22. Nat

22

Nat

metal tongs aren't out of the question

The door shuts with a resonating thud that mirrors the fury in my ribcage.

“Godsammit.” Sin speaks with a controlled growl, but a dangerous undercurrent lurks beneath. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

My body stiffens against the accusation. Sweat dampens my skin and I’m laboring for breath just from the walk home. The internal stab of the thrall breaks over me like withdrawal. “I did what I had to do. He was going to—”

“Blow our cover?” Sin cuts me off. His lip is cracked where my ichor burned him, his fingers bruised and swollen. He doesn’t seem to notice, or care.

Rant continuing, he yanks out of his suit coat and dumps it onto the kitchen island. “Because that’s what you’ve done. We’re supposed to be unnoticed, fit in while we gather information, not toss corpses from balconies.”

“Well now, I’m invested.” Zeke jackknives up from the armchair, the same unsolved Rubik’s cube in his hands, joint tucked behind his ear. “How many corpses? How deteriorated?”

What kind of question is that?

Sin pinches the skin at his nape. “Fresh.”

Zeke’s striking blue eyes light up behind his scars. “Still twitching?”

I scoff. “As if my victims can feel after—”

“ Z .” Sin sighs, undoing the buttons on his wrists. “Uninvest yourself and I’ll tell you which stickers I moved on your Rubik’s cube.”

I kick out of my death trap stilettos, shred the billowy sleeves tickling my neck. Rip them off.

Sin stalks toward me, hulking seven feet of trained warrior, a hickey emerging on his golden neck. Humiliation, accompanied by a ferocious desire to lick it, invade my every thought. I hold myself confidently, refusing to be cowed by a male drowning in a sea of his own black aura.

He bends his head, warmth pulsing from his body as he brushes the torn sleeve. “Must you destroy everything?”

He’s not just talking about the dress. “I cannot sit idly by while atrocities are committed.”

“Yes! You can. It’s not fucking hard.”

“For you .”

Disappointment scores his features. He presses me backward, hand snaring my nape.

Desire burns within me. Thickens as he places his mouth beside my ear and whispers, “Right, Bloodspiller. Because between the two of us, I’m the monster. Ask me how many I killed today.”

Rude to use my actions against me. “Yes, you played very nicely with the other doomed souls. A crowd favorite among the most vile of creatures.”

“And he hogs the spotlight,” Zeke chimes in, peeling bright red stickers off the jumbled cube, white hair falling in his face.

“I am playing their game,” Sin defends sharply. “I am searching for Theia.”

He says it as if he’s reminding me. As if he’s been the one toiling for her welfare, fearful for her every moment, as if he’s the one who cares.

I lose it.

The hangover, the loneliness, fucking dead end after dead end, struggling against my true nature. Ignoring it.

“Where is she then?” I scream, shoving at his chest. “Where. Is. She. What did your chitchat achieve, Blackguard? A location? A name? Fucking anything?” I tear off the frilly ends of my skirts and upend the blood soaked inside.

“At least I did something,” I snarl, throwing the material at him. “We can’t afford to play house while she’s in danger. We need to work harder. If that means removing potential owners, then so fucking be it.”

His fury ebbs ever so slightly, replaced by bitter resignation.

Then he throws a careless hand out, none of the fight left in his words. “And what if she does belong to Nicki, huh? Then she’ll die in a cage. Starve to death without ever seeing the light of day again. She’ll never know happiness, never feel like her own person, never feel the world at her reach.”

I flinch.

A heavy silence crashes into the room.

Embarrassment eats at me for the mess I’ve caused in this realm. The mistakes, the excuses, the lovers. The bodies.

Return home .

Maybe Hades is right. This realm has changed me too much, stretched me too far. I don’t belong.

“I can’t do nothing,” I say around a knot in my throat.

Sin’s tone drips with cynicism. “You were careless tonight, climbing into my lap. Acting like—” He shoots a pointed look at Zeke, before turning back to me. “Acting like that.”

High .

But he doesn’t want to say it in front of his buddy.

Protecting my secrets? Embarrassed of his own reaction? His thick length beneath me, the possessive curl of his hands on my waist. Sucking my arousal, my spit, even my caustic ichor off his fingers.

“Every second matters to her,” I argue. “Every second matters to me.”

“Is that why you kissed me?”

Zeke gasps dramatically and the still logs in the fireplace burst into flame.

A flush scrapes over my cheeks. “That’s not up for discussion.”

“That’s exclusively what I want to talk about.”

“Then be silent for once.”

Sin crosses his arms, eyebrows raised challengingly. “Every second, huh? Even the ones you were ladling ichor into my mouth?”

No need to explain I’d no idea I was doing that. “She’s trapped! Don’t you get it? In a prison, she’s—”

“So am I!”

My jaw drops as he bounds to the fridge, ripping it open. Slams it shut. “Do you want to know why I want Theia?”

“Sin,” Zeke warns, voice amiss of its usually floating quality.

“No. I need to tell her. She thinks I don’t care.” The Blackguard towers over me, eyes ablaze, a Gatorade in his hand. “She thinks we’re just useless rotting bastards.”

Still groggy from my hangover, I summon the strength to straighten my shoulders. “Back off.”

He doesn’t budge. “A Phoenix is our only hope of removing these cursed tattoos. However badly you need her, triple it for each one of these godsdamned bands.”

Zeke’s standing. Stickers stuck to four of his fingers, one on his cheek. I flick my gaze to him. “You. Explain. Now.”

“No.” Sin grasps my chin, and I arch away from his imposing figure, bracing myself against the cold counter. “Don’t look at him. That glare belongs to me. I’m the one you kissed.”

“Poisoned.”

“ Kissed. ”

Another flush drives through me. I douse it. “What could Theia possibly have to do with your demented hunting tags?”

“Only because you asked so politely, my love.” He pops the orange cap off the bottle and places it in my palm. “We’re cursed. To lift the curse, we must avenge our king by finding his killer and executing them. Drink.”

I ignore the command to glance back at Zeke when a low grumble emanates from Sin’s chest. “Eyes on me, Bloodspiller. Ask me, not him.”

“What’s the curse?”

“Pain,” he whispers, attention stuck to my mouth.

The hurt in the word is undeniable and excruciating. I push down the guilt that churns in my stomach at the earnestness in his voice.

My lie threatens to unravel and expose us all. A Phoenix will help cure them. That’s why Sin’s here, talking to me, kissing me.

And I don’t have one.

The hangover, the kiss, the confusing emotions simmer cruelly within me, but then Sin’s face tilts as if he can see the truth and I pull myself out of it.

He can taste my emotions, and I refuse to give him any more leverage.

I take a sip of the Gatorade he handed me, barely tasting it. “She won’t tell us anything if we don’t find her, and if you don’t start—”

The front door flies open and Lev blunders in, soaking wet with blood streaked on his square cheek, entirely the brute he claims to be. He shoves a young female in thin Grecian robes across the foyer. “This was on the porch.”

The female shudders, gown dripping on the floor, clearly terrified.

Immediately, Zeke jumps over the back of the couch, takes off his shirt and offers it to her. “My lady.” He twists to whisper to Sin, “I only order blondes. This must be ...”

“Uber,” Rune announces, striding into the kitchen, his polo neatly folded into his jean shorts. “You two can’t be out walking any more. Sin keeps getting tagged on socials, and mortals are clamoring to know about the model he’s with.” The blonde recluse Blackguard passes me a credit card and looks up from his tablet, freezes when he sees the trembling female. “Who’s this?”

“Who’s Lara Croft?” I ask, examining the shiny card with a fake name.

Rune winces. “Please don’t say that when you use it.”

Lev wrings out his hair on the doormat while Sin approaches the wisp of a female with his customary swaggering demeanor.

“Hello there,” he purrs, tone smooth as a lullaby. Cuffs undone, he shoves his shirtsleeves up muscled forearms, the gesture hiding the sudden rush of cool air that follows him.

The effect of his power is instant.

The wisps’ shaking stops, her shoulders relax, and her gaze lifts as she becomes entranced by Sin’s presence.

“How can I help you, sweetheart?” he asks, trailing fingers along her porcelain cheek.

My fingers. The ones I didn’t bite, the ones he licked.

My most violent instincts scream for me to intervene. To decimate.

Must you destroy everything?

I can’t let him be right. I stand firm, accidentally snap the black card in my hand.

Rune whines, “I just made that.”

“I don’t need your money, Blackguard.” I stride to Sin’s side, angry I’m once again trying to play his game. “Who sent you?”

The female doesn’t spare me a glance, too lost in Sin’s charms and touch and damn smile.

That’s what I looked like. Drooling and enamored.

Weak .

I had convinced myself it was the high that drew me to Sin, that the thrall was the only reason for my morbid desires, and I did not truly want him outside of my infliction.

Now ...

I gnash my teeth.

He’s more dangerous than I ever realized. Accomplished what only one before has achieved. Forced me to see past his aura—made me defend the shade and even like it, embrace it, preen at the way it glossed over me too.

And yet ... the urge remains.

Humming in my veins. A primal desire to have him inside me, coupled with a fierce instinct to kill, harm, and defeat him.

My purpose does not listen to reason or make exceptions.

Sin wads up Zeke’s t-shirt to dry the female’s shoulder, and her yellowish pallor warms into a blush under his care. “I’d love to hear your voice,” he croons.

Rune and Zeke hang on his every syllable.

Lev’s eyes are downcast and his face is flushed, balled fists resembling mallets at his sides. He’s fighting Sin’s compulsion.

“ Sin ,“ I hiss. Talk about careless. He’s tossing emotion everywhere.

“Speak when spoken to, Diakonos,” he retorts sternly, cupping the wisp’s chin. “What is your name, darling?”

“Nefeli.”

Utter reverence in her voice.

I clench my teeth so hard that something cracks. I drop back, feeling like an outcast as the house floods with adoration for a male I simultaneously want to shred and kiss. Watch the sunset with.

Destroy.

Short yet covetous words are exchanged between Nefeli and Sin like whispering lovers. Eventually, she hands him a slim ivory envelope. He runs his thumb over her forehead thoughtfully, escorts her outside, shuts the door sweetly, and waves to her through the window.

At the soft click of the lock, the room breaks free of his hold.

The fire’s roar returns, Zeke collapses back into his seat, laughing. Lev storms out. Rune stares up at the ceiling, his cheeks glowing with embarrassment. “Dick,” he mutters under his breath.

“Excellent, and yours?” Sin directs a smirk at me before handing over the envelope. “An intimate gathering tomorrow. With Lesenia.”

I glance at the paper skeptically, wanting to reach out and grab it, but holding back. It’s her. The female who broke Sin. I hesitate, glancing up at him to soak in the blank stare, the tightness around his mouth.

For Theia, I force myself not to care and break the seal.

A vein jumps in Sin’s throat.

“We have to go.” My voice sounds oddly small.

“Obviously,” he retorts. “Soon everyone will know about Nicki. If we’re exposed, we’re dead. And then we can’t save anyone, can we?”

My focus stays locked on the page, while despair claws at me from the inside out. “I don’t care about anyone. Just her,” I state firmly, a sliver of hope piercing the darkness settled in my gut.

Sin studies me briefly.

The realm’s most attractive male looks more fallen God than creature tonight—beautiful and broken, tortured, as all the Gods are. He nods once, curtly, as if conceding to the necessity of our mission.

He longs to be free of his curse. So much so that he’ll suffer Lesenia’s company.

A new wave of self-hatred swells up inside me.

“Just her,” he echoes.

“She’s good,” I defend, skimming the calligraphy, needing him to understand before the truth unveils. “Theia’s a good creature. Every day, she is good. She’s like the sunrise. She gives color and life to everyone, doesn’t matter who they are, or what they’ve done.”

“She’s the sunrise?”

“Yes.”

“And I’m the sunset,” he replies bitterly.

It’s good. His anger. He should hate me back. By the time this is over, he will.

I harden my heart. It’ll be easier if he hates me. “You just forced lust onto her, onto all of them when a question would’ve worked. You ... you don’t care about others, so long as you get what you want.”

“Isn’t that why you’re here, honey?”

Honey .

Bloodspiller when he’s teasing me. Love in the rare moments we’re not fighting. Nat when he’s serious.

Everything else when he tries to push me away.

I set my teeth. “I am doing what’s right. What’s my Gods honored duty. I’m fulfilling the righteous purpose I was made to serve.”

I shove the invitation at him.

Guilt grinds so deep into my bones, I struggle to force myself to walk out.

“It was love,” he calls after me, delivering a final, perfect blow. “Not lust. I pushed love onto her. Real love. Not that you’d ever recognize it.”