Page 1 of A Dance With Devils
PROLOGUE
Malachi
Watching the soft sway of New York’s finest courtesans trying to tempt me into fucking is becoming unbearable. Why she thought this would be an interesting night out is beyond me. It isn’t. It’s nothing more than the average we live in every day, with only one exception to the usual rule – she’s bored me to near deathlike proportions this time. Maybe I should take a little red pill and let that pull me into corners I haven’t visited for a while. She’d like that. She’d see it as exhilarating. And then she’d cry and weep for her husband’s demise, showing the pretence of a wife in mourning, until, eventually, after the cars and funeral processions were over, she’d be able to laugh.
The sigh that drops from my lips is louder than I expected given the reasonably good mouth around my dick. I look down at the blonde hair in my lap, tracing my eyes over the pallid skin, and then push her off me so I can stand and leave. Why all blondes? They’re always blondes. Her presents to me are supposed to be reminiscent of her, I suppose. Fine limbs and attractive features. Wide mouths, true beauty, timeless elegance. None of these are one bit like her. She’s – malicious. It’s something I used to find attractive.
Still do if I’m honest enough with myself.
I grab my jacket from the stand and weave through the corridors until I’m into the male equivalent of the room I’ve just left. She’s not in it, unsurprisingly. Probably as bored with the thought of them as I am. So I turn and head out into the gardens, slipping on my sunglasses to ward off the spring glare hanging low in the sky, and find her swinging aimlessly on one of the hammocks.
“Are you bored?” she calls.
“Very.”
“Was she that awful?”
“Yes.”
She turns onto her side to look at me, eyes peering over her own sunglasses. “What are we going to do with you?”
“Divorce?”
She giggles. “Never.”Bitch.
She was my match once, my mate. The only one who managed to counter every game I played in my younger years. Well bred. Presented well enough. Even my father liked her enough to give his consent on marriage regardless of Mother’s disapproval. The fact that he fucked my wife to be the night before our wedding was neither here nor there as far as he was concerned. It was just another check of his. Another way to make sure that the Jones name would move forward with the correct gene pool inserted – his or mine. Laughable. She’ll never produce an heir.
Wouldn’t then, and refuses to now.
Luckily, I couldn’t give a damn for the thought either.
And we don’t fuck anyway.
“You couldn’t afford a divorce Malachi. You know it as well as I do. Not since your father’s death. A wrong move on your part.”
I walk over and slide onto the hammock with her, wrapping her legs over mine until we’re comfortable and staring at each other. “I could kill you.”
“You could. That would be a good game.”
“And preferable to fucking you.”
“Low blow. I’m quite good at fucking.”
My head leans back, eyes closing as I bask in the rays. “It’s been so long, I barely remember.”
“Your choice. I never refused you.”
My brow arches, head twisting side to side to ease the ache of boredom. “My father’s cock in your cunt made the chore irreconcilable after it.”
“But I wouldn’t be married without it.”
“If I’d have known, you wouldn’t have been married at all.”
She sighs and moves herself, one finger trailing my leg as she gets her drink and offers one to me. “Poor Malachi. Still pining for the past.”
“Not pining for it,” I snarl. “Regretting it.”
“I’m wounded. All the things I let you get up to and one fuck was enough to finish us?”
