Chapter 7

7

BONES

I f I thought I knew what suffering was, I was wrong. Even at the worst times under the tyranny of Prince Tol'vazir in hell, it was never like this.

It's like Sloan Davis is my personal tormentor, sent by the universe to determine how much I can endure before finally breaking. That day, when I'd dropped by Lacy and Cinder's place to pick her up, was the first true strike against my walls. Walking into a home and having her turn to face me, her expression filled with hope and desire. Shit, it'd felt like Chainz punched me right in the fucking chest.

Then Lacy made me promise to take Sloan shopping for new clothes for this damn party we're at. I'd resorted to being an asshole buried in my phone, reviewing the files we have for the Silvermoon event, while she tried on clothes.

Now I'm thinking I should have made her show me the outfits, because there's no way in hell I'd have bought her the number she's wearing tonight. An outfit I didn't even see until she arrived with Sydney and Kennedy.

You'd never think that two weeks ago, Sloan was a Justicar who only wore white, shapeless cassocks or plain, long-sleeved dresses like some of the more orthodox religions in the world. Tonight, she's wearing a dress that is the opposite of all of her former attire. It's a velvety black material that crisscrosses over her breasts before tying behind her neck, leaving a section of her flat stomach exposed. The skirt is a death sentence for me, with the black velvet hugging her narrow hips and ending just past the swell of her ass. There's a sheer black layer with black embroidery that reaches her mid thigh, like a half-hearted attempt at modesty.

I'm a sick bastard, because I can't stop imagining slipping my hand under that fabric, stroking her smooth skin.

Fuck, I'm getting hard in my jeans.

I take another swig of the whiskey I'm nursing, trying to calm myself.

I have to avoid her, I tell myself. I have to stay away.

I take in the clubhouse's courtyard, packed with club members, locals, and the out-of-towners who never miss their chance to rub shoulders with the infamous Knights of Hades bikers.

The sun set an hour ago and the lights strung across the courtyard illuminate the improvised dance floor. Blaze and Kennedy are there and I snort in amusement. Kennedy has Blaze so whipped. Chainz is out there too, happily grinding on a redhead with huge tits. He's the type that picks his partner early and ramps up the tension until the chick is practically willing to deep-throat him in the middle of the room.

Chainz loves sex. I can't fault him for that.

I have a different problem.

I can't stop staring at Sloan.

I've been standing just inside the clubhouse's main room, the open door letting in the music and conversation. I should be out there, enjoying the party. Instead I'm hiding, watching a woman who isn't mine. A woman that the Prez warned me away from, even if he decided she wasn't a prisoner anymore. Now, it's worse. She's an -asset-.

"You look fuckin' miserable." Heathen shoulder checks me before wrapping an arm around my shoulders, a beer hanging loosely in his grip. "Nothing a good fuck won't fix, my brother."

I shake my head, bringing my whiskey to my lips and focusing on the smooth burn of it.

"Why the fuck not? Look at the fresh meat out there. You've been staring at that one with the Daisy Dukes all night."

I know he's talking about the brunette on the far side of the dance floor with some friends listening to a couple probies, but my eyes are on Sloan. She's sticking close to Sydney, and nobody fucks with Sydney. You don't fuck with the woman who owns the club's favorite bar.

"How much are we betting that Sydney and Reaper argue tonight?" I change the topic.

Heathen laughs, a loud boisterous sound that draws attention from around us. "Shit, man," he says, shaking his head. "Reaper can be a motherfucker, but I'm dying to know what went down between them all those years ago. She was head over heels for him."

"She was also sixteen," I counter. "He's got too much honor to have fucked her. Especially with Red still alive."

Red was what the old mayor went by and the grizzled old man was Sydney's grandfather. He took her in as a kid after her parents were killed by the shifters who claimed Devil's Haven before we stepped in. I remember him once saying he had no idea what to do with a kid the first time he raised one and he didn't know any better with Sydney. Still, the old man did his best by her and it shows. She's got a spine of steel and a bite sharp enough to keep a pack of demons in line. But under her tough, sun tanned skin, she's got a soft heart if you know where to look. Which is why I plan to ask her to let Sloan stay in the guest room above the Styx. It's almost all repaired from when the Santi Pastori mercs shot the place up when Kennedy was there.

I need Sloan out of my space before I go insane.

"You're probably right," Heathen agrees. "But she isn't sixteen anymore and a damn good looking woman. Too bad she'd probably cut his balls off if Reaper relaxed enough to get laid."

"She'd go for the throat," comes from behind us and we jolt and look behind us at a glowering Reaper.

Even being a demon myself, Reaper is scary. He's about as tall as me, but where I'm lean he's solid muscle. He's made up of harsh lines and sharp angles, and gruff enough to intimidate the harshest of men. His near black eyes can make a man piss himself when Reaper's angry. He's the type of person who can, and has, gone solo into a field of enemies and come out victorious.

"Hey, Prez," Heathen greets, dropping his arm from my shoulders to reach out and fist bump the man. "You ever going to tell us what you did to make Sydney hate you so much?"

"No." Reaper turns his attention to the partying crowd outside. "No problems so far?"

We're on higher alert than normal, waiting to see if the justicars will try anything in retribution after the fight here. "Just the normal bullshit," I answer, scanning every face again. Brute shouts for Heathen from across the way and our demon brother fist bumps my shoulder before swaggering out to meet him. I don't need to have eyes on each person in attendance, since me and Stubs have our security system scanning each face and pulling up their details.

The real question is would they try to get Sloan back or would they try to take her out instead?

Reaper and I stand together, keeping silent vigil over our fellow brothers. I've never been one for parties. Too many bad memories from the past. I'm glad my brothers can enjoy themselves, though. We've all got nightmares and scars inside us that'll never go away. Now Cinder and Blaze both have found their mates and bonded with them. The others might not admit it, but I see the hope and interest in their eyes. The thought that maybe we've atoned enough that they may find their own true mate.

Not me, though. You need a soul to have a fated mate and Prince Tol'vazir made sure mine was shattered beyond healing.

"Anna Leigh said Sloan was never a true follower of the justicars. Says she needs a lot more therapy, but we can trust that she won't go back to them willingly. Even warned me that she might take drastic actions if she thinks there's a chance they'll get her." Reaper says, his tone as easy as discussing the desert's weather tonight.

I can't avoid looking back at the last place I'd seen Sloan and Sydney, but they're not there anymore. My unease smooths away when I spot them closer to the outdoor bar. Sydney's keeping her close, something I appreciate since I can't be at her side. I try to get a read on how Sloan is doing, but her back is to me which is an issue in and of itself. That damn dress covers the entirety of her smooth back in the sheer material with black embroidery framing her sides. I want to trace my tongue down her spine until I can bite her ass.

I take another drink of whiskey only to find my glass is empty. Frustrated, I turn enough to deposit it on top of one of the side tables closest to the open doors.

"Glad she could confirm," I answer, my eyes finding her again across the crowd. Dr. Anna Leigh Grayback is more than just a standard therapist Reaper moved out here for Cerberus Securities clientele. She's a member of the Grayback wolf shifters pack and is a truth-teller, an ability her pack is known for. She can't compel anyone to tell the truth, but she can sense when someone is lying or not being entirely honest. It makes her a damn good therapist. It also makes her the perfect consultant when it comes to potential issue clients. If she'd told Reaper she believed Sloan to be a threat, he'd have locked her up in a strong room at the warehouse if he didn't just execute her.

The music changes and more party girls weave between the picnic tables pushed to outside to join the dancers. I shouldn't be annoyed that Sloan's hidden from me.

"She also warned me that Sloan might try to find someone else to attach to, since she's spent the last decade being forcibly dependent."

The way Reaper says it has me turning to meet his gaze, my brows narrowed. "You worried I'm going to take advantage of her? The fuck you think I am?" My fists curl at my sides, anger at one of my oldest friends and leader flaring bright in my chest. How dare he think that I, of all people, would take advantage of someone in her situation?

Reaper doesn't flinch from my accusation, turning to face me. He grips my shoulder in a massive hand, pinning me in place as he leans closer, his eyes the black of death. "I'm worried about -you-, Bones. I see the way you look at her; saw it that night when you carried her in your arms. There's something between you two and--" he cuts himself off, shaking his head. He lets me go with a gentle shove. "If I had to choose between you and her, I'd choose you any day, brother." He points in her direction and, like a damn hound, I follow his gaze right to Sloan. Except her and Sydney have been joined by Jon and Sampson, two probationary members of the Knights of Hades motorcycle club.

Ugly ass jealousy rears up inside of me when Sloan smiles at the broad chested bear shifter, Sampson. My teeth ache, my jaw is so tense.

"I get the feeling that woman can destroy you in ways Tol'vazir never could and he got damn close. That's why you need to stay the fuck away from her."

Bitterness tamps down the irritation at seeing Sampson flirt with Sloan as I process my president's words. I snap my hand out, stealing the bottle of beer out of a man's hand as he walked through the door. He started to argue but shut his mouth real fucking fast at my look. I down half of the warm beer before wiping the back of my hand across my mouth.

"Message heard loud and clear, boss," I bite out.

I can't fucking stay here and watch Sloan smile and laugh at whatever Sampson is saying. Can't just stand here as he gets closer to her, going as far as touching her arm like he's got any right to her.

Except when he tries to wrap a beefy arm around her waist and tug her to the dance floor, I swear her face goes pale as she tries to step back. Even Sydney is trying to get between them when Sampson doesn't let Sloan go right away. Jon's trying to play peace keeper but Sydney doesn't give a fuck about him.

"Here we go," Reaper mutters under his breath but I'm already storming out of the door.