Page 37 of The Lies Of Omission (Without Limits #3)

And then he came to me. Not by name. Not by will. He just rose out of the rot in my chest, uninvited but always welcome. I pulled the memory of his mouth from deep inside me, the way it curled when he smiled that secret smile meant only for me. The way his breath hitched when I touched his skin.

The way he looked at me like I wasn’t broken.

My hand tightened in her hair, but in my mind, it was Theo’s strands in my grip, dark and soft, thick between my fingers as he looked up at me with those eyes—full of defiance, full of hunger, full of fucking everything I tried to forget.

A moan slipped out of me and it felt wrong. Too loud. Too fake. She smiled around my length, thinking it was for her. It wasn’t.

Every time I tried to chase pleasure into oblivion, Theo was the one waiting at the end of it, sitting in my bloodstream like a curse. I used her mouth like a weapon, like a shield, trying to smother the ache. But it didn’t work. It never fucking worked.

I saw his smirk when he teased me. I saw his jaw clenched in fury when we fought. I saw the tears on his cheek when I walked away. The hurt in his voice when he didn’t believe me.

My pulse stuttered. My cock finally twitched with the memory of his voice whispering my name like a sin and a salvation all at once.

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, eyes shutting tight as my body started to catch up to the fantasy I was feeding it.

She moaned around me like she thought she was the reason for it. I let her. But inside, I was unraveling.

This was a punishment. A performance. A ritual I’d done too many times to count, chasing numbness with every orgasm, chasing a void with someone else’s hands. But there was no peace waiting for me at the end of this.

There was only Theo. There was always Theo. And I hated him for it.

I hated that he lived beneath my skin, that I couldn’t breathe without tasting him, that each body I touched left me emptier than the last because none of them were his.

I looked down at her, face smeared with spit and hunger and something like victory. I offered her a smile I didn’t feel, fingers stroking her cheek in a way that probably passed for tenderness.

But I was somewhere else.

The pleasure finally came—but it felt like grief. Like mourning. The last breath before drowning. It hit all at once, too fast, too much. My hands clenched, my spine arched, and for a second, it felt like I could breathe again—like I could feel again.

But then it was over. I didn’t say a word.

Didn’t look back. Just zipped up, walked out through the first exit I could find, and lit a cigarette with fingers that wouldn’t stop shaking.

Pretended I hadn’t just used someone else’s body like a fucking Ouija board—trying to summon a ghost I knew would never come back.

The cold hit me like a punch, slicing through the sweat still clinging to my skin. I stumbled down a narrow alleyway, the bass from the club pulsing behind me like a fading heartbeat.

The air stank of rot and something coppery—blood, maybe—and it drowned out everything else. My head thudded against the damp brick wall once, twice, hard enough to hurt, but not enough to ground me.

I dragged in another lungful of smoke, holding it until my chest burned. My eyes slid shut. And the tears started to fall again.

Silent. Violent. Salt tracked down my cheeks in burning streaks, carving through the grime and sweat. It was the kind of crying that didn’t make a sound—just cracked you open from the inside.

Somehow, I didn’t notice the sound at first. The sharp skitter of glass across uneven pavement, followed by the soft tink of it shattering against stone. It barely registered. Then the low moan hit me.

I opened my eyes, slow and heavy, vision warping around the edges. Across the road, the streetlight flickered like dying Morse code—yellow, then black, then back again.

And under that sputtering halo of light—a man stood with his back to the wall, his head tipped back, lips parted in something between a grin and a snarl. His hair was stark black, but a patch at the front was white as bone, glinting like a beacon.

At his feet—on his knees—was another guy. Hands braced on the man’s thighs, mouth stretched wide, throat working in slow, desperate pulls like he was trying to breathe through him.

Like he’d die if he stopped.

A sound ripped from my chest—low, rough, almost a laugh. “Fuck, that’s hot,” I muttered, dragging on my cigarette like it was the only thing anchoring me.

And then the guy looked up. Those eyes. Icy blue. Piercing. They sliced straight through me like I wasn’t even there, but still somehow the only thing he saw.

He grinned. A slow, wicked thing that felt like a threat and a promise rolled into one. His fingers curled into the hair of the man at his feet and he fucked into his mouth with the kind of vicious rhythm that spoke of ownership, of cruelty, of pleasure sharpened to a blade.

I couldn’t move.

I was frozen—glued to the spot, lungs tight, arousal coiling in my gut like a serpent. That wasn’t sex. It was worship. It was destruction. And I was watching the altar burn.

The guy on his knees choked, but didn’t pull back. Didn’t dare. He gripped harder, gagged around him, took it. Took everything.

The patch-haired stranger never looked away from me. Not once. His stare crawled down my spine. He was chaos. He was violence in silk. A hurricane in a smirk.

He pulled out, and yanked the other guy up to his mouth, devouring his spit slick lips.

“Sin!”

Thalia’s voice echoed down the alley, sharp and commanding, slicing through the pulsing bass that leaked from the club’s walls. It dragged my attention away from the shadows where the guys had disappeared moments before.

I turned, just as her heels clicked against the pavement, her silhouette framed by the glow of neon spilling from the doorway behind her. Her hands were planted on her hips, mouth twisted in mock irritation, dark curls wild from dancing.

“There you are!” she huffed, grabbing my arm like I’d personally offended her by stepping outside for a quick smoke.

“You could have told me.” She snatched my cigarette, taking a quick puff before flicking it away.

“Claire just brought over a round of shots, and if you think we’re letting you skip out on them, you’ve lost your goddamn mind. ”

“I needed a minute?—”

“Nope. Not allowed,” she cut in with a grin that didn’t leave room for argument. “Come on. You’re already three drinks behind, and she picked the ones that come with fire, sparklers, or whatever chemical reaction bartenders are into this week.”

Before I could argue, she was dragging me back down the alley, her grip firm as steel and just as unrelenting.

The music grew louder with every step, thumping through the soles of my boots, vibrating up into my ribs.

The moment we pushed through the doors, heat and bodies closed in, the scent of sweat, spilled liquor, and perfume curling around me like a second skin.

Claire was at the edge of the bar with two shot glasses in each hand, eyes already on us. She lit up when she spotted me, thrusting one my way. “There he is! I thought you’d pulled a ghost move.”

“Not with her dragging me around like a pissed-off goddess,” I smirked, taking the shot Claire handed me.

“Damn right.” Thalia winked, downing her own and slamming the empty glass on the bar top. “Now drink. Then we dance.”

I tipped the shot back, throat burning, eyes watering slightly as the alcohol hit hard and fast. Whatever Claire had ordered—it was lethal.

She grabbed my wrist as I lowered the glass. “Come on, Dark Prince. You’re not getting out of this one.”

Thalia looped her arm through mine on the other side, practically vibrating with energy. “Back into the pit we go.”

And just like that, they dragged me back onto the dance floor, into the fray of bodies and light and sound. The beat dropped hard, the bass a relentless, living thing that thudded in time with my heartbeat.

Claire twirled in front of me, her grin wicked and daring, while Thalia threw her hands in the air, her hips already rolling with the rhythm, hair sticking to her skin with sweat and glitter.

For a second, I forgot everything. Here, in this moment, under these lights, surrounded by fire and chaos and beautiful madness—I let go. And let them drag me under.