Page 13 of Castor

A warm body pressed up behind me, big hands gripping my hips, while I ground on the dude in front of me. Sweat dampened my skin, and the crowded bodies made it hotter. Lips glided across my nape, and I tipped my head back, hooking my arm behind the guy’s neck.

Half-naked males danced on raised platforms, some with tails, some with sharp fangs. Females spun around on poles, wearing spiked heels and thongs.

The nightclub welcomed everyone. Every species. Every sexuality. It was a safe place for all supernatural beings to go and let loose without the fear of discovery or violence. Over the past few months, I’d spent more time there than usual. Almost dying in the underworld had flipped a switch inside me. Made me somewhat of a loose cannon.

I was reckless. Obsessed with escapism, whether that be in the form of fast cars or the light-headedness that came from intoxication, gambling, and sex. Alastair had caught on to my downward spiral, despite my insistence that nothing was wrong.

I just couldn’t get it out of my head. The torture. The images Belphegor had put into my mind of each of my brothers dying. Physical torture I’d handled pretty well. They had beaten me with their fists, cut me with celestial blades, and burned my skin. But the psychological shit had been the worst of it.

“I’ll be right back,” I said to the dude behind me before making my way toward the bar.

I needed another drink. Preferably a strong one.

“Do I need to cut you off?” Konnar asked, appearing beside me. He owned the nightclub and had become a good friend over the years. Well, a close ally, at least. He was also a vampire. And a damn hot one at that with blond hair and purple eyes.

“Nah. I’m good.”

He studied me. “Not that I’m complaining about the business, but you’ve been in my club every night for the past two weeks. My ambrosia supply is dwindling.”

“I’ll drink blood, then.” It had a similar effect, gave me a nice high. As Nephilim, we didn’thaveto drink blood to survive like vampires did, but we had a craving for it nonetheless.

“That’s not what I meant.” Konnar sighed. “Alastair called me.”

“Fucking fantastic.” I rolled my eyes. “Let me guess. He told you to send me packing?”

“No. But he expressed his concern.”

“I’m fine,” I said, my earlier buzz beginning to wear off. “Or I will be once I get another drink in my system.”

“Castor.” Konnar grabbed my arm as I started to walk away. “I know it’s tempting to lose yourself in booze and sex. To use those things as an escape. But those distractions are a temporary fix. Do yourself a favor and go home. Sort out whatever dark shit is in your head.”

“That’s what I’m doing.” I pulled from his hold and continued toward the bar.

Deep down, I knew Konnar was right. Alastair was too. But honestly? I couldn’t bring myself to give enough of a fuck to change.

“Back for more?” Michael, the bartender, asked as he cleared the counter of empty shot glasses.

“Yep. My usual. But hold the ambrosia this time. I’ll have a vial of O-positive instead.”

“You got it.”

I rested against the counter as he made my drink. The club fluttered with activity. Two vamps fucked on the couch beside the bar. A human man was getting drilled into oblivion by a werewolf, his moans of ecstasy increasing with the pace of the wolf’s thrusts. Male faeries flew around the room, passing out shots, their wings moving so quickly it was hard to see them. Like hummingbirds.

“Is that you, Red?”

That voice.

I turned to see Kyo. The sight of him made my heart knock around in my chest. His black shirt was opened at the top, showing a peek of the tattoo on his chest, and his messily styled hair had that sexy bed head look to it. I wanted to run my fingers through it. Grab a tight handful of those dark strands and capture his sweet lips.

Fuck. What’s wrong with me?

“Uh. Hey,” I said, taken aback. “Haven’t seen you hang around here before.”

“Does that mean you’ve been looking for me?”

“No. Just making an observation.”

“Mhm.” Kyo rested an arm on the bar, his unique orange eyes on me. He hadn’t bothered wearing contacts to hide them. He didn’t need to.