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My eyes fell on his blood-soaked shirt, and I bit my lip, working through my options. It was either that or nothing. I had a feeling that Samael would have a hard-on either way once I made it to the basement steps.
Here goes nothing.
I ignored Dark’s wariness and Daemon’s amused acceptance of the boldness I had exhibited.
SAMAEL
Our usual dynamic had shattered with Killian’s presence, not just because of Friday night but the general stress that came with bringing another unstable entity into our group. Aeron, Slash, and I had grown up together. We were thick as thieves, and while we loved Killian and his alters wholeheartedly, he had thrown our routines for a loop. Worse, we all processed change differently. Aeron had his little food truck closed more often than not in the last forty-eight hours. What he did with his free time was beyond me, but I imagined it couldn’t be anything good. Or legal.
Slash had disappeared in the way he did before a killing. I was both waiting for a call and hoping he’d wander back into the house without needing to kill another poor soul. Unlikely, but one could hope. It didn’t help that Slash had been killing himself, working longer hours and all but moving into Aeron’s place and claiming the couch. For a bunch of ruthless men who had terrified an entire city for the better part of three years, our A-game was slipping.
My attention turned back to Killian, who had made his way over to me. That fucking kid was going to be the death of me. I reached down to massage my cock, absentmindedly, feeling it grow and harden in my hands. Swimming in my shirt was one thing, but covered in that man’s blood, smears of our forbidden activities across his chin and legs, made me want to finish what I had started.
Killian smirked and stepped closer, dropping to his knees, his eyes never leaving mine. “I can help with that.” His tongue jutted out, licking the tip as I thrust forward, my dick slipping between his lips as he moaned in acceptance.
I mustered up enough strength to step back, stuffing myself back into my pants and pulling him to his feet before pushing him toward the steps without another word. When he tried to turn and protest, I glared at him, hoping he would understand.
Killian didn’t fight me, but I could see I had all but satisfied the lust in his eyes. Denying him wasn’t doing him any favors. Or us. Fucking hell, we were all in for a rough ride if this was the Killian we were dealing with because, as much as I didn’t want to believe it, I had fucked Killian. Not Dark. Not Daemon. Killian.
The mess behind me called out to me as I left thoughts of Killian on the back burner. The clean-up was one of my favorite parts of my job—strangely enough. The screams and moans as the lights went out in their eyes was one thing, but knowing that I had succeeded, that the despair from moments before had been punished and discarded—that was everything.
My phone rang on a nearby counter, but I didn’t move to answer it, knowing that there could be only one person behind that call. Chief Matthews had been calling incessantly, wanting updates on the case I wasn’t even investigating. I had gotten this far, shielding us and our activities from the law, but it was only a matter of time before the public discovered who we were, and our existence began to crumble.
The phone rang again, and I chucked it against the wall before returning to the clean-up. Chief Matthews could wait. I’d create some elaborate lie, and he’d believe it. I just wondered how much longer that would work.
SLASH
I hated the moments after surgery the most, the moments I had to spend with the patient’s family, producing my charming smile and offering a gentle bedside manner foreign to my soul. As Dr. God Hands, I was afforded some leniency in my rough tone, but the moment the family exited my office, my smile disappeared, and the darkness resurfaced. It was like discarding a coat after experiencing the winter chill, that shuddering sigh of relief as warmth settled into your bones.
A little dramatic? Sure, but it was true.
The human aspect of this job was the part I hated most and yet the most crucial if I was to keep up this ruse as someone with a heart of gold who enjoyed saving people. The reality was that I needed an outlet, and sometimes slicing flesh, no matter where it happened, was enough to scare away the demons in my head.
The kill two nights ago had been satisfying at the moment, slowly stripping David of his humanity until his last breath, but it hadn’t been enough.
Today, I needed a little more, my left hand quivering at my side. I stared at it for a few seconds, pondering my options, until Niles burst into my room, ready to congratulate me for another successful surgery. With the first glance of his wild smile, I knew entertaining him wasn’t on the agenda. I shook my head and slipped past him, ignoring his calls for me to return. I noted that Niles, the most carefree guy in the hospital, was wearing a suit as I texted Aeron to meet for coffee. Outside of scrubs, Niles rarely dressed up, and the gray pinstripe attire seemed a little out of character for him.
Ignoring that, I dialed the one person who could provide a much-needed distraction – Aeron. Five minutes later, I was headed to Dream Cream, a café just at the edge of Primrose. Aeron hadn’t sounded any better on the phone than I had felt, so I hoped this short outing would do well for both of us.
Wind chimes announced my arrival as I pushed through the wooden door, dimmed yellow lights hanging over each table. Scents of fresh pastries and meat pies met my nose, and a light chatter spread throughout Dream Cream, adding to its ambiance. This had never been one of my go-to spots, but I understood exactly why Aeron had fallen in love with this place, what with the worn booths lined up along the wall paired with the thick aroma of artisan espresso and fresh pastries. Several tables sat in the open space, the dark wood adding to the relaxing ambiance that came with the dim lights. Add in the beast of a man that could rival Samael standing behind the counter, and it was the perfectly cozy hole-in-the-wall café. Caramel skin, a buzz cut, and muscles for days moved effortlessly, serving customers as I found Aeron and slid into the booth. His attention snagged on my arrival, lingering a little longer than appropriate as I tried to swallow the inkling that I knew him. I squeezed Aeron’s leg under the table, trying to reassure him that things would be okay.
I didn’t fucking know that. I didn’t even believe it. But Aeron needed to.
Aeron was stuffed into his usual leather jacket but he was twisting a ring on his right pointer finger that I hadn’t seen since high school. He never told us where he had gotten it from or if he had found it. The sentiment that the piece of metal held was beyond me but it brought comfort to my anxious lover. I just wished I knew why. His sea-green eyes had dulled to an almost gray as he threw me a small smile to show that he was okay.
He was anything but okay.
My loveable cannibal wasn’t his usual full-of-life self that drew people in. He looked so out of touch, uncomfortable even. I had mentioned Dream Cream as a place to unwind, knowing full well that both of us needed a moment away from the chaos that had dropped into our laps. Aeron had been adamant about dragging Killian back to his house after that moment Friday night, but I knew that would have been a horrible idea.
The history they shared was working against them. Not only did Samael know him the least, but he also had way more control over his emotions, and he was a fucking police officer. They had honor codes and shit.
Though Brent had relayed the info that Samael had gone through a handful of guys each night until they were dead. It was worrisome, but at least it was controlled. After all, I had killed a guy hours after Killian had scared the fuck out of us, so I couldn’t really blame Samael for flying off the handle as well.
Aeron hadn’t seen Killian since that night, shaken that his first and only real love could be stolen from him by the kid’s own mind. I could see the despair in his eyes. I was watching a cannibal fall apart at the hands of our crazy Kitten. Fuck if I wasn’t unraveling a little too.
Aeron hadn’t touched his coffee, but I hadn’t expected him to. The man avoided food like the plague during times like this. Any and all food. I knew full well that Jenny’s lungs were still sitting untouched in his fridge, and they would continue to sit there until Samael or I discarded them.
“Why’d you call?” he mumbled. “You think just because I run a food truck that I can just close up at any time?” The usual joking tone to his voice was absent.
