Page 43 of Angel I Am Not

That was probably for the best. I looked down at Dante’s message again, the words carrying a lot more weight than they had when they first appeared on my screen. I should have been terrified at the thought of walking into another bond, another demon, another part of myself I didn’t understand yet. Instead, curiosity kept pushing through everything else. Heaven would have told me to run from all of it.

I wasn’t in Heaven anymore.

Beelzebub

Nothing ever felt like enough.

Food. Sex. Noise. Attention. Whatever the fuck caught my interest, I wanted more of it. That was the problem with being Gluttony. Satisfaction didn’t shut anything off. Half the time it only made the hunger worse because once I knew how good something could feel, taste, sound, or fucking look, I wanted another hit.

Then another.

Then one more because apparently I had no concept of quitting while I was ahead.

Dante knew that better than anyone, which was probably why the asshole had stationed me at Pink Flamingo.

The club was excess wrapped in neon. Expensive liquor flowed behind the bar all night, sugary cocktails sweated over tabletops, and plates of greasy food moved through the crowd while perfume, sweat, and sex clung to the air. Bodies packed the dance floor until there was barely room to move, people spent money they didn’t have, drank past the point of good judgment, and kept reaching for whatever came next.

It should have been torture.

Sometimes it was.

Most nights, I actually liked it.

Working security meant I got the noise and the crowd without having to drown myself in either. I could watch people gorge themselves on whatever vice they had chosen for the night and practice not joining them. Dante called that control.

I called it being surrounded by everything good and told not to fucking touch it.

Still, bouncing wasn’t half as bad as I had expected.

Except for the occasional entitled little shit who walked into the club like he owned the place.

Tonight’s problem had barely made it past twenty-one if I had to guess, his smug smile and constant winks toward one of the VIP tables telling me he thought the rope was decorative. I had already pushed him back twice, once with a hand against his chest and the second time with a warning that should have been obvious enough.

Apparently not.

The night dragged on, mostly uneventful, while he worked his way through one drink after another and tried to charm a group of bridesmaids settled inside the section I was guarding. Every time I looked over, he was closer than before.

I caught him trying to duck beneath the rope and hooked two fingers into the back of his shirt before he made it through.

“No.”

He stumbled backward and twisted around. “Come on, man.”

“No.”

“I know them.”

One of the bridesmaids shook her head so hard her veil nearly slipped off. I looked back at him. “Apparently they don’t know you.” A few people nearby laughed, and his face tightened before he finally backed off when I pointed toward the main floor.

I signaled one of the other bouncers to keep an eye on him, hoping that would be enough to end it. Part of me hoped it wouldn’t, and that was the shit I hated admitting.

The club fed every appetite I had, including the ugly ones. Adrenaline felt good. Fear smelled good. Watching some asshole realize he had finally pushed too far scratched an itch that standing beside a velvet rope never could. The trick was stopping once I got that first taste.

A crash cut through the music, and my head snapped toward the sound. Glass glittered across the floor near the VIP section, and there he was again. Same kid.

Only now he was drunk off his ass and holding half a broken wine bottle like a weapon while another bouncer blocked him from getting closer to the bride. She had backed toward the booth, her friends crowding around her as he shouted something I couldn’t hear over the music.

I was already moving before anyone called my name. It wasn’t anger dragging me across the room. The sight of him gripping that broken bottle sent adrenaline straight through me, strong enough that every other sensation in the room faded beneath it.