21 Shades of Night, page 405
I sigh and push off of the bed, ignoring the reflection of my naked body in the large glass window as I bend down and scoop up a pair of ruffled, black slacks. I slide into them mindlessly, not bothering to button them up before I cross the large, sparse room and rest at the bar on the other side. I grab an almost empty bottle of whiskey by the neck and tip the rest of its contents into an empty glass. It’s kind of sad, really. The night started out with so much promise…and yet, here I am.
Alone…
…polishing off my last bottle of whiskey.
I sip at the lukewarm liquid it as I saunter over to the wide sheet of glass window that overlooks the entire expansion of Concave City. Where is she staying, that Violet of mine? Is she with someone? A stranger? A familiar lover? Jealousy flares and incites my rage. I clench my glass and it creaks in my hand.
I growl low in my chest and imagine lips parting and her long hair curling over her bare breasts, exposing her beautiful pink nipples as she rides someone else’s cock.
Someone. Else’s.
Not. Mine.
Anger—white hot anger—flares in my chest. No! I slam back my whiskey and whip around. Without thought, spurred by rage and jealousy, I throw my glass hard across the room. I whirl back to the window as it shatters against the paneled wall and crumbles onto the carpet.
I rake my stare over the sleepy city. She’s out there somewhere and she’ll come for me again when she realizes I haven’t left Earth. Maybe she’ll kill me. Maybe she won’t. Honestly? I want her to kill me. I want her to tear my heart from my chest and end my suffering. I’d beg her to if I could…but I can’t. She’s going to come for me and my demon side, Death, will fight her. He’ll do everything in his power to stay alive and, despite my love for Violet, Death will crush her like an insect.
The urge to warn her bubbles to the surface and I try to suppress it by pressing the hot palms of my hands against the cool glass. Would she even listen? Of course not. Listening to my orders has never been her strong suit. Where would I find her, anyway?
I close my eyes and then it hits me. I know exactly how to find her. I whirl on my heel and stalk toward my desk. Without thought, without hesitation, I press the intercom button and say, “Mena, bring me the witch.”
I pull my finger off the button and circle my desk before dropping into my chair.
The witch can help me.
* * *
THE DOOR CLICKS and then creaks as it’s pushed open a crack. Mena, my assistant, pokes her head inside my room. “Mr. Cross?”
Her long, dead straight black hair spills over her shoulders as she scans my room, squinting her almond eyes to locate me in the dark. She spots me sitting behind my large, oak desk and pushes the door open as she straightens her posture. I watch, silently, as she smooths the palms of her tiny hands down the front of her tight, black dress and swallows nervously. I close my eyes and listen to the pound of her heart. It beats rapidly and I can’t help the quirk in my lips.
Humans. They’re scared of everything.
Behind Mena trails Eva, the beautiful witch I saved moons ago. The only witch I trust enough to work with.
“I’m not one of your call girls, Lucas,” Eva’s warns me in that strained voice of hers that I like so much. “You don’t get to summon me in the middle of the night.”
Perhaps it is selfish of me to pull Eva from her sleep. A woman of her age needs plenty of rest. “Unfortunately,” I chuckle playfully.
Mena leaves without a word and on the other side of the door, in the narrow hall, I hear her exhale in relief. She should consider herself lucky. The assistant I had in the underworld lasted three days before I grew tired of her incessant nagging and obliterated her body into a fine, pale ash.
Rolling her eyes, Eva lowers herself into the armchair opposite me, placing her weathered hands on my desk. “What is it you want?”
What is it I want exactly? It’s simple, really. I want to see Violet. I want to talk to her now…as an acquaintance not an enemy. Clearing my throat, I lean forward and place my elbows on the table.
“I need you to locate someone.”
Eva frowns. “The redhead you had sent to your room wasn’t enough?”
I simper. Not even close. “No.”
She sighs, unimpressed. “Who do you want?”
“Violet Ashton. She’s here in Concave City, somewhere.”
Eva leans forward, intrigued. The dark purple fabric of her dressing gown makes a gentle whooshing sound as she moves to rest her elbows on the table. “There’s a woman out there you know more details about than solely her first name? Color me interested.”
“Can you locate her or not?” I snap, leaning back in my chair.
She shrugs a shoulder as she quirks an eyebrow. “Maybe. Do you have anything of hers I can channel?”
“No.”
“Then unless you have a strong connection with the woman in question, I won’t be able to locate her,” Her lips quirk with a smug smile. “And I know for a fact that you don’t have a connection with anything other than a bottle of whiskey. So, can I go back to bed now?”
She’s fishing. I know she is. I clench my jaw on and off. I trust Eva, I do, but I don’t trust my brothers. If I let Eva inside my head to locate Violet and my brothers find out I’ve been looking for her…God knows that they’ll do.
But if I don’t…if I don’t talk to her…I’ll spend the rest of eternity regretting it.
“Damn it…” Exhaling, I sit forward and hold my hands out toward Eva. “Channel me.”
Her gold eyes flare. “Like I said, unless you have a connec—”
“Just fucking channel me,” I bite out.
Without hesitation, she clasps her soft, papery hands around mine and closes her eyes. Eva scrunches her face and then smooths it out. She does it over and over until finally…she gasps and opens her eyes. “My, my,” she exhales, shocked. “What a connection…”
I look away from her and fixate my attention on a painting of the apocalypse on the far side of the room. It’s an old painting—a biblical painting of the four horsemen. How fitting. It’s a gift from War and it’s worth more than this entire building.
Eva closes her eyes again and I wait in silence, admiring the pastel man riding a pale horse, sending everything surrounding him into a state of decay. That is my role in the end of the world. The final horseman. Death.
Minutes pass and I finally drag up the courage to look at Eva’s face. I’ve done this location thing plenty of times and it has never taken this long. Eventually, Eva opens her eyes and her thick, dark lips inch down into a sad smile.
“You’re in love?” she whispers, tilting her head.
I knew it! I knew it doesn’t take that long. I yank my hands back and slam them against the table, forcing myself to my feet. My chair shoots back and tips over, but Eva doesn’t jump, her face doesn’t change. Why would it? She isn’t scared of me. She never has been. I’m like a son to her.
“I asked you to locate the female. I didn’t ask you to snoop around in my fucking head!” I shout, leaning forward, imposing my authority.
Crossing her arms tightly over her chest, Eva looks up at me disapprovingly. “You better watch your tone with me, Lucas, or I’ll—”
“—you’ll what? Hm? What are you going to do? I saved you from War. I took you from him and gave you a better existence.” I raise my hand. “One click and I can send you straight back.”
I’ve never thrown her past back in her face. I’ve never used the torture she went through as a threat, but right now, knowing she’s seen every little detail about the past Violet and I shared, it’s the only ammo I’ve got.
Eva’s expression tightens, but she doesn’t snap back at me. She rarely does. Instead, she pushes her chair back and rises to her feet. “Goodnight, Lucas.”
Guilt twists in my stomach, burrowing in deep. As much as I want it to be, it’s not her fault. I allowed her to enter my head. In a puff of smoke, a warm tingle engulfs my body and I disappear into a puff of smoke, only to appear a second later right in front of her, blocking her from the door. I have to admit, the coolest thing I’ve gained since joining my brothers in the Underworld, is the ability to teleport wherever I want in the blink of an eye.
Eva sneers at me and the energy that exudes from her body is warm and powerful. She’ll fight me. I mean, she’ll lose, but she’s got the balls to try.
“I’m sorry, Eva.” I say, wrapping my arms around her slender shoulders and pulling her into me. “I’m not myself today,”
The tension in her shoulders melts away, but she keeps her hands balled into tight fists at her side. “And I suspect the redhead has something to do with it?”
She pulls out of my embrace and I narrow my eyes as she peers up at me. I’m not saying anything that could put Violet in danger. Eva snooping around in my head was risky enough. I trust Eva—I do, but she used to work for my brother War, and I sure as hell don’t trust him.
“She’s staying in an apartment complex,” Eva confesses. I zip over to my wardrobe, ignoring the smoke that surrounds me, and pull on a t-shirt. “The address is 173A Boundary Street, Velmount.”
I grab the black hoodie that hangs off the wardrobe door and put it on.
“Lucas—”
As I slip my arms in, I disappear in a puff of smoke before Eva has a chance to finish what she wants to say. My need to see Violet again outweighs any need to be polite.
* * *
I HATE THE suburbs and their near-identical houses—not to mention the incessant barking of neglected dogs. Thankfully, this street isn’t like the others I’ve come across. There are more apartments than houses and, by the looks of it, no one is allowed to have a dog since there are no backyards. I stroll along the footpath, reading plaques and mailboxes as I pass them. What was the address that Eva gave me? 173A Boundary Street?
Surprisingly, I don’t have to follow the street for long. I step around a large chip in the concrete and an unclipped bush and there it is, written in metal on the white, concrete wall. 169-176.
I focus on a window on the second floor. In one heartbeat, I’m on the outside and the next, I’m in. I glance around the room, my nose twitching at the smell of weed and potato chips. In the bed across from me sleeps to young men, nakedly spooning each other as they dreamed peaceful dreams.
Frowning, I zip back outside and glance at another window. In the blink of an eye, I’m inside a bedroom—a different bedroom.
And then it hits me.
I freeze as the smell floats through me, pinning my heart mid-beat. I part my lips and inhale, filling my lungs with the scent. Her scent. My blood begins to sizzle as her energy sticks to my skin. I close my eyes for a moment and imagine the taste of her flesh on my tongue.
What I’d give to feel her hands on me just one more time…
She coughs and I open my eyes. My stare glues to the queen bed and Violet who sleeps restlessly on it. To humans, demon smoke is undetectable, but angels can pick up the scent and feel it burning at the back of their throats. With a frustrated kick, Violet shoves the blue blanket down and it slides off the edge of the bed, pooling on the floor. My fingers twitch and the muscles low in my abdomen clench. I see her… I see her lying there in a camisole and skimpy underwear, the black lace meshing nicely with her cherry red hair that sprawls around her like a mesmerizing flame on a wick.
My throat runs dry as I wait for the smoke to dissipate. When it does, I approach her bed. The closer I get to her, the more my skin buzzes. One would argue that the reason I can feel her presence is because we’re supernatural enemies, but I’ve always felt her on my skin whenever she’s near. Always.
I reach out and push a thin, soft lock of hair off her cheek, making her nose twitch and her eyebrows knit together. If she woke up, would she be mad? Would she let me talk or would she grab her gun?
I watch, cautiously, as her eyes flicker beneath her lids. Funnily enough, I don’t have the heart to wake her. She works hard. She deserves her sleep. I lightly touch her cheek with the back of my hand. Her skin is warm and soft, like I remember. I brush the back of my index finger along her jaw line and she catches her bottom lip between her perfect white teeth with a soft moan. I tilt my head back and glance at the white ceiling. I’d never do anything to a woman without consent, but my God she’s making it difficult to stand by that moral code. Before I lose control in more ways than one, I plant a kiss on her cheek…
…and I go home.
Chapter 7
Disposition
*
Violet
I PARK MY car in the private parking around the back of the headquarters and enter the building. As I descend the stairs, I pull my hair into a loose ponytail and clear my throat, desperate to get rid of the smoky taste in the back. Lucas. Fucker was in my room last night. I know he was. I swipe the back of my hand across my cheeks and over my jaw. Underneath my skin, my blood tingles—not from my own touch, but from his. Who does he think he is? Sneaking into my room while I sleep?
“Back so soon?”
I startle as the overly-cheery Janet greets me from her desk as I step into the lobby. Nodding, I walk past her, not in the mood for any kind of chit chat, forced or otherwise. I march down the wide hallway with a thin manila folder in my hand. Inside it are the details of my next move against Death. Why? Because I woke up sometime last night with an uneasy feeling swirling in the pit of my stomach. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t fall back to sleep with the distinct hints of smoke and thick rivulets of energy floating around my room. If I’m being honest—truly honest—I spent the night crying like a little bitch…
Because I still fucking love him.
Because now have to kill him.
I hoped that he would listen to my warning...but he didn’t and he’s left me with no choice.
I knock on Cole’s office door, tighten my ponytail, and wait patiently.
“Come in,” Cole calls, his voice muffled.
I open the door and step inside. Cole Nark sits at his desk, patting the edges of his mouth with a napkin. My stares falls to the small spattering of pink frosting on his shirt, the residue of his usual morning donut.
“What do you want?” He sighs, apparently still feeling emasculated after I dominated him yesterday. Serves him right.
I bite my bottom lip and fight the urge to smile smugly. “I have a mission adjustment that I need you to sign off on.”
He extends his hand and I give him my folder. I stand across from him, my hands behind my back, and watch his face as he reads it. His messy eyebrows knit together. “What the hell is The Darkside?”
I roll my eyes at the originality of the name. “It’s a nightclub-slash-hotel in the south of Concave City. Intel says Lucas owns it and is living in the Penthouse suite. He didn’t take my threat seriously and now—”
“Oh, now you’ll kill him?” His voice holds a sarcastic tone that sends frustration zipping down my spine. “You seem surprised that he didn’t listen to you. D’you honestly think he would?”
I glower at him. “Just sign the damn thing so I can go.”
Grunting, Cole lowers the folder and reaches for a pen. “Do you need back up?”
I simper. I’ve killed ninety-nine demons, I don’t need help. I placed my hands on my hips. “No.”
“I’m assigning you back up anyway.”
I step forward and place my palms on his desk. “The last thing I need is a handful of humans running around shooting their guns. I’ll make you a deal. If I haven’t torn the heart from Lucas’s chest by three a.m., you can send back up.”
Cole taps his chubby fingers against the folder in thought. I glance at his worn nails, nails that have been chewed down to the skin and cringe. “Fine, but if you fuck this up, Ashton—”
“Yeah, yeah,” I interrupt. “It’ll be on my head. I get it.”
Exhaling, Cole signs along the dotted line, approving part two of the mission.
I stalk from his office and storm through the lobby, not daring to look in Janet’s direction. When I make it out into the fresh air, I slow my legs and glance up at the bright, blue sky. Tonight, I’ll be making the biggest, most difficult kill of my career and the man I’m going to kill isn’t the same man I met, the man I fell in love with. He is a demon…and killing demons is what I do.
The mission is simple. First, I’ll need to go dress shopping. If I’m going to storm his club, The Darkside, I’m going to need to blend in. At half past eight, I’ll show up, sweet talk him into taking me upstairs to his room…
…and then I’ll end it there.
* * *
I GAPE AT the tiny leather shorts I hold in my hands and then lower it back to the table. People actually wear this?
“Can I help you?” a woman calls over my shoulder.
“Me?” Startling, I turn around. The woman pushes off a rack of jeans and swallows the distance between us.
She beams, exposing her bright, white teeth. “Yes, you.”
She flicks her long, wavy black hair over her shoulder and smooths the palm of her hand over her stomach, flattening the fabric of her tight, black dress.
“Uh,” I glance at the endless swirls of ink that wrap around her arms, cover her chest and paint her neck. I frown. Perhaps this shop is too outrageous for me. “No. I’m just browsing. Thank you,”
She saunters up to the table I stand in front of and rests against it. “So you’re, like, not after anything in particular…or—?”
I blink at her, waiting for her to finish her sentence. Or is a conjunction, it’s meant to connect a sentence…isn’t it?
“Um…” I clear my throat. Why is she staring at me like I’m the one not-fully-here?
“I’m going to The Darkside. I need a dress.” I glance at her dress and then at her name tag. “One that isn’t see-through, Tasha.”
