Chapter 1

"It's notarrogance when it's fact."

The beers came down in unison. Each of their faces read disbelief, as if I was wrong. Even Doc's demonic alter ego flashed across his face, jaw gaping, at least what was left of his face. It's as if they forget who I was and the reputation I wielded.

"You think you'd win against the Centurions?" Of course, it's Diesel who spoke up. Out of this quartet, he is the first to question my abilities. Spending a decade behind bars, he didn't have the pleasure of hearing Damien Vex become a household name in Vanguard.

Closing my eyes, I massaged the bridge of my nose. I only patronized this dive bar to prevent Carmen from making idle threats about Cold Iron. If not for this arrangement, I'd never tolerate these three. Two thugs, a shrink, and piss labeled as liquor were not what I'd call a pleasant evening. At least the drunkards at Haven ignored the three criminals sitting in the back of the pub.

"You sound surprised?" I sipped the swill that passed for top-shelf bourbon.

"How'd that work for you last time?"

Clint bumped fists with him. Between the two of them, I couldn't decide who was more insufferable. The idiot or the ass? It'd be a draw. Both took every opportunity to interject that I had been bested and locked away. But this time, Diesel missed the mark.

"If you recall…" I swirled the amber liquid about my glass. "I bested the Centurions without effort. I could have killed each of them without breaking a sweat. Fact."

"Until you got your ass handed to you by the Deviants." Clint's face shifted, jaw hardening, and a beard grew until I stared into the face of my arch nemesis. Since he returned from his mission for Carmen, he had grown brazen. I preferred him before when he acted like a lost puppy.

I growled. "I'll have my revenge."

"Do you hear yourself? You sound like you're quoting a villain handbook." Diesel, on the other hand, had always been bold. Since he bedded Calum, a self-proclaimed hero of all things, he spoke as if he were untouchable.

I wanted to reach across the table and drive my knuckles into Clint's face. Even if he wasn't the real Sentinel, it'd be satisfying to hear his jaw shatter. Diesel, however, I wanted to watch the man quake as he realized his confidence was nothing more than a scared man's bravado. I didn't want to kill them. It'd be more satisfying to hear them beg for mercy.

"How's that going?" Doc asked. He leaned forward, which meant he transitioned from drinking buddy to therapist. "How's revenge working for you?"

Carmen assigned him to rehabilitate us in some misguided hope that we'd walk the straight and narrow. I found it ironic that our ‘therapist' was nothing more than a crook with a degree. I had dealt with his type before, a criminal who existed in the gray area between good and bad. I admired his extracurricular activities. The vengeance demon cohabitating his body remained a topic of interest.

"Revenge?" I asked. "I don't occupy my time with petty retaliation."

He pointed at Clint, who still wore the face of Bernard Castle. The former leader of the Centurions had been the one who put me behind bars. My plan had been carefully planned and went off without a hitch… until he intervened.

My fist tightened.

Doc's face darkened until I stared at the vengeance demon's hollow eyes. He leaned forward. I had done a plethora of supernatural research. While the Doc relied on his clinical training, Havres accessed demonic powers, staring into his victim's souls. I didn't care for anybody who could see past my exterior.

"Your heart drowns in rage." He sniffed the air. "I can smell your need for vengeance."

Just like that, Havres vanished, and Doc raised an eyebrow. The two working in tandem provided an unfair advantage. The power at his disposal had me consider a deal with a devil. Even with my pursuit of power, I refused to share the credit with a co-pilot.

"No offense meant, but I'm not here for your psychobabble."

"Offense taken." He wouldn't let it go. Doc had a knack for finding a crack in our armor and forcing it open. "Why haven't you acted on the impulse?"

Neither Clint nor Diesel offered commentary. It would have been a welcome distraction from the question at hand. Unlike them, Doc knew a secret even I refused to accept. His eyes fixated as if they might drill holes. He wouldn't back down until I spoke. But it'd be a cold day in hell before he got the answer he tried to pry from my lips.

"It's not like you've hidden your feelings about Sentinel," said Doc.

"Not like he ever shuts up about it," added Clint.

"I'm Damien Vex," Diesel mocked. "I'm awesome. Sentinel will die."

"Good impression," said Clint. I wasn't surprised as his face shifted, and I stared at myself. He was only seconds away from a punch to the throat. "I'm tortured. Sentinel hurt my feelings."

"Keep it up." I glared at Clint. It hadn't come to trading blows… yet. I learned to avoid using the word ‘idiot' aloud with the buffoon. My fists tightened, nails digging into my palms. It wasn't the threat of violence that left my blood boiling. The inability to act on my rage, to grab him by the throat and snap his neck, stoked the flames.

He returned to his normal self. Since he returned from L"isle des Méchants, he'd finally let go of the chiseled body. Whatever happened there had imbued him with far more confidence. He wouldn't speak about it, which was uncharacteristic for the garrulous dolt. I believed it revolved around this new man he brought up at every turn.

"What makes you think my plan hasn't already begun?"

"Please," Doc said, gesturing to the others. "Enlighten us."

"You want me to lay out my plan to destroy Sentinel? Aren't we coming dangerously close to a supervillain cliche?"

I'd be lying if I said it didn't consume my waking hours. Vex industries continued to run itself even after my incarceration, which gave me plenty of time for extracurricular activities. In the months that followed my release, I traveled the globe, following leads that might provide the power necessary to kill Bernard Castle. It wouldn't be enough to best him in a feat of strength. No, I wanted to ruin the man in the most painful manner before hearing him beg for mercy. Only then would I?—

"He's doing that thing," Clint said, waving his hand in front of my face.

"That's definitely a murderous thought face," Diesel added.

"I thought it was his sexy-thoughts-about-Sentinel face."

Doc shook his head. "Stop teasing the man. It's not his fault he gets confused about lust and revenge."

"I hate you all."

These three street thugs served as a reminder of why I didn't socialize with the lower class. If I didn't interject, they'd be telling dick jokes. I didn't hate them, but I'd prefer we weren't bound by the conditions of our release. If I had bumped into any of them in my day-to-day, I wouldn't give them a second thought. However, they provided a change of pace, not that I'd ever admit it. Being a cut-throat businessman grew wearisome. Even though they chipped away at my patience, they were a breath of fresh air.

"Do you have a crush on?—"

I struck Clint with the back of my hand. "You were warned."

"That tickled." Two words. Innocent as they may be, they lay at the heart of this conversation. If it came to trading blows, at best, I'd tickle him. I fought to keep a neutral facade.

"It might be better to focus your energies on something more productive," Doc suggested. "Perhaps philanthropy?"

"Phil-what?" For Christmas, I'd buy Clint a dictionary.

"It's using your wealth and influence for good."

Doc raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't sure you knew the definition, Damien."

He was the only one who called me by my first name. It was almost unnerving as if he attempted to humanize me. I'm sure it was one of the many tricks he utilized while helping distraught patients. I was not one of them.

"With the board running my company, I have other ways of filling my time." He thought if he pushed hard enough, we'd crack and have an epiphany that'd suddenly make us better humans. It'd be a noble cause if I wasn't already the best version of myself. "I'm not without my hobbies, Doc."

"Searching the globe for…" He paused, close to spilling a secret that would make him the focus of my rage. "…improvements, is not a hobby. It's an obsession."

Clint and Diesel looked at one another, unable to read between the lines. Doc played a dangerous game. Without thinking, I scratched the rigid stone embedded in my chest. My finger traced the crack along the center.

I raised my hand, signaling for the server. Julie didn't need to ask. After months of occupying this god-forsaken booth, she had our order memorized. If I couldn't get Doc to relent, I'd ply them with booze. It took little to get a rile out of Clint and Diesel. With more alcohol flowing through their veins, the conversation would descend into tasteless jokes and threatening to compare dick sizes.

"I hope you find what you need and not what you want." Doc finished his whisky. I couldn't tell if his words were an encouragement or a threat.

"I had sex on Vex's yacht."

Leave it to Clint to break the tension.

"Who hasn't had sex on it?" Diesel said.

"Seriously," Doc added.

"Wait. What?"

I take it back. I hated them all.

* * *

I gripped his hips tightly, watching as my cock disappeared into his eager hole. Perched on all fours, he buried his face in my comforter, his ass in the air. He moaned while shoving back. If he wanted a rough fuck, I'd be happy to oblige. I pulled out until only the head remained. I jerked him back while thrusting forward.

"Fuck me," he whined.

Twice my size, he had acted as if he were a top in the bedroom. With that myth dispelled, he greedily begged for my cock. Much to his dismay, the condom meant he wouldn't be bred tonight, at least not by me. On the next withdrawal, I brought my hand down, darkening the red handprint. He groaned, trying to pull away. I held him in place for another sharp slap. The whimpering only made my cock harder.

I pulled out. "Roll over."

"Yes, sir." Good boy.

Top? I almost laughed at how fast he flipped onto his back. With his legs on my shoulders, I lined up my cock. He bit his bottom lip in anticipation. I rested against his hole, but didn't push in. I could have had my way with him, fucked him until I came. But that wasn't what made it exciting.

"Fuck me." The magic phrase. "I need your cock in me."

I gripped his beefy thighs, my fingers digging in as I leaned forward. In one long stroke, I buried my cock. He howled, head thrashing back and forth. He reached for his cock, but I caught his wrist. I didn't need to say no. He knew the game. I leaned forward, pinning his wrists next to his head.

"Please," he begged. "Don't stop."

I had no intention of stopping. I picked up the pace, switching to shorter strokes, using his ass to milk my shaft. He pushed back, lifting his arms off the bed. I fought to hold him down, but his obsession with the gym paid off. He surprised me as he moved my hands to his throat. With my fingers wrapped around his neck, he tipped his head back, moaning.

Who was I to deny him his wish? I tightened my fingers, painfully aware of the soft flesh. The dark hair of his beard rested on my hands as I clenched his throat, cutting off his airway. His face turned red, spreading across his bald head. I continued plowing him, forcing my cock as deep as I could manage. His heels dug into my ass, urging me forward.

When his eyes rolled back in his head, the orgasm tore through my body. With another stroke, I could feel his hole clenching my cock as I came. I grunted through clenched teeth. My muscles tensed as the electricity surged through my body. I held still, savoring when he reached up, tapping my hands. I didn't let go. He grabbed my wrists, pulling me off him. I couldn't stop him if I tried. The lust turned to anger as I pulled my cock out.

He gasped for air, rubbing his throat as I pulled off the condom. Even I was impressed with the volume of cum. I tossed it in the wastebasket next to the nightstand and prepared for the awkward aftermath. He had come without touching himself, and I silently congratulated myself on a job well done.

"That was hot." He sat up but didn't get off the bed. "For a second, I thought you were going to choke me out."

"You can see yourself out." There was no point in small talk. We both got what we wanted. The business transaction between us had been fulfilled. If he thought it was going to be anything more than a cum and go, he'd be sorely disappointed. I left the bedroom heading into the bathroom.

"Maybe we can do this again sometime?"

I didn't answer. I didn't want to give him any inkling that there'd be a repeat performance. If I found the need to call him, I would. Developing a connection, even as loose as a steady bedfellow, wasn't my style. There were enough men in Vanguard I could go for years without calling on him again. Why settle for one when I had yet to sample all Vanguard had to offer?

I turned on the shower, hoping it'd make my intentions clear. The idea of lying in bed and exchanging words while the endorphins flooded our bodies sounded unpleasant at best. Cuddling while we replayed our sexual prowess? Absolutely not. The king-sized mattress was large enough for one.

I listened as he shuffled about. Finally, it ended with an "Asshole" and the door to the bedroom shutting. I'd be sure to review the security footage later to ensure he had stolen nothing on his way out.

Standing in front of the vanity, I glared at the mirror. I wasn't mad at the man staring back. Between the broad shoulders, muscular chest, and a dark dusting of black hair coating my torso, I bordered on perfection. The facial hair had transitioned from business stubble to a short beard, but otherwise, I wouldn't change a thing… almost.

Sitting in the middle of my chest, nearly three inches tall, a marquis-shaped gem. It had turned almost translucent, the lines fading like an old tattoo. Running my fingers over the surface, the crack in the middle stood out. Once filled with a swirling smoke, it now served as a reminder of all I had lost.

If I closed my eyes, I swore I heard its faint whispers calling to me like it had in the museum. A rare artifact from an ancient civilization, it once sat atop a pedestal, encased in glass for patrons to observe. But it had never been meant to sit idle, a jewel to admire. It wanted somebody worthy of its power. It only made sense to answer its call and buy it from the museum.

The power of darkness had been mine to command. I summoned shadows like weapons and bestowed its gift upon the worthy. It served as a catalyst to bestow order in Vanguard. I would have, if not for a single man.

"Bernard Castle." I whispered his name, as if Vanguard's most recognized hero might hear me. He had cracked the jewel, letting its power bleed away, leaving nothing but a cursed reminder of how far I had fallen.

I stepped into the shower, face pointed to the rainfall shower head. The water burned, hot enough to elicit a hiss while my skin adapted. With the jewel, I had been impervious, strong beyond belief, and nuisances like heat hardly mattered. Without it, I was nothing more than a man, a highly successful and powerful one, but still just a man. There was no chance I'd be able to compete should our paths cross.

The men mocked my obsession with Castle. But none of them had their chance at glory stolen out from under their feet. They might not be the most powerful, but they had powers nonetheless. If they had been reduced to a mere mortal, they'd fixate on the person who forced them there. My obsession was founded, and I'd have my revenge.

But how?

Water pelted my face, washing away the sweat. Even the post-orgasm bliss drowned under the image of Castle's face. I imagined my hands around his throat, squeezing the life from his body. But without the gem, it wouldn't come about. Until I restored my powers, I'd have to rely on mundane methods of retribution.

The guys jested about my lack of action. It was time to make good on my threats. If I couldn't destroy Castle with my hands, I'd treat him like a business competitor. In that regard, I had no equal. They wouldn't find it humorous as I robbed Castle of the things he held dear. I had been a titan long before I acquired powers.

Bernard Castle was about to regret the day he crossed me.