by Jade West
“Maybe he told someone.”
He sighed. “I didn’t tell him your name, Lainey. There’s no way he could have told anyone, even if he’d wanted to.”
He had a point. Even though my heart was racing, I knew he had a point.
He squeezed my arm. “I guess it was someone who looked like him. Must’ve been hard to see.”
“Maybe,” I said, but I didn’t believe it. My heart wouldn’t let me.
“Maybe you’re crapping yourself about seeing him again. Maybe that’s what this is. Some crazy freak-out.”
Crazy me, yeah. I wished I believed that, but no. There was no way I was imagining him out of fear. My heart was still thumping as my mind churned. No. There was also no way it was some lookalike. Not with that touch, not with that scent, not with that look in his eyes.
I was still scanning the room with my breath catching in my throat when Blue Hawk let out a goodnight and lifted his arms to the sky.
Tristan grabbed hold of my shoulders as the crowd began to bustle, and I jumped, hard enough that he sighed at me.
“Like I said, maybe you’re crapping yourself.”
I forced myself into some kind of rationality. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
I could hear the relief in his voice. “Good. Like I said, maybe you could go back to Dr. Karlin. Surely, it would have to help now, more than ever.”
My tummy flipped at the thought. No. It wouldn’t help me. Nobody digging into the pits of my soul would help me. It was untouchable. It needed to be untouchable.
Secrets. Scary, dirty secrets.
As usual, I forced a smile and changed the subject.
“Let’s get to your conquest backstage, then. Don’t want to miss out on his dick, do you?”
Tristan rolled his eyes. “His dick isn’t worth watching you fuck yourself up over the biggest asshole on the planet.”
I felt the rage burning up in my ribs. “I wouldn’t. I told you, I won’t go near him!”
He didn’t believe me. I could feel it. I could see it.
“I mean it!” I insisted. “I won’t go near him. I damn well promised you I wouldn’t.”
The crowd bustled around us, people heading to either the bar or the main entrance. Tristan took hold of me again, to stop me getting caught up in the movement.
“Damn well promise me that a damn promise to me isn’t the only thing holding you back from that monster.”
I laughed in his face. “Even you can’t think I’m that insane. Even I can’t believe I’m that insane.”
He seemed to take my assurance as solid enough to laugh back. “Thank fuck for that.”
With that, he grabbed my hand and started making his move towards the door at the side of the stage, and I tried to believe my certainty as much as he had. I mean, I had to be slightly rational, even through the madness of my mind. Because he was right. He had to be right. There was no way Lucian Morelli could possibly be in the place, no way, no chance. Plus, there was no way I could ever want him, not with any part of me. Not ever.
I was forcing my racing heart to slow down, even amongst the pulse of cocaine through my veins. I was telling myself I was a hallucinating idiot, who had imagined a load of bullshit out of nowhere. Maybe just a guy with dark hair and eyes who reminded me of the beast at the ball. I mean, Stephen on stage reminded me of Lucian Morelli, right? Surely there were plenty more guys who would remind me of the monster.
We were almost at the side of the stage when I flashed one final look around the dancefloor, scanning the jostle of bodies one last time before Tristan raised his hand to the security man guarding the back rooms. The guy waved us through and Tristan was tugging me, rattling me on my stilettos as he raced us on our way to Blue Hawk.
And there he was again. The monster, at the far side of the stage, with his monstrous glare fixed on me.
Yes.
Yes.
I knew it.
My soul cried out. My whole body tensed and tingled. Because it was him. It was truly him.
It was Lucian Morelli staring back at me.
“Wait!” I hissed at Tristan. “Please, Tristan! Just fucking wait! He’s right there!”
But no.
It’d been years since Tristan had used the force of his frame against me, looming so tall over mine. He tugged me along with him, and I tried to yank him back, but his motion was too intense, jolting me straight into his chest and along with him through the backstage doorway.
“Enough!” he said, and held me tight. “I mean it, Elaine. Just fucking enough! Stop losing your head over Lucian fucking Morelli, or I’ll have to do something! I’ll have to warn someone, just to make sure you stand a chance of staying the fuck alive!”
His words were enough to stop me in my tracks, and I gulped in one hell of a breath at the thought.
He was scared for me, his arms tense. Petrified for my life, desperate to keep me safe, even if it cost me an ocean of hell all around me.
And he was right.
He was right to be petrified for me. If Lucian Morelli was committed to chasing me down enough to head into a downtown venue he’d normally turn his nose up at, then there was no way I’d make it out of his hunt alive.
I needed cocaine. Cocaine and champagne. At least there was a chance Blue Hawk would have a decent damn bottle of fizz backstage.
I made myself laugh, pasting on as happy a smile as I could manage.
“You’re right,” I told him and made a crazy motion around my head. “Let’s go in and check out your conquest. At least I can gaze at the other Morelli lookalike up close this time.”
Tristan sighed and wrapped his arm around me, then led us to the dressing rooms.
“Gaze at that one as much as you like, just keep your damn head away from the real one.”
9
Lucian
I’d been a ghostly shadow that leapt out to bite her, her eyes open wide as pussy boy tugged her away.
She’d known it was me.
The thrill inside me was magnificent, my mouth watering as I pictured her shock and horror – and something else. I’d felt something else in her stare.
She wanted me.
Just like she had when she was a plaything in my grip at the Constantine ball, she wanted me.
Holy fuck, I despised myself for it, but I wanted her too. I wanted her tight little slit, along with her blood.
I pulled myself together as I headed for the exit, talking some damn fucking sense into myself. I wanted to destroy her. That’s what I wanted. That’s the only thing I wanted.
There were drunken clusters of people outside the bar when I stepped out onto the sidewalk. I wasted no time in hailing a cab, making sure I stepped into the road before the current cab seekers could grab their rides. The driver shot me a stare as I dropped into the back seat, about to tell me I’d jumped the line, before I held up a huge chunk of cash to his face.
“Drive. Now.”
“Yes, sir,” he said and put his foot down on the accelerator before speaking another word.
We were a block away before he asked me the obvious question. “Where are we going?”
I smirked and relaxed against the cheap leather. “Nowhere. Keep driving until I say stop.”
He shrugged against his confusion. “Sure thing.”
I made him drive in circles for a good fifteen minutes before ordering him back to Cyrus Bar’s front entrance. The sidewalk was clear by that point, barely a light glaring out from the building. I knew both Elaine and her pussy boy mate would still be holed up inside, fawning at the idiot performers who were no doubt congratulating themselves after their bullshit show. I didn’t make a move to leave the cab, staying reclined in my seat as the driver spun around to face me.
“Do you want the fare?”
“No,” I barked. “I haven’t finished yet.”
I knew he was feeling awkward as fuck. He should count himself lucky I had other things on my mind than pursuing cheap evil pleasures.
&n
bsp; We were still parked at the sidewalk with no cab lights on when the front entrance finally swung open almost an hour later. There she was, stumbling, almost taking a fall before pussy boy grabbed hold of her and held her tight. She was swaying and gesturing him away, and I smiled to myself inside.
Silly little girl.
The Blue Hawk guy came out after them, and her friend was practically drooling in adoration.
I knew pussy boy had somewhere he wanted to be going, and it sure as fuck didn’t involve Elaine Constantine screwing his chances of getting dick that night.
Sure enough, she pulled away from him, shrugging as she stumbled and pointed at an approaching cab down the street. He called her back to him, gesturing, but she waved him away, clearly insisting she’d be fine as the cab pulled up next to her.
Pussy boy stared, torn. His singer cock-buddy was determined to pull him along in his direction, just as much as Elaine was determined to leave.
Her good friend Tristan hovered. Stalled. And then he gave in to them.
He held up a hand, signalling he’d call her, before heading down the street after a promise of dick, leaving Elaine alone with just a cab to protect her. Yeah, I knew it. There was no damn way the Constantines would have ever let her head downtown, let alone with no damn security cover.
“Follow them,” I grunted at the driver, and again, he spun in his seat to face me.
“The cab?”
“Yes,” I hissed. “The fucking cab.”
We stayed close behind her, and I strained to watch her silhouette in the rear window. I could barely see her, but my mouth was watering at the thought that she was almost in my grasp, just a few short breaths away.
She could have easily been headed to the Constantine compound, and if that were the case I’d have ordered my driver to overtake them on the long straight before Bishop’s Landing, just to get my hands on her. But no. She wasn’t heading to the Constantine compound. She wasn’t heading to anywhere uptown, in fact, let alone anywhere in the billionaire district.
My interest was piqued as she headed for one of the dregs, her cab rolling through blocks of cheap apartments before finally pulling up at the sidewalk amongst some rancid, mediocre housing blocks.
For a moment, I had a flash of rage that maybe I’d read her journey wrong, and that by some bullshit fuck up I’d been following a random fool to the wrong part of town. But no. It was the same blonde beauty that swung her unsteady legs out of the cab ahead of us, teetering her way towards the block entrance.
I checked out the sign. Gaol Street. What an utter shithole.
“Here,” I told my driver and threw him a handful of notes before bailing out of there. He sure as fuck didn’t hang around for me to answer any questions, just raced away with a screech of tires along with the rumble of Elaine’s ride.
I was lucky she was a clumsy mess as she fished in her clutch for some keys under a flickering orange light. I was close enough to hear her curse as she dropped them to the floor and struggled to feel around on the concrete to find them.
“Well, well, well,” I said. “I never expected to find you here.”
She lurched back to her feet without the keys in her hand, then backed away towards the door.
“What the fuck? It can’t be . . . It can’t be . . .”
I gave her a smirk as I pulled the fake glasses from my face. “Oh yes, darling. It most certainly can be.”
Even in her fear, I saw the rage burning on her cheeks.
“I said it was you. I told Tristan it was you, and he wouldn’t believe me! Told me I was a crazy bitch for thinking you’d lower yourself to check out such a weird little club downtown!” I hated how she smirked right back at me as she paused. “Hmm, I guess we can both say we didn’t expect to find each other in such a loser part of town, then, can’t we?”
I laughed a malicious little laugh at her. “Believe me, Elaine, I don’t enjoy such a loser part of town. It stinks like liquid shit.”
I despised her childishness when she laughed right back at me. “Yeah, well, so do you. You’re a loser who belongs in loser hell, Lucian Morelli. Eat shit and die.”
“Watch your mouth,” I told her with a sneer.
Once again, I couldn’t take my gaze from the beautiful siren’s eyes. Interesting didn’t cut it. Not for a second. Not about her.
I felt my gut churning, my mind trying to untangle the knots of her and fathom just what the fuck the girl was made up of.
She was a whirlpool of chaos, flashing colors melding as one. A mess of them, splashing and clashing, so consumed by their own momentum that I didn’t stand a chance of understanding the taste.
She was a mass of confusion, and rage. Rage and want. Rage and fascination. Rage and shock. Rage and lust. Rage and being so fucking butchered by her own bullshit addictions that she was a cesspit of risk, waiting for anyone around her to step up and take what they wanted from her.
Money. Or blood. Or pussy.
Somehow, it was the thought of people taking her pussy that made me grit my teeth.
My words were quiet and cold. “Your disgusting excuse for a family would destroy you for being such an obvious reprobate. All they’d need to know is that you’re here.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” she hissed. “After all, you’re supposed to be some kind of genius IQ business freak, aren’t you?”
“Amongst other things,” I said, and stepped closer.
She pressed into the wall, flinching as another sweep of fear flashed through her eyes. I reached down and picked up her keys, jangling them in my fingers.
She was quiet as I carried on speaking. Silent as her whirlpool kept on spinning.
“Amongst other things like the fact I’m a sadist who pushes so fucking hard that people never come back from the pain. Amongst the fact that my family owes yours so much torment that none of you would make it through alive. Every scrap of your heritage would be burned to hell with every living breath of ours.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she butted in. “I know, I know. We hate you, you hate us. La la la. Like I give a fuck about anything anymore.”
I took another step closer, and this time she didn’t flinch. Didn’t even drop her stare.
The whirlwind was speeding up inside her, sure as fuck not slowing down.
I could taste her as I closed the distance, my mouth watering at the orchids and plums.
“You’ll give a damn fuck when you’re the very next Constantine I punish,” I told her, but again, the whirlwind inside her kept on spinning.
I could feel it pulsing from her. Fear. Rage. Hate. Confusion.
But more.
I could feel so much more.
She took a breath and slumped her shoulders, casting a glance up at the shitty night sky.
“What makes you think I’d give a damn about anything?” she asked me. “Just get on with it, or get the fuck away from me, will you?”
10
Elaine
I really was done with it. I was done with caring. Done with feeling. Done with living.
Maybe Lucian Morelli would be the monster that liberated me from this crappy existence of mine.
To the outside world I had it all, but my inside world was a pit of pain. A pit of pain I’d been breathing through in agonizing little gasps since I was a little girl trying to be good for Reverend Lynch and his sick associates. Fucked up, and used, and twisted. Hurt by so much of the life I’d held dear.
Yeah, I was done.
Seeing Tristan gazing so adoringly at Blue Hawk that night, and knowing Blue Hawk’s dick was coming to him, had only compounded the obvious inside me.
I’d never feel like that about anyone, even if I was allowed to.
My family had already destroyed that for me.
Shh, more secrets. More secrets.
More drink and more cocaine. Drown it out. Drown it out.
I let out a sigh and slumped against the wall. No one would stand a chance of knowing Lucian Morelli
had broken me down in this part of town. Not unless he wanted to gloat about it. I was his to do as he wanted with. He’d barely have to let me send out a scream before he silenced me forever.
“Go on,” I pushed. “Do it, or go. I’m done with your crap.”
I felt the heat from him as he stepped even closer, his breaths, warm on my face, his eyes boring down into mine.
“Tell me how you would like to meet your demise,” he said, “Nice and slow, or over before you can blink?”
His tone made me shudder. I tried to hide my terror when I replied.
“Please, just make it a quick one. I’m bored of this already.”
I was lying, as usual. I wasn’t getting bored already. Even through my abject fear, there was a strange calmness soothing me deep underneath at the thought of giving myself up as done, and more . . . there was still a tingle of more I couldn’t shake. That want. That need.
I knew the need I was feeling. The need I’d felt with his hands on me in the bathroom at Tinsley’s ball. The need I’d felt rippling through me at the first glimpse of him in Cyrus Bar.
Fuck, I hated that need.
Lucian Morelli was a monster in an angelic body . . . and I was craving that angel’s touch.
“Do it,” I whispered. “Please, just do it. Kill me.”
He slammed his palm against the wall above my head, and I flinched.
“I’ll do what the fuck I want, whenever I want to fucking do it,” he said, and there was something new in his voice. A low growl I hadn’t heard before.
He jangled the keys in his hand, holding them up to the entrance light. Jemma’s keyring was on there, a leather fob with the number seven printed on it.
Number seven, lucky for some.
Not for me, it seemed.
I guess Lucian Morelli read something in me I didn’t want to admit to reading in myself. He didn’t bother wrestling me alongside him when he stepped up to the door and slipped the key into the lock, just left me there, staring after him.
Part of me begged me to run and at least give it a shot at escaping, but no. I found myself locked in position by nothing but my own mind, my arms wrapped tight around my chest.
