I feel like I’m to blame for something I had no control over, and I don’t know how to process it. I’m the reason my dad didn’t grieve like he should have. I mean, fuck, it is my fault she’s dead.
I shake my head to get the useless thoughts out, so I can focus on the important shit. “I need your help. You know the club better than I do. Who can I trust? Who can help me? Witches, shifters?” I ask, wondering who would be best at tracking.
Salvador understands exactly why I chose those two species. “No spell can be scried to find him, not that you could trust the witches anyway, and I don’t know if the scent thing will work either, but it’s worth a shot. Sabastian, the road captain, is a good tracker, so start there.” Sal runs his teeth over his bottom lip and lets out a sigh before he adds, “He’s been spending some time with Modeus. You should talk to him.”
There’s a loud rapping on the thick wooden door. I turn my head slowly to examine the entrance, as if I might know who would dare to intrude.
I choose to ignore the infraction for now and tell Salvador, “He hasn’t been here long, and he only got a cut last year, but Harlow seemed to trust him.” I don’t have to include the why for Salvador to answer.
“They had some personal shit between them, but your dad’s never been wrong about knowing who to put his faith in.”
The door bangs again, louder this time. “Put his faith in?” I question his wording, considering we’re talking about a prince of Hell, as I stomp over to the door and jerk it open, ready to snap someone’s neck.
“It’s been five minutes,” he says in a deep, silky voice. The wind gets knocked from my sails just from hearing him speak.
I’m fairly tall, nearly six feet, yet standing this close to him, I’m eye level with his neck. Beautiful golden markings peek out from the collar of his simple black shirt and trail up to his chiseled jaw, leaving swirls of gray skin exposed where it doesn’t touch. I’ve never been this close to him, and for good reason.
He’s probably the most attractive person I’ve ever seen, but he’s also the physical embodiment of lust, which is a dangerous combination. I doubt he even has to use whatever abilities he possesses to get anyone to succumb to his allure. Many have died for the chance.
“Speak of the devil.”
“And he shall appear,” Modeus finishes.
CHAPTER2
Modeus
The sigilover the center of my chest aches. Even though I was expecting her arrival, it still makes my heart pump faster and my dick throb.
The first time I laid eyes on her, I thought she could only be the female version of myself, and I got the first real taste of what my victims must experience—I was needy to the point of pain, desperate for a single glance, and willing to do anything for a touch. My markings shifted painfully with my next breath, and my soul had been traded to another.
Hell no longer held power over me. I now had a new master who didn’t even seem to know I existed, yet owned me all the same. I had abashert,a soulmate.
I’d never felt more betrayed in my life, and considering that my brothers are literal Hell spawn, that’s saying something. Then she glanced at me with eyes that looked to be honed from the purest citrine, as burnished as the markings on my flesh, and the only betrayal I felt was that she’d been kept from me before that moment.
A heavy hand on my shoulder was the only thing that stopped me from going to her right then. When I turned to see who would dare touch me, I found Harlow, her father, and later, my first friend. The fact that he had abashertand lost her made him immune to the effects of my skin. He’d already known true love, and that trumped my lust.
When she pushes through the front door, every head turns in her direction. She has no idea why she’s been summoned, but there’s already an air of unease surrounding her. Without a word, she strolls through the club as if she owns it, and in truth, she already does, she just doesn’t know it yet.
I wish I had faith that her father will return, but I know nothing would keep him away unless it was death.
She moves with the grace of flowing water, and when she wraps her wings around Reaper, poised to kill him with an efficiency my brother, Prince of Wrath, would envy, she’s as deadly as a tsunami.
It’s the first time I’ve seen her in her true form. I’m not sure if my awe filled utterance is swallowed by the sounds around me, but I’m past caring. She is magnificent. A wave of agony crashes over me as my markings shift again. I clench my teeth as what feels like molten lava flows under my skin, leaving behind more proof of her ownership.
As the pain ebbs, I look down to see bands around my wrist, the barbed edges matching the angular points trailing down my chest and shoulders.
When she spins to face the present members of the Obsidian Angels, her eyes catch mine as if she were seeking me out. I hold her stare as tiny bubbles of desire fizzle to the surface like fragmented pieces of electricity dancing on my skin, tempting me to get closer.
Watching her disappear behind the door with the demon nearly shreds my calm. I could rip his sorry excuse for horns off and shove the things down his throat, and he would beg me to do it again.
I should be back there with her. I break away from the others and stand near the door to Harlow’s office. Her sadness is seeping past the soundproofed room, making it nearly impossible for me not to demolish the fucking door to get to her.
After exactly five minutes, I bang my fist on the wood. This isn’t how I planned our first introduction, but I can’t stand another second of her pain. Ten seconds more, and I knock harder.
I don’t step back when the door is ripped open, which means she’s only inches away from me when she mutters, “Speak of the devil.” The air leaving her lips falls over my skin like ambrosia dripping from the heavens, sending a riot of gooseflesh over my neck and down my back.
“And he shall appear,” I manage to say in a voice so smoky, I bet half the people in the club are feeling the effect Lorelei has on me. I feel drunk on lust and dizzy with the need to touch her, to please her.
