Page 74

“You want out?” Malakai demanded, voicing the question she was sure was spinning through everyone’s mind at that second. “Since when? What for?” His eyes flicked to Loren, and understanding smoothed his expression. “Ah, for some sweet pussy.”

Darien’s next words lashed out like a whip. “Don’t you talk about her like that.”

“It’s okay,” Loren cut in, her tone teasing. “Besides, he isn’t exactly wrong. Is he, Darien?”

Malakai barked a laugh. “I like this one. She can take a joke.”

Although Darien still looked pissed off by Malakai’s comment, he let it slide, raising a brow in question. “So, what do you say?”

Malakai thought it through. He looked at his Reapers, then up at the chandelier—and the bat hanging from it. “It’s no secret that I don’t trust you, so I’m a little reluctant to believe all of this.”

“We used to be friends, Malakai. You were the one who threw that out the window, remember? And for what? Some childish jealousy? You let Randal’s power rankings drive us apart.” The intensity on his face thawed. “You did that, Malakai. Not me.”

Silence swept in again, and so did the ticking of that noisy clock.

Finally, Malakai held up a scarred finger. “If I find out you’re playing me—”

“You don’t need to worry about that because I’m not. I’m not playing you, I swear on my life.” Loren felt Darien’s attention fall upon her as he added, “I swear on her life.”

A rosy feeling washed through her. She understood that his words were a declaration, one that confirmed Darien could be trusted. He’d walked in here with her by his side, allowing Malakai to see exactly where he would need to hit him to do the most damage, should Darien decide to double-cross him. And she knew it was killing him to do it—the fact that he’d tried for nearly an hour to convince her to stay at Hell’s Gate was evidence of that—but it was what they needed right now to seal the deal he was making with the Reapers.

Loren stared at Darien, and he stared back. For a minute, everything and everyone melted away, leaving the two of them floating in their own private bubble.

When Malakai spoke again, his voice held no animosity. “I can feel it. What you have with her.”

Darien didn’t answer. Another beat passed as he looked at her, and then his eyes flicked over her shoulder. “Did you renovate the bar?”

Loren turned to see what he was looking at. The bar was entirely black, same with the liquor cabinets and leather barstools. Black skulls and crystal ornaments decorated the onyx countertop. Even the sink was matte-black.

Malakai said, “Last summer.”

“If you’re open for a discussion, I wouldn’t mind a drink.”

That made the Reaper grin. “Oh, I bet you wouldn’t.”

The sound of the front door swinging open with a bang halted all conversation.

“MalakaaAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!” a female voice wailed. An upset one, by the sound of it.

When Valen spoke, there was genuine concern in his words. “Oh no.” He shared a weighted look with Sylvan.

A set of swift boots pounded on the floor, and a moment later, a girl with moon-white skin and lilac hair swung around the corner, pale hands in tight fists. She wore an outfit of all-black leather—a mini skirt, a crop top, and combat boots with a chunky heel. Her big eyes, lined in dark kohl, scanned the room until they zeroed in on the leader of the Reapers.

“What the hell did you say to him?” Her top lip—colored with black lipstick—curled back over her teeth.

Malakai managed to look convincing as he said, “Who?”

“My date, you ignoramus!”

“Ah, him.” His face smoothed with feigned understanding. “A few words of warning, as I do all the guys who take you out.”

With a baring of straight teeth, she held up an index finger. “That is going to stop right this instant. Do you hear me?”

Malakai made the mistake of laughing. He looked at Valen and Sylvan, who laughed as well, and soon the twin males were joining in. Loren remembered their names were Brodie and Macen Verlice. She’d never seen them before, but like most of the Darkslayers, she’d heard of them. They were brown-skinned and brawny, with dark hair cropped close to their heads.

“This isn’t funny, you buffoon!” the girl fumed. “I don’t have much time left, and I need my fill of good dick. Got it?” That made several of the guys in the room—a few of them Devils—snicker.

Loren wondered what the girl meant by not having much time left.