Page 39 of The Devils Melody
Lennox snorts under his breath and I grin. I knew I could get that uptight bastard to crack.
“You know I’m keeping a list, right?” Jimmy mutters. “There’s an actual document. It’s titled ‘Ways Kage Disrespects Me on a Cellular Level.’”
“Be sure to italicize ‘cellular’,” I say. “Give it some flair.”
“Jesus,” Jimmy sighs. “Anyway, yeah, I’ve got something. But it’s weird.”
“That’s your love language,” I mutter. “Telling us weirdshit. But go on.” I can practically hear Jimmy's eyes roll through the phone, causing me to smile. I’ve been pissing in Jimmy’s cheerios for years, and it never gets old. I don’t think it ever will. He’s too easy to piss off.
“I pulled Richard’s financial records. It wasn’t easy, but I managed to get a peek. He’s been pulling out cash. Lots of it. Always under ten grand and from different branches. There’s no real pattern, but it’s consistent. Like he’s prepping for something.”
Lennox turns towards the desk, interest flaring. “How recent?”
“Last two weeks. And get this. He’s been making trips out to some busted up property headed south off I-5. Real middle of nowhere type shit. Looks abandoned.”
“What’s out there?” I ask.
“Not much, mainly just mountains,” Jimmy says. “But the buildings in some guy's name. Donnie. That’s all I’ve got for now. First name only. Records are messy as hell.”
“Donnie?” I repeat, eyebrows lifting. “Who the fuck is Donnie? And what kind of name is Donnie anyways?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said. Could be nothing. Could be something. I found a few old records with the guy's name tied to them, but without a last name, we can’t be sure.”
“Send me all you’ve got,” Lennox says. “And keep digging. I want to know who Donnie is and why Dick’s sniffing around his property.”
“You got it.” Jimmy answers, before the line goes dead and I watch Lennox stiffen at the window, his eyes fixated to the floor below him. What the fuck is he looking at?
I follow his line of sight until I see her.
Wren.
Walking through the crowd, owning it as if it’s her kingdom. Not yet, it isn’t, but I’ll gladly hand her the reins.Her hair is down in loose curls, her lips are painted red, and she’s got on a little black dress that hugs her body like a second skin.
I go still, my cock already growing hard just from looking at her.
She’s not looking up, or even looking for us, which is fucked. Considering the last time I saw her, she was riding my fingers, desperate to wring every last drop of pleasure from me, moaning my name with zero fucking shame about who heard. Then she vanished out of nowhere.
Now, she’s out at a club, dressed like that, acting as if none of that ever happened. She’s really going to pretend we’re not buried under her skin the way she’s buried under ours. Can she not fuckingfeelus here, watching her every move?
“Fuck,” Lennox mutters, already pushing off the glass. He doesn’t need to say anything, I already know what he’s thinking. She fucking belongs to us, and right now, all eyes are on her. We can’t have that.
I follow behind him before I even realize it. We head for the upstairs VIP lounge that overlooks the dance floor. It’s where the rich assholes sit and watch the desperate grind themselves into sweat soaked oblivion. Tonight, though, it’s where we watchher.
We slide into the center booth, the one with the best view and built specifically for us, as the waitress brings us our usual drinks. Dead center of the dance floor, hips swaying to the beat, arms lifted above her head and offering herself to the music, is our girl. She’s not alone, her friends are dancing all around her, but no one’s touching her. Not yet.
We sit there, watching her until her rhythm falters. Her movements are slow and intentional, proof she finally feelsus in the room. Like I knew she would. The smoke around her frame makes her seem ethereal, as if she was from another world entirely. Her gaze climbs the stairs, sweeping across the second floor, already knowing exactly where we are. Then it lands right on me, like a fucking bullet.
Wren’s eyes are wide, her lips moving to the lyrics of the song like the little songbird she is. I don’t move or even dare to blink, worried that I’ll miss even a second of her moving her body, already knowing exactly how to please us. I just sit here, hard as a fucking rock, with my arm slung across the back of the booth. One hand is still wrapped around my glass, the other resting on my thigh, watching her like I’ve been starving for weeks. A single week without her already feels like a lifetime, and I’m ready to feast.
Nox doesn’t say a word beside me, but I can feel the energy rolling off him in waves. His jaw locks when Wren’s eyes flick to his, holding his gaze in challenge. No one has ever looked at him the way she is, other than me.
Wren starts to dance again, but it’s different now. This isn’t for fun. This is for show, to taunt us. Her spine curves, her hips rolling with each beat. The red light bathes her skin, a wicked little offering meant for the devil's altar, and we are her devils, ready to burn for her. She’s moving like she’s imagining our hands on her, and fuck me, I wish I was on the floor right now, dragging her onto my lap so she remembers exactly who she’s tempting.
Then I see someone's hands at her waist. Some guy behind her, trying his fucking luck.
Lennox and I are on our feet at the same time. A slow, cold pulse of rage courses through me, and all I can picture now is his blood seeping into my skin and his teeth scattered across the floor. It’s not just jealousy. It’s far deeper than that. Darker. It’s the bone deep urge to erase him. Tocarve him out of existence. Becauseno onefucking touches whatbelongs to me.
Even if she doesn’t wear my name, at least not yet, I feel it in my fucking marrow. She’smeantto be ours. One way or another, shewillbe aMonroe.
