PHOENIX (Revelations Book 1), page 1
Copyright ©2023 by N. Slater
Phoenix: Book One of The Revelations Series
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book has only been authorized to be published in full on Amazon in paperback and Kindle by N. Slater or their publishing company, Slateresque Infinities. Should this be found in its entirety on any other site in any other form (other than amazon.com), it is a pirated copy.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblances to actual events, locales, events, businesses, or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
I kind of wanted to dedicate this to the entire world—to those who didn’t believe in me, to those who did, and to those who are ABSOLUTELY not allowed to this piece of fiction regardless of what happens.
However, there are a few beautiful people I’d like to mention:
My Lollipop, triple dipped in psycho ~ I will always be your Cupcake. These twisted men are the ones that brought us together nearly three years ago and I’m not sure what life would be like without you.
My Onyx, my sister, and one of my best friends. You are everything. Don’t let anyone tell you different. You lighten up everyone’s world even if it’s with snark and sass.
To all my friends and newfound family, Alphas and Betas, ARC readers, and those who have been excited to share and talk about my work ~ know that I love you and cherish you. You are a big part of the reason this book has made it out into the world. Keep being awesome.
And to all those Lizards out there, the ones who thought I’d never amount to more, the ones that thought I’d never truly be able to hold my own book in my hand ~ You helped me create a masterpiece out of spite. I just want you to know, I made it.
Author's Note
Before you dive in, there are a couple of triggers I would like to make you aware of.
This 18+ dark polyromance novel includes graphic scenes and deals with sensitive topics such as romanticizing/encouraging criminal acts (such as cannibalism, knife play, and violence), using sex as a healing/coping mechanism, and a fictional mental disorder (Hyzophrenic Manic Disorder or HMD) that has been inspired by real conditions. The portrayal of HMD, a fictional mental health disorder, is by no means written in a way to vilify individuals currently suffering from real–life mental health conditions or individuals who know someone who is.
Creative license has been taken with the main character who suffers from HMD, in which he is aware of his alters, can speak to them in his head, and can switch between them on demand. The alters often talk to each other regardless of which alter is present in the host body.
There are several instances where the main character does not handle HMD in a healthy fashion and this by no means is representative of how real mental health disorders work, how individuals deal with them, or how their mental health may cause struggles for the individual in everyday life.
All comparisons between the fictional disorder portrayed in PHOENIX and real–life mental health disorders which have been scientifically diagnosed by a real–life doctor should be taken with a grain of salt.
Contents
1. SLASH
2. KILLIAN
3. AERON
4. KILLIAN
5. KILLIAN
6. KILLIAN
7. PHOENIX
8. KILLIAN
9. PHOENIX
10. KILLIAN
11. KILLIAN
12. KILLIAN
13. PHOENIX
14. KILLIAN
15. KILLIAN
16. RYKER
17. KILLIAN
18. RYKER
19. KILLIAN
20. KILLIAN
21. KILLIAN
22. MERCHANT
23. KILLIAN
24. MERCHANT
25. KILLIAN
26. KILLIAN
27. MERCHANT
28. KILLIAN
29. DARK
30. AERON
31. KILLIAN
32. SAMAEL
33. KILLIAN
34. KILLIAN
35. KILLIAN
36. MERCHANT
37. KILLIAN
38. DARK
39. AERON
40. KILLIAN
41. SLASH
42. KILLIAN
43. KILLIAN
44. AERON
45. KILLIAN
46. DAEMON
47. KILLIAN
48. SLASH
49. AERON
50. KILLIAN
51. DARK
52. AERON
53. DAEMON
54. SLASH
55. KILLIAN
56. KILLIAN
57. SAMAEL
58. AERON
59. SLASH
60. KILLIAN
The Journey Continues
SLASH
I dragged the body bag in, relishing the way the heavy plastic crinkled against the black and white marbled floor of Aeron’s basement. The area was sleek and eerily spotless, exercise equipment set against the far wall hiding the entrance to a full bathroom.
9 6x4 ft chest freezers ran along the opposite side, one of them sitting open a few feet from me. That one’s new.
The adrenaline pumping through my limbs had started to wane as the excitement of the kill disappeared, clear thoughts replacing the chaotic darkness I had been trying so hard to hide.
It had been a minute since I had visited Aeron’s place for anything other than a hot shower or a drop–off. Our rendezvous consisted of a quick exchange, a snarky comment, and then some dig at my choice of profession before I shuffled myself off to my next destination.
On the rare occasion I needed to clean up, I stayed for a shower and a conversation; Aeron was one of the few people in the world I didn’t have to hide from.
Should I have visited Aeron more often? Sure, but I barely had time for myself, though, let alone the time required to fulfill my own twisted urges. I dropped the load with a loud thud, signaling my arrival.
Two piercing sea–green eyes popped up from behind one of his chest freezers, flashing with intrigue at the package sitting by my feet. He shook his head, water droplets falling from his electric blue strands.
The strands flopped back to his forehead as he stood up, revealing his bare torso, his jeans sitting low enough on his hips to show off the vast artwork that was Aeron himself. A crisp cut V disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants, desires swirling in my head telling me to do more than just ogle the man.
He made his way around the freezer, two small silver hoops on his left ear dangling as he walked. A full head shorter than me, just over six feet, and with a leaner build, Aeron was no less terrifyingly lethal when his urges got the best of him.
A wild grin spread across his face, his lips curling unnaturally as his gaze dropped to the black mass adorning his floor. His tongue darted out, almost as if he were tasting the addition to his basement. I had never enjoyed watching his eyes bug out in carnal desire, but I couldn’t hate him for it.
After everything we had been through, we might not have been blood, but we had an easy enough partnership going that I couldn’t fault him for his darker desires. Aeron was just a man I could be myself around. He was a friend, a confidant, and sometimes a lover. He approached and shifted me out of the way as he crouched over the bag, his fingers itching to shred the plastic.
“It’s awfully late for you to show up, Slash. Or shall I say early? 2:00 a.m. is usually reserved for booty calls, you know.” He chuckled at his attempt at humor, however, the sound ignited a heated desire deep within that I’d been neglecting.
Still, I had the urge to kick him, knock him off balance for being such a cheeky bastard. He should have been glad that I came by at all. His fingers danced over the bag with excitement.
“May I?”
I took a step back and folded my arms across my chest, “Have at it.”
He squealed, yanking the zipper down and revealing one of my less–than–perfect kills to date. The dickhead hadn’t been on my list, but he was such an easy target and I had been feeling antsy lately, itching to do something. The man couldn’t have been taller than 5’7”, a thicker build that accentuated the muscles along his arms and legs.
A thick layer of blood covered most of his facial features, his spotty black mustache caked with dirt and grime. His entire body was still soaked from sweat derived from fear, although the wet spot between his legs was most definitely not sweat.
He had been some form of doctor if the victim locking up one of the no–name clinics a few streets over was any indication.
I kicked the dead fucker’s foot, jostling Aeron’s attention, needing his reaction to know if this victim would do.
“Fresh meat?” Aeron's hand traveled the length of the victim’s face before he tapped the guy’s cheek three times in quick succession, a rather annoying tick that seemed unique to Aeron’s twisted personality. Everything was so methodical with him. Always in threes or fives, nothing missed.
It was a wonder that despite the freezers down here, his house was so…normal. Clean, spotless, even.
Adoration showed through Aeron’s expression, his pupils darkening till the green of his eyes was nearly black. His bod
I grunted my appreciation as Aeron whipped his head toward me, “Yet, you couldn’t have dropped it in the cooler?”
And there it was. The haughty guy I remember getting into bed with, on more than one occasion. He hid behind his rough persona, doling out cheeky remarks like weapons to hide the softie he truly was. His eyes narrowed in annoyance with a warning, a hint of playfulness lurking beneath the surface.
I didn’t usually mind until he became excited about a new recipe and started drooling over his next creation. His eyes would flash an unnatural blue, the darkness spreading through his features. Aeron was a terrifying creature to behold, when in his element. I was glad we were partners rather than enemies.
I shrugged, “I was getting a little antsy. I should have taken my time though. Now, I’m just frustrated.” My kills were a work of art, a performance of the painstaking detail I imparted on each body. Carving flesh in ways most people couldn’t even dream of. It’s why the city had dubbed me “The Skinner,” a fitting name to be sure with my delicate artistry on display.
I left filets of my victims to be found by the public, etching fear and terror in the hearts of every city resident. It brought me joy—the chaos and destruction that I left behind.
But I hadn’t planned out a good kill in almost a month and my left hand had started shaking again, so I had to jump on a poor sucker, without even so much time as to intricately prepare him for the public.
I hadn't left my usual note, no body to find, no real carnage to link back to one of the most terrifying nightmares in this city. Hell, I had barely spilled any blood. This kill didn’t sit well with me, but it would subdue the beast inside for a little while longer.
Aeron had started admiring the body with more than just his eyes, three fingers trailing down the man’s chest and along his arms before returning to his face with a gentleness that didn’t match his twisted persona. His other hand discreetly adjusted his cock as he continued to observe the victim before him.
At first glance, it looked like the dead bodies I dragged in here made Aeron sexually aroused, but it wasn’t. It was the food, the delicacy of human flesh that did the trick. He assured me it was two wildly different things. I couldn’t see it.
This was one of the parts I hated—the way he checked out the merchandise I brought him. He found a sick sense of satisfaction in doing this in front of me. Then again, I had definitely slashed a few throats in front of him and he had had nightmares for months.
Aeron threw me one of his award-winning smiles, one of those smiles that would never let you know that this model of a man chopped people up and ate them for dinner. “You need to fuck someone.” He threw out bluntly. I sighed. I knew that. I knew that not having a fuck buddy made me twitch. But finding someone to indulge in my twisted fantasies was more than a little difficult.
I watched in fascination as Aeron expertly whipped out one of his carving knives and sliced into the man’s cheek. Blood dribbled at the open wound, the crimson liquid already starting the process of coagulation. I knew this part would give me nightmares, but for some reason, I couldn’t look away.
I enjoyed the kill, the silencing of a mind, the fear I could draw from my victims. But once they were dead? That was all Aeron’s territory. I kept talking, “I have someone in mind.” Fading memories of soft curves and innocent eyes ran through my head before I shoved them away. I didn’t know how to contact him; I also didn’t know if he wanted to talk to me.
Aeron nodded, “Oh, I’m sure you do have someone in mind, but you need someone now. I don’t think your choice is available at the moment and your girlfriend isn’t cutting it.” He dragged his fingers along the open cut, spreading crimson along the man’s cheek before lifting those three fingers to his lips and sucking the carnage from them. His eyes rolled back into his head as the other hand dipped to his crotch again, slowly stroking the growing bulge between his thighs.
I groaned, finally looking away, “Fucking hell, that shit’s disgusting.”
Aeron cackled while he zipped up the bag, threw it over his shoulder, and walked the few paces to his new freezer before plopping it inside. I winced at the way the body limply hit the bottom. Frowning at him, I asked, “Not even going to section it first?”
Aeron shook his head as he closed the lid, and squatted down, watching until the freezer light turned off and the sound of suction filled the basement. He patted the top three times before he looked up at me again, “No, blood gets everywhere. I don’t like mess. You should know that.”
“Still fucking disgusting.” I fake retched and he sent me a dark glare, but his eyes were dancing. This was his favorite part of the process.
“And you love me for it, so deal with it.” I couldn’t disagree with him on that.
The door behind me swung open to reveal a large shadow, the figure accompanied by a deep voice that seemed to rumble through my chest. “That was too fucking close. Both of your cravings are going to get us in trouble.”
I turned to see massive shoulders approaching me, rippling muscles tightening in his bared forearms, jaw clenched at our lack of respect for any sort of restraint. Dark brown eyes met mine, eyes harboring only anger after being dealt so much pain in a shitty world.
Samael, our third. I managed a laugh. “Ah, how’s my little Sammy? A little pissy you didn’t get to wreak as much havoc as usual?”
“Fuck you.” The beast was finally here. The public called him, “The King.” Ruthless ruler of underground dealings, yet no one had the faintest clue who he was. Mixed reports had everything from a stunted teenager to an old gentleman who resembled someone from the mafia. Fuck, if they only knew.
Despite being three years younger than my 31–year–old self, and a few inches shorter, his broad shoulders put most weightlifters to shame. The man was massive, and his mere presence struck fear, a fact he constantly tried to diminish with dark clothing, which hid the tattoos and scars that wrapped around his chest and back. If Aeron was a work of art, Samael was a goddamn chiseled statue.
Growing up beside a guy like that taught me a few things about true terror. Let’s just say, I’d never want to be on the receiving end of Samael’s anger.
Aeron smiled from behind his freezer, most likely mulling over how to prepare his next meal, making me shudder. “You’re literally here to make sure we don’t get caught.” His voice had a light–hearted, airy feel to it that was dismissive of the human body he had just stuffed in his freezer for his future dinner.
Sometimes the ease with which Aeron hid his inner demons terrified me.
Samael gave both of us a once over, pausing momentarily as his gaze trailed Aeron’s shirtless form and then folded his arms across his chest, muscles taut beneath his collared black shirt. “Yeah, but this impromptu shit? That’s gotta stop.”
We all knew we had to be careful, but we also knew the signs. Everyone had been getting a little trigger happy, I, however, had covered my tracks. No one would miss this guy for at least a day or two. The fact that I hadn’t left a body meant that it’d get chalked up to a disappearance.
Besides, Samael had gotten something out of the kill too. “Hey, stop throwing a hissy fit. This got you a fucking full warehouse of medical supplies. That stuff will bring a pretty penny.”
“Fuck you.”
Despite not having planned properly, I had done enough research to make the kill worth it. The fact that Aeron had accepted the addition to his food bank meant that it was a near–perfect one at that. If only a little bit more blood had been spilled.
Aeron met Samael’s heated gaze and his lips curled up further—if that were possible, “You both need to get laid.”
An irritated scowl left my lips but Aeron didn’t shrink back as he approached, those sinful hips swaying with every step. None of us were scared of each other. Each of us being monsters ourselves, saved us from that.
“And you don’t?” I spit back at him, licking my lips as I waited for him to come within reach, and then dragged him against me, my face dropping to the curve of his neck. The fresh scent of mangoes and coconut reached my nose as he leaned into my chest.
