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Chapter 18

Kostas

T hey stopped by Kostas’s apartment to clean themselves up. They had time to spare. Truth was, Kostas didn’t know how to find Carson unless he was at Phaze. Sure, he’d texted his boss, asked Carson if he’d be willing to meet him at the club an hour before opening, because they had something to discuss, but they weren’t the kind of buddies who met at a café to discuss their feelings.

The second Kostas had unlocked the door, Malcolm had stuck his head in. His lips had stretched into a thin line, he’d breathed in, and he’d forced the most insincere smile Kostas had ever seen.

“Cute,” he’d said, voice falsely pleasant.

Kostas scoffed. “You’re really bad at lying.”

“I am not! I’m really bad at being nice , there’s a difference.”

Kostas had pulled Malcolm against his side, kissed his forehead, and assured the incubus that he enjoyed him, every bit as prickly and mean as he wanted to be, before he’d tugged him toward the bathroom for a shower.

It was Saturday, and Kostas was scheduled to work. He’d ask off when he spoke to Carson. He’d take one look at Malcolm, who still looked so tired, so edgy, and he’d understand. Maybe even fill in for Kostas on bar.

Didn’t matter how it happened; Kostas couldn’t leave Malcolm alone. Maybe ever.

They got dressed, Malcolm in the clothes Kostas had brought with him to Lyric, when times had been hard and he had been running across the North American continent for months on his own. He’d been thinner then, and Malcolm was tall. With a few adjustments to the plain black T-shirt and jeans that’d been painted on when Kostas wore them—what? It’d been the style then—even Malcolm seemed satisfied.

Kostas felt edgy, going into Phaze that afternoon. He worried they were being watched, eyes following them all the way from the Poisonwood Forest. He dismissed his worry as simply being wary that this was near where Malcolm had been kidnapped the first time. It was true, but now, they were together. Kostas knew better than to let him disappear.

The inside of the club was dark, only the lights above the bar illuminating the whole place. There weren’t windows to let the sunlight in, and Kostas, who normally saw well in the dark, had to take a moment to adjust to the change.

He blinked, his vision cleared, and there was the shadow of Carson Castle, sitting at the bar, waiting for them.

“Hey, boss,” Kostas announced, taking Malcolm’s hand and leading him through the dark.

“Kostas,” Carson turned around, beaming at them. Something about his smile was plastic, false. Kostas had never noticed that before.

Malcolm, sensing trouble first, planted his feet.

“You brought a friend,” Carson said, sliding off the stool, approaching with his thumbs hooked in his pockets. His eyes slid over Malcolm, and he clicked his tongue. “Good. I thought we were going to have to hunt this one down.”

“Excuse me?” Malcolm snapped.

It only took a second for Carson’s smile to turn sharp. “You’ve been causing us trouble, little demon. It’s time for you to go back where you belong. Honestly, Kostas, I thought you were going to ask me for a raise. You certainly deserve one now. What would you say to four percent?”

Percent of what? was his first thought, before Malcolm hissed, and it hit him.

Four percent of whatever he could get for Malcolm. Dead or alive.

Carson raised an eyebrow. “I’ve got a buyer for five million. Four percent of five million is a chunk of change to a guy like you.”

Kostas growled, pushing Malcolm behind him as extra teeth grew through his gums. “This is all?—”

Carson. It was all Carson.

Everything fell into place. The shady businessmen who’d been frequenting the club. Why Malcolm hadn’t gone far before he’d been snatched—they’d been watching him, maybe also his father, since he’d come in. That young blonde on Elrith’s arm, maybe she’d just happened to come across the incubus and it was all a coincidence, but Kostas would swear that he’d seen her in the club before, talking to his boss.

“You’ll not have him.”

“Ten percent,” Carson countered immediately. “Kostas, I recognized you the moment I saw you. I know what you are , what your kind does .”

He held his hand back, and Malcolm clutched it, his little claws digging into the back of Kostas’s hand.

“You kill all the time. For fun, for sport. You eat the hearts, sure, but it’s not about that, is it? It’s about the hunt. The kill. Knowing you’re in charge.” An experience that was all too familiar to Carson Castle. “You’re a murderer.”

“If I am, why keep me around? Why take a chance on me when I could have killed you?”

“Because people think twice before stirring up trouble in shark-infested waters, pet. I needed you here. Who else could’ve kept those thugs in line? You’re useful.” Carson swaggered forward, one smooth step after the other, until he was standing right in front of Kostas, his hand held out to shake, to close a deal. “I hope you stay that way.”

“Fuck you,” Malcolm hissed.

Kostas glared until the human dropped his hand, all gratitude, all debt, fading away in the seconds after Carson revealed himself.

“It’ll be a pity to lose you, Kostas, but there are uses for sirens beyond mixology and murder. This can all go away. You can disappear too. Who would even notice?”

Carson’s cold eyes fell to Kostas’s side, to where he was gripping tight to the incubus’s hand.

“Or we can go back to the way things were. But you’ll have to let him go. I have no use for the demon,” Carson sneered. Then he bit his lip. His eyes tracked down Malcolm slowly, and a wave of rage crashed over Kostas, so loud and all-encompassing that he hardly heard the next words out of Carson’s mouth. “Well, perhaps one use . ”

Carson had underestimated what this was—what Malcolm was to Kostas, and what Kostas would do just for one smile from the incubus’s soft lips.

Next thing Kostas knew, Carson was making a sharp, rough sound, and Kostas’s hand stung. He’d torn it out of Malcolm’s grip, numb to the incubus’s nails skating across his skin, and plunged his fingers into Carson’s chest cavity.

His claws tore through skin and flesh. They lacerated bone. He snarled, and when his fist closed tight around Carson’s frantic beating heart, he smiled, and his mouth was filled with teeth.

Carson had betrayed him, had used him. Everything Kostas had feared of Malcolm had been there all along, in a mere human. He had taken Malcolm, threatened him, hurt him.

And now, his heart belonged to Kostas. He tore it out of the man’s chest, and Carson dropped to the ground with a thunk.

Kostas squeezed the warm flesh, felt its give, imagined it beating, and his mouth watered.