First Monika, then Mr. Singkham’s cleverly engineered death—a simple internal electrical charge should do it. Everyone will think he had a stroke instead. Then the Marduk and any minions who may remain loyal to him. Then destroy all the weapons. Fuck, kill, kill, destroy. Easy peasy.
Feeling quite content with my plans, I strut in my fucking capri pants to my office. First things first: I need to find her address. As my dick swells at the memory of last night, I also decide that second on my list before killing Mr. Singkham is going to see the doctor to make sure Icancontinue fucking Monika with wild abandon with this new magnificent dick. It makes me wonder if I should shower—yes. Did she shower? I would have heard it. Which meant she really left mypenthouse in the middle of the night without a bra or drawers on, my cum and her slick crusted all over her.
Did strange men and women see Monika’s pert nipples poking through the thin fabric of my T-shirt? Did they look at her bare toes curl, curl, curling as the pleasure crashes through her, and she’s fully restrained, incapable of escaping my hold as I slam into her over and over and ...
Fuck.
I rub my hand roughly over my face as I enter my office and find her file. It sits in a locked drawer underneath my built-in shelving unit, right beneath the shelf that holds my strange silver weapons. I glance at them as I wrench the drawer open, and curiosity has me reaching out to touch one of them. I brush my fingers over the metal, which isn’t like any metal I’ve ever felt before. Almost rough, it carries a preternatural chill, like it’s trying to warn me away from it. Like it isn’t even mine.
I frown as I pick one up and pull it on. I did some research. In the human world, there exists only one other weapon like it: the katar. An ancient Indian weapon, it fits on my hands like gloves. There’s a trigger mechanism inside that I can squeeze and the single blade pops into three.
Now that I’ve reverted and have regained my memory, I remember the Elders bestowing this weapon onto me. I could use it on Tratharine just fine without a key, but for whatever reason, here on Earth, the key is required both to find the weapons and activate them. The Elders could not have designed this system to be more fucking complicated. When activated, lightning would shoot out from the tips of each blade of my weapon, so powerful that one single strike to the chest could kill any incoming opponent. I could simply stand at the top of a hill and eradicate an entire approaching army one by one.
That’s why the Wyvern is only number Sixty-Two in our hierarchy.
I grin at the revelation, then frown again as I remember that the Marduk is number Four. I cannot allow him to revert, or I might struggle with phase three of myfuck, kill, kill, destroymission. Especiallyconsidering that the weapons remain dead in my hands on this planet, nothing more than useless scrap metal. I frown. Is this weapon ... even mine? What if he offered me a poor man’s replica?
“Of course he fucking did,” I grunt, clearing my weapons from my desk and tossing them onto the shelf behind me before returning to Monika’s file to find her personal information. “One problem at a fucking time.” Fuck, kill, kill, destroy. I need to keep my priorities in check.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and, ignoring far, far too many notifications that I have no intention of dealing with now or later, I call her. It goes straight to voicemail. Concern mounting alongside suspicion, I try again. And then three times more.
“Stupid bitch,” I curse, my chest heating with embarrassment. She’s going to see those missed calls from me and what’s she gonna think? That Darius is some desperate fucking loser?
Lewd and lucid visions of how I’ll punish her for ignoring my calls flood my thoughts and make me harder than the goddamn paddle I’m gonna whoop that ass with. Oh, how I’m gonna punish her ...
I glance down at the file, which is stamped with a black-and-white photo of her face that I tear out and shove into the pocket of my sweatslike a psychoand come to the bit with her address. “No.” I blink at the paper. I blink again, and anger hits the nape of my neck. “That fucking ...liar.”
I know I’m being irrational as I slam the paper down on my desk and move out of my office, kicking the door shut behind me. I return to my living quarters, heading straight past the couch I fucked her roughly on last night and rip open the glass doors that lead to my balcony. I take flight without bothering to shut the doors behind me, circle the building, find the four floors down from mine, and touch down onto the most bizarrely decorated balcony I’ve ever seen. There are carpets out here, bright pink and orange, and so many plants I nearly trip over one in my haste to make my landing.
Batting back the feathery bush, I rip open the door to her balcony, my irritation spiking to dangerous levels as I find it unlocked. I mayhave aerial precautions installed to notify me of any incoming intruders, but she doesn’t. “Stupid, reckless woman ...”
Even though Ishouldfeel better knowing that she didn’t leave my—our—apartment building in the dead of night, I don’t. Because when I take a tour of her apartment, I find room after room of spectacularly blinding color and horrific decorations ...
But no. Fucking. Monika.
Where the fuck would she have gone, and when? Did I not have a conversation with her that ended in me fucking her with my tail about how naughty girls who walk around my place when they were expressly told to be carried or crawl don’t get to leave my bed? Ever again?
I grunt as I enter her bedroom and plant my hands on my hips, looking down at a bed that’s covered in a hideous green duvet that’s not even slightly rumpled. She didn’t sleep here last night. Where the fuck did she go? Who was she with? My tail swats at the air violently. Maybe tail-fucking her in the ass would have sent a clearer message.
As my mind rages with worry—anger, I mean, not worry—the sound of elevator doors gliding open pulls my attention around, my entire body moving with it. That better be fucking Monika, and if she’s with anyone else, so help me ...
Myhornscrackle with electricity as I step out of her bedroom, cut down the hall to her living room, cross it, and see her in her little entryway. “You dare,” I hiss.
She screams before she glances up, her eyes puffy and her hair mussed. I have a full-body reaction to seeing her standing there in my oversize T-shirt and black sweats that entirely swallow her curves, and what I feel is ... unsure. I don’t feel like myself at all.
The electricity that passes through my horns makes my shoulders roll back. I come alive, inhaling so deep I feel it in my toes. And then lightning skitters out in a cloud around me, a huge burst that makes Monika scream a second time. I exhale and the lightning cloud reabsorbs into my body, disappearing as quickly as it came. I’m movingforward the whole time, my paces long. Her apartment is big, but still smaller than mine, and I make it to her in seconds.
She’s standing up, whatever rags she was holding in her hand now discarded at her feet, her mouth fumbling over words. I grab her by the throat, rage lighting like a match down my spine. Pushing her back against the closed elevator doors, I bring our noses nearly to touch. Against her lips, I exhale, “You dare run from me?”
While she chokes on some sort of excuse, I open the elevator doors behind her with a flick of my gifts and push her back toward the empty free fall. She screams, “Taranis!” Her eyes fly open wide and she grabs on to my forearm, and I frown, not liking the feeling that she’s called methat.Darius held her trust last night—a trust Taranis has never so much as touched. I want it back.
“Darius,” I whisper.
Her pulse pounds beneath my palm, and I don’t like that either. She’s been calmer in front of greater adversaries before, and I decide then that I’m not sure that’s what I want to be to her anymore.
“Darius,” she repeats.
I drag her into the foyer and whirl her body around, pressing her into the concrete wall. My gaze sweeps her face. Her eyes are all bloodshot. She hasn’t slept.
