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EMRICK
That fucking slut, I don’t know why I was expecting anything different from her.
Everyone else left after a night with me, every single one of them, as though they were afraid I’d take it further and kill them if they came back. They’d disappear out the back with their bruises and bite marks, proverbial tail between their legs, and slink down the alley, never to be seen again. Killing them would serve no purpose, and I didn’t get off on murder. Killing was only to be used when it was absolutely necessary, and given I had been dumped on Earth and pushed into a corner where I had to do what I needed to, it was necessary more than I perhaps would have liked. I didn’t enjoy it, not since the first time.
Not my fault.
This is the point I had tried to get across to my brothers and sisters—and Cara was a perfect example of it—that demons did whatever the hell they wanted without thought for the consequences. Oh, they claimed they cared about the rules, but why was it right they could, on occasion, tear people apart and if not kill them, then practically leave them for dead, and yet when I did the same, I fell?
No amount of explanation made it right. I was told it wasn’t my call to decide who lived or died. But if the higher power controlled all, if we were all just pawns in his game, then humans coming across my path who died at my hand were fated to do so, right?
Wrong, apparently. I was a servant to God, and I should know better. I could not be manipulated like demons and could not be used—all my will was my own.
Or so I was told.
Yet He let the demons roam the Earth, allowed them to do as they pleased—rise through the ranks, become powerful among humans, claim humans as their mates, and partake in earthly pleasures.
But angels, no, that life wasn’t for us. We were held to a higher calling.
I had done what I did without mercy and regret. So now, I was taking my part of this world, claiming this city and making it my own.
By any means necessary.
And fucking demons just took whatever they goddamn wanted.
Cara tasted like him. It didn’t matter how long ago it was. It didn’t matter she didn’t know me then. She was marked by him.
A fuckingdemon.
She’d fucked a goddamn demon, more than once, in some sort of vile demon-human orgy. Whether she knew his true nature was irrelevant, Cara had allowed herself to be used by a minion of Hell and was tainted beyond repair. No wonder she responded so vigorously to my rough treatment. Shelovedit, shecravedit. After being withhim,nothing less would do to get her off.
For a moment, I thought she was different. Fuck knows why, but she was this strange combination of fear and anger, of darkness and light. Spitting out retorts like she wasn’t afraid, then trembling when I got too close to her. Oh, I had longed to pull her layers away and learn what made her tick. I wanted to find out who she was beyond fucking her, something I hadn’t considered for years.
But no. It could never be. There would never be another.
I didn’t have it in me anymore. There was nothing left of the Emrick from all those years ago, not after all the things I had done.
Grinding out a groan between clenched teeth, the glass in my hand shattered. Tate raised his head from his drink, casting a sideways glance at me.
“Boss?” he muttered. There wasn’t concern in his tone, and he sounded almost disinterested. I imagined he was inquiring out of duty more than anything.
That was fine with me as that was all the connection I wanted and deserved anymore.
“I fucking hate demons, you know that?” I spat out. Tate pulled a face, and as I tugged the pieces of glass from my hand and flicked them into an ashtray, I scoffed at him. “Oh, fuck off with that look, Tate, you’re not even a real demon.”
He looked like he was about to hit me, but he wouldn’t dare, not with the bodyguards around. Sometimes I suspected he wanted to deck me, and one day he’d catch me in the wrong mood, and I might take him up on that. It made no difference to me he didn’t like how I ran my business sometimes. If he hated it so much, he could fuck off. Demons, or even humans with demon blood, were useful because of their strength and stamina. Tate had been loyal and helpful, but no one was irreplaceable.
Almost no one.
“Any word?” I snapped at him, pulling my sleeve down and clenching my fist over the fabric to stop the bleeding. Tate stared at me for a moment longer before answering, holding on to whatever level of power he thought he had within this building.
“They got the guys. They’re bringing them in.”
“Good.”
There had been another fire, this time at one of my largest clubs—other than this one—Spicy. I fucking hated the name, but the signage was already there from the previous owner, and it seemed a waste to rebrand it when all I was really interested in was the basement. That large area immediately under the feet of drunken clubgoers served as the perfect space for our specializedchefsto work, and the club itself to be used for distribution. Hell, all our main clientele was right there—I never even had to consider shipping to other cities. This hellhole snorted and swallowed all the merchandise I could produce.
Problem was, there weren’t many people who knew Spicy was one ofmine, and I liked to keep it that way. So, either it was a massive coincidence they had hit that club as well as my other buildings, or—a much more sinister and unfortunately more likely scenario—they knewexactlywhat they were doing and had somehow gotten information few people had.
