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CHAPTER 1
NYX
It was a good idea yesterday, but the blade at my throat today says I messed up royally somewhere along the way.
One would think my first error occurred when I stepped into the bathroom and watched a Lord of Chaos pleasure himself while he showered.
But, no. That was my second. My first mistake was letting the sight of all that tanned skin distract me from running when I had the chance.
Killer, punisher, and widow maker are all words whispered behind Ryth Cross’ back—leader of the Lords of Chaos. Everyone knows his name if they want to stay undead. Know thy enemy and all that, right?
I part-time bartend at a pub where the beer is slung just as much as the bullshit. But every time someone says their name, whispers of truth fall over the crowd, and they all start with death and end in blood. I kid you not. The Lords rule over their section of the city with iron fists. No one steps out of line and lives. Why my brother thought working for them was a good idea, I don’t know. But I promise you this, the second I find that selfish bastard I’m going to kill him myself. If I don’t end up in a grave first.
This leads us back to my current situation.
I should have run when I had the chance. I had a direct and unobstructed path to the elevator, but when I saw Ryth walk through his bedroom door covered in blood every muscle in my legs turned to petrified stone and I could do nothing but hope he didn’t see me tucked behind his thick curtains.
And then he stripped. I don’t consider myself shallow, but I do have weaknesses. I admit the sight of that man is one of them.
On the plus side, I now know three things about Ryth Cross. One, the man is hung like a donkey. Two, he conceals multiple knife scars across his torso and back beneath his typical thousand-dollar suits. And third, he’s obsessed with tidiness. He folds every single piece of clothing he has on before showering, except the ones soiled with blood. Like his dress shirt today. That went into a duffel bag at the foot of his bed. He probably calls it “the murder bag”.
Intriguing.
But so are the two dimples just above his perfectly tanned ass.
What the fuck am I doing here? Focus, Nyx. You want answers. Right.
“Do you always sneak into strangers’ bedrooms?” Ryth’s voice is strained but that only makes his question sound more ominous.
He snaps his fingers at me when my lips don’t move with the answers he’s expecting. “Up here, pussy cat. Answer my fucking question before you bleed out on my floor.”
The tip nicks tender flesh and I feel a single drop of warm blood roll down the side of my throat. He’s not kidding around.
I wet my lips. “Um, not daily, no.” There is no way he will understand that it’s not my fault I couldn’t take my eyes off the gorgeous tatts that run from his large knuckles to his shoulder blades. I fell into a trance when he was in the shower with how all that coiled muscle bunched and released the faster he worked himself. It’s the only answer I have for how I ended up in the bathroom instead of running for my life in the opposite direction.
And, okay, I may have gotten carried away at the sight of his rock-hard abs, chiseled chest, and tight ass. It’s why I couldn’t hold back the groan when he reached his end. The masculine grunts…I just couldn’t.
That was my…I mentally tally up the ways I’ve gone wrong. Third mistake, I think.
The groan came out just as loud as his, revealing my presence.
Our eyes clashed through the glass shower wall and the impact nearly sent me to my knees. I trembled in fear from my fingers to my toes. And from arousal. Instead of my heart stopping at the flash of anger I found in his dark irises, it turned over and over with excitement.
I’ve never seen a man go from turned on to beyond pissed so fast. He barreled out of the shower and all I could do was stand there and wait for impact.
And that is how I ended up at knifepoint. My eyes fall to his bare chest for a second. “Let me explain.” I try for a smile, but it falls flat the second the corners of my lips start to reach high. His scowl makes sure of that quickly. “It’s not what you think,” I try again.
“Really? Because I’m not hearing much coming from your mouth. Nothing I like, anyway. Maybe you should use those fuck-me-red lips to suck my cock off since you can’t seem to find your voice.” His tone turns dangerously husky.
I am pretty sure in another life I would have been the scared type. But right now, in this one, I’m nothing but turned on by the idea this mobster could end my life right this second or give me the best orgasm of my life.
For whatever reason, I think it’s a good idea to place my hand on his wrist as he’s detailing how my mouth could be put to good use. More blood drips down my throat and I get it. No touching, but that doesn’t make me remove my hand from his body.
I swallow thickly. His pulse hammers against the pads of my fingers when I try and pry his steel from burying itself inside my flesh.
I can see his mind clicking over his options. Kill me quickly or push me to my knees, take what he wants and then kill me.
Every deep inhalation he takes forces my hard nipples against all those deliciously wet grooves. Dripping water from his body soaks the front of my uniform. A thin white knit sweater and white bra equal wet T-shirt contest material.
