Chapter 19

19

J inx hurried down the dimly lit street, her boots clicking against the cracked pavement. The old warehouse loomed ahead, its weathered brick facade softened by the glow of the setting sun. It may have looked like a derelict building to many—one that held brutal street fights—but to Jinx, it was a sanctuary. And her home.

Her eyes traced the familiar contours of the building. Rusted fire escapes zigzagged up the sides, their metal steps worn smooth by countless feet. Ivy crept up the corners, a vibrant green against the faded brick. The air around the building was tinged with the scent of rust that mingled with the smell of blood from the interior.

“There’s no place like home,” she murmured, smiling to herself. After such an eventful day, she wanted nothing more than to curl up with a cup of tea and a good book.

Instead of heading to the main entrance, she took a detour around to the back. She wondered if Sabre had slit her own wrists yet in an attempt to escape having to listen to concerned citizens for the rest of the day. Jinx shook her head, laughing when she pictured the look of dawning horror on her friend’s face. Sabre had tried to resign from her position as Mikhail’s guardian right there, but he had simply smacked her lightly on the back of the head and told her not to be a pussy.

Thoughts of Mikhail looking all kingly as he addressed his people forced their way into her mind. The image was now burned into her brain and had effectively wiped out the remaining fantasies of Hound. The rebel disguise he had donned so reluctantly didn’t hold a candle to the real man. And the real man is most definitely a king, her brain reminded her.

Jinx paused at the heavy metal door, running her fingers over the faded sign that read, No Trespassing Or I’ll Rip You A New Arsehole. She snickered, remembering when Sabre scrawled the warning years ago. Not that it was necessary. The door itself had a series of mechanical locks running down the side, each more complex than the last. There were tumblers and a biometric scanner—cutting-edge security measures that would thwart even the most skilled people trying to break in. Jinx thought it was a little overkill. But the moment she’d moved in, Sabre and Gage insisted on upping the security.

The rear was reserved for employees, of which there was only a handful of casual cleaners—mainly preternaturals who liked the taste of blood or fed off violence and pain. Gage operated his establishment pretty much solo with the help of herself, Sabre, and now Eric. Friends and family were the only people who knew another entrance existed, let alone had keys.

Just as she was about to unlock the door, a sharp crack pierced the silence. She whirled around, her claws extending automatically. But the decrepit parking lot that backed onto bushland was empty. There was nothing but shadows and debris. After a tense moment, where her tiger assured her there was no danger, Jinx exhaled slowly. “It’s just my nerves getting the better of me,” she muttered, yearning for that cup of tea.

One by one, the locks disengaged with a bunch of satisfying clicks, and the door swung open. Silence met her ears rather than the muffled sounds of flesh hitting flesh. Fight night wouldn’t start for another hour. Gage was no doubt holed up in his own room on the third level, enjoying the peace while he could. Sabre’s magically concealed studio was well hidden at the opposite end of the warehouse.

Walking inside, Jinx’s gaze was drawn upward to the stairs leading to her private haven. She bounded up, taking two steps at a time until she reached the second floor. With a flick of her wrist, she pulled out another set of keys from her jacket pocket and began working on the door's double lock.

As she stepped into her apartment, a soft sigh of contentment escaped her lips. The space, though modest, was all hers. The living room boasted a plush, oversized lounge in a muted dusty rose. It was adorned with an assortment of throw pillows in various textures—velvet, knit, and faux fur—all in complementary pastel shades. A fluffy area rug in cream invited bare feet to sink into its softness. Gentle hues of lavender and sage adorned the walls, creating a soothing atmosphere that never failed to put her at ease.

To the left, the compact kitchen gleamed with pale grey countertops and white cabinets. Jinx had carefully curated a collection of vintage pirate glassware that adorned the open shelves above the sink. A delicate hanging plant added a touch of greenery to the space, bringing in a sense of freshness.

Tucked away at the end of the hallway was her bedroom. The bed was covered in a crisp white duvet decorated with embroidered flowers, and an array of scented candles lined the bedside table. Jinx smiled as she remembered how much time she spent picking out the right ones to create a calming ambience in her room, just for Sabre to walk in and call it boring. But then, anything would be plain compared to Sabre’s horrifying secret haven of rainbow vomit and glitter.

Jinx shuddered, thinking of Sabre’s room. Her tiger hated the vibrant colours and found the whole space obnoxious. She wanted to tear it to shreds every time they visited, and Jinx secretly applauded the violent inclinations of the feline. But Sabre loved it, and that’s all that mattered.

Next to her bedroom was a deceptively quaint office nook, concealing an armoury that would make even the most hardened mercenary weep with joy. She knew because Sabre did it regularly. For the hell of it, Jinx shifted her right hand, placing it on the scanner. Her paw print was the only way to access the weapons stash. With its desk attached, the wall fell away, revealing row upon row of gleaming metal racks filled with a veritable arsenal.

Sleek assault rifles stood at attention, their barrels glinting menacingly. Beside them, compact submachine guns nestled in foam cutouts, ready to unleash hails of lead at a moment's notice. Sniper rifles with elongated barrels and high-powered scopes lay in velvet-lined cases, the tools of precision death dealers. Gage was her supplier for the frowned-upon human weapons, but Sabre was responsible for almost everything else.

Crates overflowed with grenades of every variety—fragmentation, smoke, incendiary, even a few exotic magical bombs with swirling mixtures visible through clear casings. Stacks of ammunition boxes towered high, enough to supply an army for weeks on end, and blades of every variety lined the far wall. Jinx wandered around, touching the instruments of death, thinking back to when she couldn’t even bring herself to slit her rapist's throat. And now here she was, a weaponised woman who knew how to take care of business.

Her fingers absently traced the length of a familiar blade. Sabre had gifted it to her after slitting Asmodeus’s throat. Jinx still hadn’t used the dagger, but she often came into the armoury to stare at it.

The memory of that night flickered through her mind like an old film reel. She could have ended it all right there and tasted the sweet nectar of revenge that Sabre was so fond of. But she didn't. Sometimes, Jinx regretted that decision. She imagined how satisfying it would have been to feel the warm splash of his blood on her skin as the life drained from his eyes. She’d killed since—only in self-defence, it was true—and didn’t feel a lick of guilt about it. So, the ability to dole out death was certainly within her. Yet, in that moment, she had chosen not to.

“I did it for me,” she said out loud, turning her back on the gleaming knife and making her way from the room without looking back.

“I’m grateful for the path I chose,” she reminded herself sternly, heading to the kitchen to make a pot of tea. Would she still be standing here today, surrounded by sunlight and friends, if she’d made a different choice? Or would she have revelled in the high from the kill and been consumed by it like others had been?

As she settled into her favourite armchair in the living room with her cup of peppermint tea, she couldn’t help wondering what Mikhail would think of the whole situation. Would he understand, as Sabre and Gage did? Or would he think she was weak and a coward?

She shifted restlessly in the chair, reaching over to open the window. The cool air carried a symphony of scents: pine sap, wildflowers, and the tantalising aroma of prey animals in the brush behind the warehouse. But the scents, typically enough to make her inner tiger happy, didn’t hold her attention. Instead, her thoughts were consumed by the demon she would never claim.

She pictured his piercing green eyes that always seemed to burn with determination and a hint of sadness. High cheekbones framed his sharp jawline, adding to the air of authority and confidence he wore like a second skin. His powerful shoulders were broad enough to carry the weight of Purgatory on them, and his smile illuminated his whole face.

Heat pooled in her belly, and her fingers flexed involuntarily around her mug. She wanted to fuck her mate in the worst way.

Jinx growled softly, irritated by her thoughts. She wasn’t doing herself any favours by calling him that. Nor mooning over him. So what if thoughts of Mikhail made her breath catch and her pussy weep? She couldn’t have a mate because she couldn’t trust her emotions or her worthiness. Besides, he’d made his position abundantly clear.

Just then, her inner tiger growled. Jinx focused inward, feeling the tigress pace restlessly within the confines of its human shell, tail lashing in agitation. Jinx could hear her thoughts and knew she thought Jinx was stupid, always overthinking and overanalysing. Why waste time with words and reasons when instinct is so much clearer? The demon smelled good and had the traits of a leader. To the tiger, Mikhail was the perfect package.

“It’s complicated,” Jinx said out loud.

The tiger's eyes flashed with annoyance in her head, whiskers twitching as she fought the urge to bare her fangs at Jinx. A different type of hunger gnawed at her belly, a primal need that the human part kept ignoring in favour of responsibilities and excuses.

Jinx sighed, rubbing her forehead. “I’m sorry,” she apologised for what felt like the millionth time since recognising Mikhail as their mate.

When the prey was near, you pounced. When you were tired, you slept. It was as simple as that to the animal, including chasing down the yummy demon king and sinking their claws into him.

Jinx groaned, leaning her head back against the chair. Her initial desire to curl up with a book had vanished. Now, she felt twitchy as hell. “Fucking is off the table,” she told herself just as the sound of doors banging open echoed up the staircase. She nodded decisively. “Fighting it is, then.”

She quickly shed her clothes and put on some workout gear. She began stretching to warm up her muscles and get the juices flowing away from her vagina. With a final pull on her hamstring, she straightened and grabbed her favourite brass knuckles from a nearby table. There was always a weapon or two close at hand. She slipped them on and made her way downstairs.

Jinx couldn't help but feel a surge of pride for Gage as she walked through the small crowd. It was still early, with the first fight of the night just about to start. Despite all odds, Gage had created a successful business out of something both illegal and dangerous. And he had done it with integrity. Not many would see it that way, she was sure. But it was the truth.

Would Mikhail think so? her mind taunted. She grumbled because the stark contrast between her home and Mikhail’s was not lost on her.

Waving to Eric, where he was talking with the first two fighters of the night, she headed straight for the makeshift bar. Kit, a regular, immediately jumped up and offered the stool to her. “Thanks,” Jinx said, hopping onto the tall seat.

“Of course,” Kit replied, his jagged teeth giving him a lisp before he disappeared into the growing crowd.

“That was nice,” Jinx said to Gage.

Gage eyed her drolly. “Kit doesn’t do nice. What he does have is a good memory. Last time you saw him, you kicked his balls into his throat for taking your seat.”

She grinned. “Oh, yeah. That’s right.”

Gage chuckled. “I didn’t think we’d see you tonight.”

“Yeah, well, I had a change of plans,” she muttered, shifting beneath his gaze. “Put me in next.”

Gage’s brows slammed down. “Pardon?”

Jinx rolled her shoulders, feeling the tense muscles stretch a little. But not enough. “The next match. I want in.”

Gage picked up the run sheet. “It’s a scorpius demon with a daddy complex and a major gambling addiction.”

“Sounds perfect,” Jinx exclaimed jubilantly.

Gage nodded and grinned. “And get this, he calls himself Stinger.”

Jinx blanched. “A scorpius demon called Stinger? He deserves a beating for that alone.”

Gage snickered and, bless his oddly beating heart, didn’t question her further. He simply added her name to the line-up. “Want to talk about it?” he then offered kindly, leaning his hip against the bar.

“Not really,” she replied, her eyes wandering to the fight that had just started.

It was a fairly even match between two werewolves. They circled each other, throwing out insults that weren’t particularly imaginative in her opinion. One of them had a crooked nose and a scar running down his cheek. The other only had one ear and a tattoo of a snake coiled around his biceps. They looked rough as hell but still collided with the force of a truck when they charged at each other. The sound of fists hitting flesh echoed through the warehouse. Sweat and blood flew in every direction, and the air became thick with the smell of pain. The crowd surrounding the makeshift ring cheered and jeered, their voices blending seamlessly into the violence.

“You know, if you want to beat someone up, I’ll stand still. No need for you to ruin that pretty face in the ring,” Gage said evenly.

Jinx looked away from the beating, smiling at her friend. “Thanks. But I want to hit something that will fight back. And you never do.”

“I could pretend?” he offered. When Jinx simply shook her head, Gage continued, “Want me to get Mikhail in the ring? That’s who you really want to pound on, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she answered immediately. Then she groaned, resting her head against the wood. “No. I don’t know,” she admitted tragically.

“Well, just let me know if you change your mind,” Gage said evenly, wiping the bench with a clean rag.

Jinx rested her chin on her forearm, peering up at the akuji. “How do you stay so chill?”

Gage shrugged. “Practice.”

A sudden thought hit her. “Were you always like this? When you were human, I mean?”

“No.”

The one-word response changed Gage’s whole demeanour, and Jinx immediately regretted asking. He was always so easy-going, but now he seemed tense and guarded. His handsome face, previously relaxed and jovial, was now closed off. Jinx sat up straighter, placing a hand on his cold arm. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

He looked down at her hand for a moment before visibly relaxing. When his eyes met hers in the next instant, the usual warmth was there despite the fact that they were nothing but black pools. His smile was small but genuine when he spoke. “Hey. My business will always be yours. We’re family. I guess I forget sometimes, you know? That I had this whole other life in a whole other world.” He stared into space for a moment. “I’m afraid you wouldn’t recognise me in that life.”

There’s a story there , Jinx thought. One he hadn’t felt the need to share in all the time they had known each other. If that day ever came, she’d be there for him. But until then, Gage was entitled to his privacy, so she didn’t question him further. Instead, she watched as Mr Broken Nose defeated Mr Snake Tattoo with a solid uppercut.

“That was fast,” Eric said happily as he made his way over. “Hey,” he greeted Jinx, bending down for a hug.

Jinx leaned into Eric for a moment, feeling the love. Her smile was genuine when she pulled back. “Hi. I guess I’m up.”

Eric’s brows rose and his gaze moved back and forth between Gage and Jinx. “You’re fighting tonight?”

Jinx waved her weaponised knuckles in his face. “Yep.”

“Sexual frustration?” Eric guessed.

“Partly,” Jinx confessed. She could admit as much to him. “I just have all this pent-up energy and nowhere to expel it.”

Eric regarded her for a moment longer before moving his arm in a sweeping gesture. “Well, have at it. Stinger awaits.”

Jinx included both men in her grin. “You guys really are the best!”