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“I don’t let you in, Hades,” I say quietly, “because I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy, let alone my brother.” I shrug as I put a hand on his shoulder. “That doesn’t mean I don’t love you, though.”
I’ve just started to turn away when he stops me.
“I’ll take you to see Dante tomorrow night.”
My brow arches. “What makes you think I need a chaperone?”
“Because people like me, Deimos. You, however, scare people.”
I tilt my head. “And?”
“And, if memory serves, one of us voluntarily ended their membership at Club Venom.” He clears his throat as he leans close to my ear, patting me on the shoulder. “The other one was asked in no uncertain terms toleave.”
25
DEIMOS
Yeah.All things considered, it’s probably a good thing Hades is coming with me tonight. Which is precisely why I goaded him into insisting on coming in the first place, since my ego wouldn’t allow me to straight up ask him.
What? I can’t help it if I understand all too well the secret buttons to push on those around me as well as the inner workings of my own fucked up brain.
Something I’ve come to realize about my ownneurodivergence—fuck me, that word—is that it isn’t a disease, or a mutation. It’s simply a door my psyche has decided to push open that most other people leave shut.
Look closely at those around you—friends, family, lovers. If you look for it, you’ll know it when you see it: the way to push them and manipulate them. The way to pull the stringsjustenough to guide them wherever you want.
Most people don’t ever see these strings. And of the small percentage that do, almost none of them will have the certain makeup to pull or even towantto pull those strings.
And then there’s people like me.
The string pullers. The neurodivergent.
The psychopaths.
Hades being with me is indeed probably the only way I’ll get through the front door at Venom. He’s not wrong that while he gave up his membership here when he found Elsa, I wasasked—and not so indirectly, either—to turn mine in.
Which still irks me, even though I barely had an interest in this place in the brief time I was a member here before, and I certainly don’t now. It’s not my fault that a “kink club that caters to all deviant tastes” doesn’tactuallywant people ofalldeviant tastes.
Also, how the fuck was I supposed to know that the young woman I was…engaged with…in what I thought was a mutually agreed-upon chase around one of the private rooms was the niece of one of the club’s investors?
Both of us in black suits—Hades sans tie, me with—we check in with the concierge of Club Venom. From the outside, this place looks like nothing—just a warehouse in an unassuming neighborhood.
Inside, it’s a place dripping with broody opulence, where the devils and demons of New York City come to play. The dark and deviant. The rich and connected.
It’s notjustcriminal types that frequent the place. But like Knightsblood, it mostly is. And because of both the clientele and the activities that go on here, the masks are a mandatory part of the dress code.
The beautiful woman with long chestnut hair at the concierge desk, wearing a slinky black cocktail dress and a black, maroon, and gold carnival-style mask in the likeness of a cat smiles at us.
“Hades, so good to see you again.”
Given my brother’s former antics and proclivities, it’s a wonder this woman recognizes him without his dick out.
“I believe we’ve actually still got your old mask back here. If you’ll give me a second?”
“Of course, Kara.”
She slips into the back room. I raise a brow and suck my teeth without looking at Hades.
“It would seem you left a lasting impression onKara.”
