way home, with the way she’d scratched his scalp and played with his hair.

  Fuck if he didn’t want that again.

  It didn’t help that she looked absolutely amazing tonight, with her tiny black dress and long hair. She was wearing fucking combat boots for fuck’s sake.

  It was sexy as hell.

  The line moved forward, and Misery tore himself from his thoughts to catch the sneers from the lumps in front of them. Their khaki shorts and polos made them look like the poster children for some esteemed college, whereas Misery looked like a punk in his black attire.

  That’s the way he fucking wanted it. He dressed on the outside the way he felt on the inside.

  If that was the case, did that mean these assholes felt like preppy little dick pickles?

  Misery never understood the stigma with guys in skinny jeans, black clothes, or tattoos. He bet if you put him and one of those prissy boys in a tattoo shop, he sure as hell wouldn’t be the first who cried at the touch of a needle.

  Not that he’d know. He’d never been flesh enough to get a tattoo, but he’d made sure to soak up every molecule of pain when Daria’s mom got one. It was fucking euphoric.

  Yet he was looked down on as weak, not the prick in pale shorts and a yellow polo.

  Humans were idiots.

  The bouncer waved through the group in front of them before he turned to them. His lip curled and with a deep rumble, demanded their IDs.

  Well, there goes that plan.

  Daria stiffened in panic, or nerves, or something, probably scared out of her mind of getting thrown out, when the bouncer’s walkie-talkie went off with a scratch of static. He pressed a finger to his ear and the static disappeared, probably to lower the frequency in the earpiece he wore, to better understand what was being said. His expression went through several phases of shock and worry before he cast them a side-glance and frowned.

  “Oh shit, Jim are you serious? No, stay cool, I’ll be right there to help you deal with that fuckwad of a chaotic mess.”

  Whatever had happened was serious enough for this guy to leave his post, and with a stern glare at the line, he disappeared around the side of the building.

  Misery arched an eyebrow at Truth before he reached forward to push the metal bar and slam the door open.

  “Wait, my ass,” he commented, but the sound got sucked away into the pounding bass music thumping in the club.

  “What’s the plan?” Daria yelled as they rushed inside before the bouncer returned.

  “Death had to be at least on the property to bring on that guy’s death. Just keep an eye out for him.”

  Truth and Misery had described all the guys in striking detail on their way here. In the rush of things, they’d forgotten that Daria had been kind of dead when they’d been introduced into the world again.

  “You two stay together, and I’ll split off. If you don’t have any luck in the next two hours, meet by the bar!” Truth yelled.

  When he eased into the crowd, Daria and Misery were left alone and she turned blue, pleading eyes up to him. “Are you gonna be okay in here?”

  He knew she was worried, but her doubt rankled at him and his voice came out harsher than intended. “I’ll be damned fine.”

  Her eyes flashed away and she squeezed his arm again before they melted into the crowd. For Dora’s sake, he wasn’t a fucking child and he didn’t need to be babysat like one. He could handle a few humans.

  But as a scantily dressed female brushed past him, his misery threatening to leach onto her like dark tendrils, he gulped.

  I sure fucking hope so, anyway.

  He kept tight to Daria’s back, glaring down any assholes that thought they were worthy of dancing with her. When he brushed off the third guy in as many minutes, he pulled Daria close and pointed upstairs. There was a balcony full of more dancing, drunk idiots, but at least they’d be able to see the floor more clearly. As it was now, there were too many grinding bodies to see around them.

  With a new destination in mind, they wove their way through the bodies crammed in like sardines, and Misery winced every time he brushed another person. It was torture to keep all of himself locked inside. It boiled just below the surface, threatening to bubble over and leak into the humans around them, but Misery fought the urge with every part of his being.

  This wasn’t about him. It was about rescuing their brothers and ending the chaopadós. About protecting Daria and making sure they never came after her again.

  But holy fuck, he knew how good it would feel. How liberating, relaxing, and euphoric.

  Before he even knew what he was doing, he grabbed Daria’s hand to steady himself as they climbed the stairs to the second level. Concern pinched the lines of her face as she turned back to look at him, but he just nodded at her. A smile would’ve looked too fake.

  It was only slightly less crowded up top, but everyone was determined to stay in their place, making it almost impossible to squeeze through.

  Daria huffed and squeezed his hand before turning to him. “We’re never gonna force our way through, so we’re just gonna have to blend in until we can make our way to the balcony.”

  “How do you suggest we do that?” Misery wasn’t blind, he looked out of sorts in the crowded, hyper sea of people swarming around them in barely-there clothing.
In his black ripped jeans, t-shirt, and boots, he knew he stood out. Blending in wasn’t really an op—

  “Dance with me,” Daria urged, and tugged at his hand until he stumbled closer.

  Barely stopping himself from scoffing, he arched a brow at her. “Do I look like I dance, Daria?”

  Her lips quirked as she flicked her gaze over his body, almost too quick for him to catch it. He could have sworn her cheeks pinked, but maybe it was the flash of the colored strobe lights. “No, but you’re about to.”

  Daria picked up on the beat of the song quickly, while Misery stood there awkwardly for a moment. I really, really don’t dance, he thought to himself. But as Daria moved her hips from side to side as she flicked her hands in the air to the thump of the bass, he damn well thought it was time to learn. Already, she was making progress through the crowd, working with the grinding bodies instead of against them, while he followed after her like a weird stalker. He couldn’t help himself as he drifted after her. Her rose pink lips were curled in a teasing grin as she swayed back and forth with the crowd, her hands twisting and playing in the air, beckoning to him amongst the flashing lights and the humans crowded around them.

  The last straw was a college kid butting in, coming between him and Daria. With a growl, Misery shoved him out of the way and ate up the distance between them in a moment, the sobs of agony from his touch music to his ears as the human suffered for his mistake.

  Curling his fingers around Daria’s waist, he leaned in and matched the sway of her hips, trying to ignore how perfectly she fit against him. Her tiny black dress was nothing, and it was hard to concentrate on anything when only the scant piece of fabric separated their flesh. Tugging him even closer, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and Misery stumbled into the heat of her body. It seemed to be a million degrees in the club, yet he was violently aware of the press of their skin where it touched, and the pressure of their bodies where they couldn’t.

  Everything around them seemed to fade away, the beat of the music taking a backseat to the drum of her pulse that his eyes locked on. Then his gaze strayed to the curve of her jaw, her long dark waves of hair, back to her lips.

  Shit, focus.

  Trying to shake himself from the trance he was in, he tugged his stare up to her blue eyes, found them half-mast, her gaze tilted down and aimed on his own lips. The press of the crowd pushed them closer together, or maybe that was Misery’s fault, his fingers gripping her waist and pulling her closer as their hips moved together. They fit like fucking puzzle pieces, his thigh sliding between hers until he was certain she could feel the erection he sported under his jeans. Her gaze snapped to his, eyes wide, and Misery’s throat went dry, his voice leaving him as if he had anything to say anyway. His thoughts dispersed like the artificial fog surrounding them until it was just him and Daria. Tunnel vision, and she was the light at the end, the brightness, the—he had to kiss her.

  Everything seemed to slow down as he crossed those last few inches, or maybe it was even her, and they paused just—there. Breathing into each other as their gazes clashed so close he almost went cross-eyed. Then her lids lowered and he pressed his lips to hers and he swore he saw the gods-damned sun.

  Her lips were as soft as they looked, as sweet as they seemed. Their lips touched once in a chaste kiss before he dipped in for another, then one more, and she opened her mouth to him on the third.

  But something pressed into his side, hard and unforgiving and he broke away reluctantly realizing they’d made it to the banister. Now they overlooked the entire club from the new vantage point, but Misery would give anything to turn back time about five seconds and live in that pocket of time for all eternity.

  Her cheeks flushed red when she turned back to meet his gaze. Untangling herself from him, she pressed both hands to the railing and looked out. “Maybe from up here we’ll be able to find Death. Look! There’s Truth!”

  Following her pointed finger, he saw that sure enough, Truth was situated by the DJ booth. Glaring daggers at him from across the fucking club as if the hundreds of people separating them didn’t exist. So Daria wouldn’t see, Misery scratched the back of his head and then lifted his middle finger, a smile threatening to curl his lips as he watched Truth’s quirk up in the corner as he shook his head.

  They studied the lower floor for who knows how long, elbowing people away as they tried to take their spot. The breeze out in the open air was nice, wiping away the press of bodies Misery still remembered. All but one.

  This one he doubted he’d ever forget.

  DARIA

  For the hundredth time that night, Daria resisted the urge to touch her fingers to her lips, not believing that she’d actually kissed Misery. Or he’d kissed her—whatever.

  It’d happened, and Daria didn’t know what to do with herself. She supposed the safest thing to do would be to pretend it never happened, when all she craved was to pull him to her again. He was so… so much softer than she’d expected. So gentle, as if he… cherished her. Which was crazy, right? Considering they’d only known each other for a few days.

  Focus, Daria. Look for Death.

  Right. The other demon they were on the hunt for. Technically there were three, but Death seemed the most likely one to appear, considering he’d been here just the night before. Daria hoped they found them, and soon. She worried what lengths the cult would go to in order to bend her demons to their will. Death already seemed like he’d caved once. What had they done to make him obey?

  Or worse, had he wanted to do it?

  Daria didn’t know how she felt about that.

  What if when they found them, she couldn’t convince them to come with her? She’d already failed her matriarchal bloodline. A centuries-spanned curse that protected humanity, one she’d fucked up in a matter of days. She didn’t know what she’d do if they wanted to wreak havoc on mankind.

  I’m sure as shit no match for them.

  Hell, she’d been registered useless from a simple kiss.

  Not that that’s applicable right now, anyway.

  Pushing the thoughts aside, she focused on searching the crowd for anyone who might match the descriptions the guys had given her. Song after song played, and she pointed out several men, only for Misery to shake his head and tell her to try again. Hours passed, until her feet hurt and her head ached from the pounding bass in the club, but at least the new ache distracted her from the vacancy in her mind.

  Eventually her bladder got in the way, and she and Misery gave up their balcony spot after a confirming nod from Truth.

  On the ground floor, Daria and Misery met Truth by the bar, and she excused herself to the bathrooms, seeing the hallway mostly empty of club goers. It was late in the night, the city winding down, so Daria was in and out relatively quickly.

  Disappointment rode her hard, she’d been looking so forward to finding at least one of the guys. Instead, they were back at square one. Daria guessed tomorrow morning they’d just turn on the news and see where the next attack was, if there even was one. Maybe they could nail down a pattern, guess where they were—Daria stumbled back as she bumped into something—someone.

  They reached out to steady her, a shock of electricity zapping through her veins at the contact. Jerking her head up, and up some more, she found a mammoth of a male before her. Dark hair, dark eyes, beard covering half his face.

  “S-sorry. Wasn’t watching where I was going,” she stuttered, taken aback by the fierce man before her.

  “S’okay darlin’. Be careful around here,” he cautioned, and his voice rumbled out on a sound not unlike the thunder that plagued the city from the lightning storms they’d been having of late.

  “I’ll do that,” she murmured, still staring. It’s not nice to stare, but she couldn’t help herself.

  “You here alone?” he asked, a glint in his eyes she just couldn’t get a read on.

  “No, my friends are waiting on me.”

  “Well, you better get back. Wouldn’t want an
ything to happen to you back here all by yourself.”

  Daria wasn’t sure whether to take the words as a warning or a promise. She wasn’t sure which one she wanted it to be. A long sleeve shirt covered his arms and torso, but hints of a tattoo covered his neck, and the shirt did nothing to hide the pure muscle underneath the fabric.

  In other words, this guy was sex on legs. Legs stuffed into black jeans and strapped into big black boots. She smirked, thinking he’d probably get along with Misery.

  Misery. Who she’d just kissed. And now she was checking out and lusting over a complete stranger. She jerked herself back. “Well… thanks for the warning.”

  He flipped a coin in his hand, glanced down at it, and nodded, a look of relief crossing his face before he hid it.

  “A warning? Sure, let’s go with that.” It was then she realized his other hand was still banded around her wrist, stroking a pattern into her flesh and lulling her into a daze.

  Jerking her hand back, she cradled it to her chest and seemed to snap out of whatever hold he’d had over her. “Have a good night,” she muttered, and skittered around him before practically running back down the hallway.

  It wasn’t until she spotted Truth and Misery that she came to a stop as a dawning horror crested over her.

  Tall. Dark hair and beard. Tattoos. Big guy.

  Jerking into gear, she tugged on Misery and Truth’s arms and pulled them down the hallway with her. “I think I found Betrayal!” And that was all the heads up they needed. They gunned after her as she dashed down the empty hallway, their excitement pouring into her. Truth slammed into the men’s restroom, coming out a moment later with a shake of his head.

  “Maybe he went out to the alley? Shit, what if he was leaving? Dammit, I’m so stupid!” Daria cursed herself as she slammed her palms into the push bar, rushing out into the alley without thinking.