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His dark brown skin gleamed in the bare lighting of nearby candles. Dark brows shadowed eyes the color of cognac, and full, plush lips parted on the rim of a half-filled glass of spirits. His patrician features were intimidating in their strength and regality, yet Jonas knew him capable of soft smiles and humor when he wished to display them. The corner of Derek’s mouth ticked as if he hid a smirk; a sure sign that he was playing with a winning hand.
Jonas shook his head to rid it of such thoughts. He had not come here to trace the pleasing lines of Derek’s face with his eyes. He was here to set a problem to rights, no matter how uncomfortable the task might be.
Jonas stepped closer to the table; close enough for the candlelight to illuminate him. Close enough for Derek to take notice. To Jonas’ chagrin, Derek did not seem surprised to see him. His dark eyes flashed with something primal and dark, and his lips parted in a wolfish smile.
“Thacker,” he drawled, sitting up straight and meeting Jonas’ gaze. “Never would have expected to see you here.”
The dashed liar. Derek had avoided Jonas for weeks, knowing damn well there was a matter that needed settling between them. He had practically led Jonas here.
“And yet, here I am,” Jonas ground out between clenched teeth. “A word?”
Derek held his gaze and maintained that hard, feral smile for a second longer before turning back to his cards. “I will be with you in a moment, Thacker. While you wait, sit and make yourself comfortable. Sparrow, be a dear and pour my old friend a drink, on my account.”
The servant Derek had addressed appeared as if from nowhere. Her thin, brown hair had been arranged into a nondescript knot, with a few mousy strands hanging about her face. She offered Jonas a clean, empty glass, then filled it with three fingers of brandy. Keeping her eyes lowered, she melted into the shadows.
Jonas stared into the drink and then looked back at Derek, who seemed to have forgotten all about him. The other men seated at the table began to lay down their cards, tight grimaces pulling at their mouths and suspense hanging thick in the air.
Annoyed, Jonas took half the brandy in one gulp, relishing the fire trickling through his chest and belly. He needed that heat to keep his anger at the forefront of his senses. He could not let his fond memories or traitorous desires derail him from this task.
“I did not come here to be made to wait, Dryden,” Jonas snapped, refusing to sit. “I am a busy man.”
“As am I,” Derek declared, laying his cards down with a flourish. “Busy relieving these fine gentlemen of their coin.”
Curses and groans rose up from the other players as Derek raked the coins and bills toward himself from the center of the table.
“Better luck next time, gents,” he said with a hearty chuckle.
The money disappeared into a purse, which Derek tucked into his breast pocket. He rounded the table in Jonas’ direction, a teasing version of his smile playing along his lips.
Jonas clenched his fist around his glass and squared his shoulders. “We must speak, you and I. In private.”
Derek raised one dark eyebrow and pursed his lips. “God’s balls, Thacker, your manners have certainly diminished over the years. No greeting or inquiries as to the health of my family. Right to business.”
“There is no need for pleasantries,” Jonas spat. “I am certain you know why I am here.”
“I do indeed,” Derek said. “Come.”
Without waiting for him to follow, Derek set off in the opposite direction. Jonas, who stood a head taller than Derek, caught up in a single stride, curiosity eating him alive.
“Where are we going?” Jonas asked. Ahead of them, a set of velvet curtains framed a dark passage that led God-knew-where.
Just within that curtain stood a young, slender man with the most ethereal face Jonas had ever seen. With white-blond hair, blue eyes, and fair, unblemished skin, he looked like some kind of fallen angel. And fallen he must be, for no angel should be found in a place like this. He watched them with a coy smile, one hand braced on his hip.
The smirk on Derek’s lips turned wicked as he gestured down the corridor. “Someplace private, as you suggested.”
Something within Jonas rebelled against the idea of going past these curtains. The sounds emanating from the passage were distinct, making Jonas’ cock twitch in his breeches. The sounds of sinful, unbridled pleasures.
Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he pushed his reservations aside and followed Derek into the darkness.
Derek traded glances with Giles,the nubile young molly who was quite a favorite at Perdition. With his angelic face, he did not have to work hard to gain the notice of the men who came here searching for a certain kind of sport. Being a man of good taste, Derek had taken advantage of the offerings of Giles’s slender, wiry body often, paying good coin for the experience just like everyone else. Outside of such exchanges, he and Giles were friendly acquaintances, no more invested in each other as one might be in the inner workings of a tea kettle. Over the years, Derek had enjoyed the company of any man of his choosing with no strings attached. It was one advantage of being attracted to his own sex, he supposed; there was no shortage of men who wanted a few hours of mindless pleasure before parting ways with no expectation that there might be more.
He had never wanted more from any of them … save for Jonas. The man in question minced down the corridor as if afraid he might wake someone who was deep asleep. But sleep was the last thing on the minds of the people behind these doors. Derek’s cock pulsed at the sounds reaching out at them from behind panels of polished wood. Moans and groans, muttered curses, the slapping of skin against skin. His blood raced toward his groin as he imagined being behind one of those doors, taking part in a senseless orgy of hedonistic pleasure.
The shadow of Jonas following him toward their destination reminded Derek of his purpose here. While he was known for indulging in excessive vice, he had lived like a monk for the past several months with the exception of the occasional card game. His body cried out for stimulation and release, but a deeper part of himself wanted something more.
It was during one of his nights of debauchery that Derek had realized he was bored. For weeks at a time, he had drowned himself in spirits, made risky wagers at the gaming tables, and fucked any man who showed the slightest bit of interest. He had thought himself having a grand time, surrendering to wild abandon with no care for the future or the past. However, one night Derek had rolled out of bed from between two sleeping lovers and stared into the fireplace, wondering why he still felt so hollow. It was as if he had tried to fill himself with the pleasures of the moment, only to realize that he was full of holes. Everything he put into himself leaked out, leaving him empty.
During a string of sleepless nights, Derek had found the time to ponder his circumstances. He sought his memories for a time in his life when he had been content. A time when he’d been hopeful and optimistic and—dare he think it? —happy. From his childhood until now, Derek had pondered various phases of his existence, searching for that missing piece. The thing that would fill the emptiness gaping wide within him.
