Page 1 of Raine
Prologue
What a fucking clusterfuck!
I wake up feeling like I’m burning up, caged between a redheaded female and two other men. How do I land myself in these situations?
Deep down, I know the answer to that question and why I find myself warming my bed with whatever sex or sexes I prefer at the time.
There is this unrelenting, gaping chasm that sits in the hollow of my chest, and there is no amount of dick or pussy that can fulfill the emptiness I feel every single fucking day.
I shake myself out of my pity party, crawl out from in between the mass of bodies, and grab my belongings. Thank Hades, Lucifer, or whoever the fuck is listening that I decided to hit the town after Justyce saved the Tartarus Mafia’s ass from his deranged father.
Draconis is tied down in the one place he never expected to land his sorry ass. I smile at the memory of watching him and Kenzi in the room with his dad, not that they knew I was there. The overbearing throbbing in my skull halts me from traveling down memory lane.
Shimmying back into the tight as fuck purple dress, I check my purse for my phone and wallet. My eyes wander to the table with lines of cocaine racked up and the magnetic pull is almost unbearable.
Turning my vision from the white powdered magic on the table — from the one thing that can drown my pity, shame, and insecurities out for a little while — I walk toward the door. My shoes are in my hand, and without a backward glance at the threesome lying naked in the bed, I leave.
My driver, Dallas, is already waiting at the front of the apartment block after I texted him five minutes ago.
Hopping in the back of the black limo, I’m surprised to be met with sad, cognac eyes. Arrow. Tears fall unceremoniously down my face as he opens his arms and I crawl into them.
I burrow into him, drinking in his familiar bergamot and whiskey scent. He’s my comfort, my security blanket, and I hate that I can’t give him what he needs or what he requires of me.
He breaks me from the carousel of fuckery swirling around in my head.
“What did you do this time, baby?” He doesn’t say it with malice or hatred. He says it with melancholy bleeding out of every inch of his being.
I look up and catch a glimpse of his messy, toffee-colored hair. It’s as if he’s spent the night running his fingers through the disheveled locks, or maybe it was someone else.
Jealousy surges to the surface, but I push it down. I don’t get to feel jealous, and I sure as hell don’t get to keep what was never meant to be mine. He wants to fix me, to love me, but you can’t fix what’s been broken for so long.
His eyes plead for me to invite him in, to welcome him into my chaotic fuckedupness. But I don’t. Instead, I shake my head, and he sighs in defeat.
The car starts rolling. He turns to the window and strokes my hair. I let him. The selfish bitch that I am allows him to comfort me, to glue back the shattered vase that I undeniably am.
There are only so many times you can glue a vase back together. And it never goes back the same. The worst part about the sticky, messy vase that I am is that each and every time it’s fused back together, I lose a sliver of the girl I used to be.
Slowly but surely, I’m forgetting who she is, and the reflection staring back at me in the mirror mocks me.
The shame never wins, though. Today I’ll allow Arrow to piece the fractured parts of me back together like the inconsiderate bitch I am. Tomorrow, I’ll find another willing body to help me forget the reasons I loathe myself.
It’s the reason I use sex to make myself feel that little bit better. The euphoric feeling of being wanted and desired — I hanker for it like a junkie does their next fix.
Even so, no one better paint me as a weakling because they’ll regret it.
I’m Raine Voroniva, princess of the Tartarus Mafia, and if anyone underestimates me, I’ll be sure to make an example of them by slitting their throats while they sleep.
Chapter1
Raine
The drive back to my dark, lonely mansion was filled with unsaid words and harsh truths that won’t ever be declared between Arrow and myself. He wants my love, my all, but that can never be, yet the selfish part of me keeps welcoming him back into my demented and poisonous hands. Just not today.
Arrow wanted to come home with me, but I just don’t have the energy or the mental capacity to humor him. My body feels as if it’s burning up, and my head feels like it’s going to fucking explode. I guess that’s what copious amounts of drugs and alcohol will do to a person.
Redirecting my thoughts from Arrow and our unorthodox relationship, I focus on my fuzzy head. Flashbacks from last night invade my mind, and I wonder how much I drank and snorted to have me feeling groggy and in desperate need of a line. I’m going to assume it was a lot.
Looking around my room, my eyes land on my gothic-colored space. It’s not as morbid andblackas Acheron’s, but nonetheless dark.
