“Yeah, she will. Because you’re going to be your usual cocky, stubborn bastard self while groveling like your life depends on it. So snap out of it.”
I clear my throat while stepping back. “I should go shower.”
Showing this much vulnerability would normally embarrass me, but Malik and I…we go way back. He was one of the many dark creatures the Kabal had kidnapped. When he almost killed one of the scientists who experimented on him, they locked him up in a cell next to mine—in the pitch-black dungeon. For an entire year, he witnessedeverything. Not only the torture my scumbag father inflicted on me, but also the horrible things he made me do. Things that still haunt me to this day. Things I equally despised and took pleasure from. Which, in turn, made me hate myself even more. Because they only proved he was right—I am a monster. The blood on my hands runs so deep it could turn an entire ocean crimson.
“Okay. I’ll make sure the meat sack doesn’t die, then put him back in his cell.”
“I’m moving the Conclave meeting. I can’t. Not tonight. Please let Dominic and Logan know,” I tell him.
He nods. I lumber toward the door. Once I’m on the otherside, where the wards Malik put in place don’t hinder me, I tap into the angelic power that allows me to travel across space and distance, and teleport into my penthouse. I inhale a shuddering breath to fill my lungs with her lingering scent—sunshine, linden blossoms, and an undertone of something sensual, decadent. It only intensifies the hollow space beneath my ribcage where my beating organ used to be. Because she took it with her.
Her absence cleaves me in two. I can’t even look at the couch as I make a beeline to the fridge for a water bottle. The memory of Iris straddling my lap and the way she melted into me as I devoured her mouth still flashes through my mind, though. It’s bittersweet agony. Because for the first time in eight years, I held happiness in the palms of my hands, and like sand, it slipped right through my fingers.
Fuck. I sound like a limped dick motherfucker.
Malik is right. I need to put an end to this pity party. Because she is mine. To love. To possess. To give pleasure to. To break. To put back together. And I am hers in the same way. Every single broken, scarred piece of me belongs to Iris. After all, she was the one who stitched me back together with her light. I’ll give her some space because she needs it. That doesn’t mean I won’t be watching. Waiting. And when the time comes, she will accept it because there’s no way I’m letting Iris go again.
Not after holding her in my arms.
Not after tasting her lips.
Not after she gave herself so beautifully to me.
Even if I’m condemning both of our souls to an eternity of damnation. I can almost feel my demon half smiling and saying,fucking finally. If I thought I was obsessed with her before, it pales in comparison to how I crave hernow—with an intensity that borders on insanity. Who the fuck am I kidding? I have not only skirted that line but flung myself over the edge of the jagged cliff at lightning speed. I’ll gladly meet the bottom, impalemyself on her hatred, and crawl for any crumb she throws my way if it means she will let me into her life again.
As I finish gulping the water, my phone starts ringing. I pull it out of my back pocket to check the screen. I know she wouldn’t call, not this soon anyway. But I can’t stop letting myself hope. That spark fizzles out in the next second.
It’s Grayson.
“Where the fuck is my grandson?” he seethes, venom dripping from his tone.
I take my sweet time as I twist the cap back on, then chuck the empty bottle in the bin beneath the sink. “Who is this?” I pretend not to know, partly because I’m beyond tired of arrogant lightborn who believe their blessed blood grants them license to treat dark creatures however they please, and partly because I enjoy toying with him. “I think you have the wrong number.”
“This is Grayson. The head of the Ashville Order. Now answer me. Where. Is. My. Grandson?” he spews.
“How should I know a lightborn’s whereabouts? Ah. My apologies. I haven’t taken into consideration that at your advanced age, things can get a little…murky. Maybe you have forgotten that I am, after all, the leader of the Obsidian Conclave and such matters do not concern me,” I drawl.
My bored tone only serves to grate on his nerves further. “I tracked his phone. I know he was in your filthy club Saturday night. He vanished right after.”
“Which club are you exactly referring to? I own several across the world.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. It’s the one in the Raven district—Sin.”
“Sin can hold up to a thousand people, and since opening, partygoers have filled it to capacity. My responsibilities within the Conclave don’t involve babysitting the club’s clientele.”
“Stop pussyfooting around and tell me where the fuck is hebefore I destroy your entire organization.”
“Hmm. So, your grandson broke the lightborn’s number one rule by entering an establishment not only owned by an Elite demon but also filled to the brim with dark creatures, and somehow I am to blame for it?” I let out a dry laugh. Then my tone turns deadly serious. I don’t know if Grayson is aware his piece of shit grandson was a lowlife rapist and possibly a serial killer, but I can’t stop myself. “Tell me, Grayson, does the Aureal Council know about your grandson’s nighttime activities? I imagine they wouldn’t be too happy if they did.”
He ignores my question, swearing sharply under his breath. “You have by noon tomorrow to hand over the security footage from Saturday night and surrender your employees to interrogation.”
Power is a curious, fickle thing. An addictive mirage. Grant it to a weak-willed man, and they will get drunk on the first drop. While it’s a heady feeling, it can be more treacherous than a siren who lures a sailor to their death. After all, Grayson is no more than a cog in a wheel. Even if he is the head of the Order in Ashville, he can’t lift a finger without all the Aureal Council members’ approval. I thoroughly enjoy bringing him down a peg as I say, “I think I missed the Council’s letter about an official investigation. Maybe it was lost in the mail. Or maybe you are trying to strong-arm me. As low as you think dark creatures are, we don’t answer to you—Idon’t answer to you.”
“Mark my words, demon. This is not over.” He ends the call.
I shake my head as I ascend the stairs to the second floor. As convenient as it is to pop around at whim, I like to walk when I need to think. Grayson’s call was only a desperate bluff; he doesn’t want the Council to know his grandson broke the rules. A head of the Order trying to push me around with an inflated ego is nothing short of laughable. Not only do I have years of experience dealing with the Council and their crooked ways, butI have built an entire empire on cutthroat deals and intimidation tactics. And his was weak as fuck.
He didn’t mention anything about Iris, which tells me he doesn’t know she was at Sin—I saw to that by having my hackers pin her phone’s location at Samantha’s house for the entirety of that night. I also don’t think Erik showed him the photos he took of us. Grayson would have surely used those as leverage, if that were the case. My steps falter when I cross my bedroom’s threshold. Her scent is more concentrated here. I inhale sharply to trap it into my lungs and teleport inside the bathroom before my mind decides to torture me with the passionate moments we spent in my bed. The best day of my life—not because she gave her body entirely to me, but her soul. I’ve never felt more at peace. More complete. It was utter bliss. A rapturous dance of frenzied heartbeats and future promises.
