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So watching Red seem to suffer with it was frustrating for many reasons.
First, because we needed to know who'd done it, so we could pay it back.
Second, because I didn't know the protocol for a psychotic or traumatized fucking demon. What were the possible repercussions of that? It wasn't like there would ever be an end to that torment if I couldn't figure it out and fix it.
"I'm looking into it," I assured Aram, trying not to sound as frustrated as I was by his running monologue about Red's condition.
We were all fucking worried.
We didn't need to be constantly reminded.
"What is the nurse saying?" Drex asked, swirling his glass, but not drinking.
"Not much of anything," I mumbled, getting up to scan the spines of the books in the library, trying to see if there was an old text I'd forgotten about that might hold the answers we all had. "What?" I snapped when I felt their gazes on me.
"Just wondering if you were being your usual charming self is all, boss man," Daemon said, shooting me that cocky smirk of his.
"He's got a point," Drex agreed, nodding. "I mean, you did stick her with ketamine. Twice."
"Did you geniuses have another way to get her across the country without raising alarm bells with the humans?" I asked, turning to face them. "It's not my job to be nice to her. Someone else wants to charm information out of her, you're welcome to."
"Charm, he must be talking about me," Daemon decided, getting an eye-roll from Bael, but none of us moved to stop him, knowing that he was likely the only one of us who could get anywhere with her. Especially after I fucked with her head and body, confusing her, making her hate me.
Deamon, in his short time on the human plane, had proven time and time again that he had a way with the human women. The shit that didn't work on the women of our kind was like catnip to the ones here.
"Daemon," I called, hating myself already, but not being able to stop the words from coming out either.
"Yeah, boss?"
"Don't fuck her," I told him, getting a brow raise.
"I have other charms," he said, shrugging. If he was reading into my warning, he didn't let on.
I knew better than to hope the others would show me the same respect.
"We don't fuck hostages," I clarified before they could read too much into it.
"Except for Ly," Drex clarified.
"Watch it," I snapped, sighing.
"This place is a morgue," Drex declared, throwing back his drink, then moving to stand. "I'm going to the club."
"Is this really the time for that?" Aram asked, annoyed. "Red is—"
"Practically catatonic? Yeah, noticed that," Drex said. "You know I give a shit about Red, but her life being on hold doesn't mean mine needs to be," he told Aram, then made his way out the door.
"What?" I snapped, looking at Bael who was giving me a look.
To that, he shrugged. "Not my business."
"I'm telling you to make it your business," I demanded.
While he was never outwardly defiant or disrespectful, Bael's tendency toward seeing himself as separate from the rest of us—despite being in the same boat—made him difficult to deal with on good days. And there weren't many of those with him.
"He's spent every spare minute at that club for months."
I didn't keep tabs on all of them. I was their leader, not their fucking father. I didn't ask where they were going when they left or demand to know the details of their private lives.
I knew Drex was gone a lot. But seeing as there wasn't much to do around the house unless we were partying, I figured he was looking for a way to entertain himself. As was his right. I'd long since stopped finding society interesting, choosing instead to stay in, to read, to keep on top of trends so we never came off as "out of time" while the world moved forward around us.
I didn't realize he spent all his time at one place.
I couldn't imagine why the fuck it mattered.
"And?" I asked, shrugging.
"Do you know what club he's going to?" Bael asked.
I had to admit, he might have been a dick, but he'd been quick to pick up on generations full of knowledge I'd thrown at him, learning how to use appliances, new lingo, how human society worked. It was impressive.
The fact that he knew the differences between clubs at all was far further than the rest of us would have been had we just appeared in this much more modern era.
"Clearly, I don't. I can't imagine it matters."
"He's at Sanctuary," Bael supplied, the name meaning nothing to me.
"It's a kink club," Seven explained.
"Who the fuck cares?" I asked. Drex's proclivity toward punishment styles of sex was well known, had been for years. Luckily, human women had been enjoying getting their asses smacked and air supply cut off since the beginning of time.
