Page 72 of Soulless Deeds

“Funny. Pretty sure that sinister word you’re referring to has five letters, not four,” I said with a cocky sneer. Spencer mentally tallied my find, her expression turning sour. Pissed off, she turned to leave, and I was having none of that.

I growled, leaning down so I could whisper in her ear. “I swear, Spen?—”

“Oh, you’re using your angry voice. Will you spank me for being a naughty girl?”

“I just might,” I replied, biting down on her neck on instinct, her sweet voice rewarding me with a moan.

Spencer looked up, her expression luring me in until my lips were an inch away from hers. “Fuck. You,”she said, tearing out of my hold.

Remi took the opportunity and grabbed her hand, leading her away. She followed, departing without a single look my way, and I swear, I was about to fucking kill him.

As I went to charge after them, I was bodychecked by Pretty Boy Tanner, his hard chest ricocheting against mine, making me lose focus of my target.

“You keep pushing, and she’ll kill you,” he said, pointedly glancing at the fresh blood staining my shirt, failing to hide my injury beneath.

“She tried and failed,” I said, and he shook his head like I was the dumbest person in the room. “What’s with the warning anyway? Are you worried about little old me?” I mocked.

“If you die, it’s not you I worry about,” he said, so low, I almost missed it. His tirade was cut short by a pretty brunette who pulled on his arm, coercing him to dance with her. Tanner stood rigid, the least bit inclined to touch this woman, who didn’t seem to catch the hint. The smooth, dark skin of hisface began to crack at the seams, his unbothered mask showing glimpses of the grim reaper beneath.

Then, Emerson popped in from nowhere, wrenched the girl's fingers back and hissed in her face. No way to misinterpret that delivery, the woman scurried away in a flash.

I was on autopilot, my feet leading me away from the Kings. I wanted to destroy something—anything—as the newfound ache in my chest only grew with each step that led me away from her.

The worst part? I had no fucking right to the way I was feeling. All I’d done over the past couple of days was ruminate on all she’d said.

Spencer is right. I was a coward, a gutless pussy, an emotionally damaged man-child. Proved by the scathing words I carelessly threw at her. Which were all fucking lies, born and bred from my own demons.

And with my tainted past and toxic barbs, I hadn’t just pushed her away; I’d practically shoved her into another man’s arms.God, I am the worst idiot.

Regret wasn’t an emotion I was familiar with, but I’d give anything to rewind time and take it all back. To do it all differently, and utter that one word she so desperately sought from me.

Alas, the enlightenment came entirely too late.

My need for escape was binding, however, I couldn’t bring myself to leave without knowing she was safe. If I couldn’t have her, I’d settle for being her protection in whatever way possible.

So, like the masochist moron I was, I remained in the main stimulation room. Pivoting for the flight of stairs to the VIParea, I sought a private space to drown all my worries with the euphoric high only Vice could provide.

The entire elevated platform was booked and busy, teeming with the best that JC had to offer, money and power roiling the air. One could empty their guts and wipe their soiled face with hundred dollar bills.

I came to a halt in front of the most exclusive booth we had on offer, the location providing a clean sweep of the room. An upstart male sat front and centre, holding court amongst the sycophants who fawned over his washboard abs and sparkling blue eyes. He looked familiar, yet I couldn’t picture where from—my thoughts entirely somewhere else, not that it mattered.

Jumping on the centre table, I swiped the tube connected to the gas cylinder, toking hard on the end. Smoke barraged my lungs, and a rush of stimulating high spiked my veins, infecting my head with a delighted haze.

All my troubles drifted away with my sobriety.

The teenage wannabes looked up at me with intoxicated shock. My attention zeroed in on the ringleader, knowing the others would follow behind. “Scram!”

The black-haired, blue-eyed twat jumped to his feet. “DO YOU KNOW WHO I?—"

His statement cut short due to the loaded gun I aimed between his eyes. “I won’t ask again,” I said, letting a hint of my Variant filter through.

A tall, slender male, just as good looking, tugged on his arm. “Alexander, come on.”

“I’d listen to your boyfriend,Alexander.”

Blue eyes lingered on my weapon as he contemplated the probability of beating my ass. I didn’t know whether to take that as courage or stupidity, but with my current mood, it would be the worst night to test those odds.

Alexander was smarter than he appeared, shepherding his crew to spread across the remainder of the VIP area, leaving my booth deserted except for the copious drugs and alcohol splayed over the table. They had expensive taste—the only thing I was thankful for that night.

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