Thank you, creepy voice.
I always knew the voice was mine, even when I tried to deny it, it’s just a… darker side. The one that knows my deepest desires and only erupts from its tight containment in times of need. But I’ll be in control tonight, I won’t lose myself to my darkness. And without words, I know my smaller voice agrees.
Because earlier, when I held a small pair of scissors to my throat, pressing the tiny tip against my pulse. My darkness didn’t stop me.
Was it fucked up that I was purposefully marking myself? Absolutely. But would it make Julien furious to see a mark on my body, in the place he intended to mark, knowing there’s nothing he can do about it?
Yes.
The scratch was quick, minute, a few droplets formed but not enough to fall. Anyone else would miss the small, angryred line, but he won’t. My scent will be that tad stronger and knowing that, psychotically, makes me and my darkness preen.
As for Sai, the one who, as Julien so poetically stated, indulged the most, I’ve planned something more. My power will be all over him. Relentlessly. Physically, in the form of invisible coils no one else can see. Subliminally, with the dark amethyst silk of my blouse, almost identical to the hue of our conjoined powers.
I may have left an extra button open, just enough to reveal a thin silver chain that hints at something connected to the end.
That would be another surprise.
For Ezekial, a less invasive mind-fuck. A skirt.
Kacey and I had searched through all the gifted clothes for this one item. Similar to the one I wore when he called me beautiful. But shorter, tighter, almost a little too revealing. I’ll never wear it anywhere else, but he doesn’t need to know that.
But for Kane… I’m stumped. He’s never shown much interest in any of my physical attributes. Not that I remember, except… A memory flickers to life, his gaze latching briefly onto my legs, to the thin reveal of thigh above my knee-high boots.
It was the first time we ever met.
Bare legs it is.
Now dressed, I’m pacing my room in heels as I rehearse my performance. Because if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s perform. You had to when you worked in a club like The Inferno. My walk, my voice, every micro expression—all perfected. This will be no different.
Every pause. Every word. Every look.
I’ll ensure I hold all the power in that room. I’ll show them how much of a manipulator I can be. And this is the first step, making them wait. I won’t be late, but I won’t be early. I’ll arrive a second before the exact time that I’ve allocated. Because my time is valuable and I wait for no one.
At 10:29 PM, I flit into Ezekial’s waiting room, and feel them immediately.
It’s minimal, dimmed, reduced enough that my darkness doesn’t strike out, only curls around me. Wary, hungry, but not starving.
They’re suppressing their powers, just like I did at The Inferno. But it’s not to hide, it’s to lessen the impact on me.
How sweet of them.
I adjust my necklace, laying the chain flat and ensuring the small rock rests snug between the swell of my breasts. My fingers tighten around the vial in my palm, thumb circling the warm glass. I roll my head left, then right, loosen my shoulders, and let my coils slip free, unfurling around me in a slow, shadowy trail.
We’re ready.
This is just like entering level six of the club, facing powerful beings with unclear intentions whilst hiding my own.
I release a thread of power and push open one of the doors. As I pass over the threshold, every fibre of my being screams at me to look at them. But I don’t.
I waste time, their time, casting pointless glances around the room, the one I stood in only this morning. I inspect every corner like I’m searching for threats—or exits. Anything to make them think I’m unsettled, that I’ll leave at the first disagreement, that they should be careful.
When I finally turn towards them, I take slow, measured steps into the meeting room. My eyes stay low, nowhere near their faces, focused on the long table. They’re all standing behind a chair, their hands clasping the tops, and it’s clear there’s one chair they’ve purposefully left empty.
My heels click sharply against the marble floor as I move to stand behind it. One controlled, fluid step at a time.
Only then, standing at the head of the table, do I look up.
“Fucking. Hell.”Sai.
