Page 2 of Their Reckless Thief (The Below #1)

I weaved through the throng of bodies as I made my way toward the tear in the Veil, the gateway between the human world and this twisted playground.

The line to get through snaked down the street, supernatural creatures of all kinds jostling for position, some impatiently shifting on their feet, others glaring with barely concealed disdain.

It was the only official way in and out of the human world, and everyone wanted their shot at getting through—whether to cause trouble or just taste the freedom of blending in with humans for a few hours.

They were technically only allowed through at night, though some occasionally snuck in during the day.

Most humans didn’t know what lurked beneath their world, and those who did wouldn’t say anything. The Below was a dangerous place, but the human world? It was just as deadly—in a quieter, more insidious way—especially at night when the monsters came out to play.

I sidestepped a demon with jagged horns protruding from his skull, his red eyes locking onto me with the kind of hunger that said he wasn’t just here for a stroll. I kept moving, ignoring the creatures waiting in line.

As I got closer to the tear, their murmurs turned into grumbles and protests. I could feel their eyes on me, feel the tension in the air as I bypassed the line completely.

“Hey! Where does that bitch think she’s going?” A tall vampire hissed, baring his fangs at me.

A shifter growled low in his throat. “We’ve been waiting for hours!”

I didn’t even bother turning my head as I flipped them the bird. Let them complain. I wasn’t just anybody here, and they knew it. The only thing stopping them from tearing into me was the fact that I wasn’t worth the trouble. Not when Carl was standing up front, the silent gatekeeper of the Veil.

Carl had been guarding the tear for as long as I could remember. He was a gruff, stocky stray—what the supernatural community called half-breeds, part magical creature and part human—with a face like a bulldog and a nose that had been broken one too many times, but I liked him.

He was a government employee, working directly for the Veil Guard, the governing body of The Below.

He didn’t care about politics or power plays.

He cared about getting through his shift without any fights breaking out.

And he cared about me for some reason. Probably because I brought him his favorite treats on a regular basis.

As I approached, he raised his head, his dark eyes catching mine. I smiled, tipping my head in a mock salute. “Evening, Carl. Mind if I skip the line?”

The protests behind me grew louder, a chorus of growls, snarls, and angry hisses.

Carl didn’t so much as blink. He gave me a once-over, his lips twitching like he was trying not to smile, then he stepped aside with a low grunt, revealing the tear in the Veil—a shimmering, rippling distortion in the atmosphere, almost like a heatwave in the middle of the street.

“Be my guest, Celeste.” He winked. “Try to stay out of trouble this time, huh?”

I grinned. “What, me? Trouble? Never.”

With a wink, I stepped toward the tear, feeling the familiar pulse of magic brushing against my skin.

The creatures behind me let out a collective groan of frustration, but no one dared challenge Carl.

The air around the tear buzzed, warm and tingling like static, and as I got closer, there was a faint pull, like gravity shifting ever so slightly.

I’d passed through the Veil hundreds of times, but it never lost its kick. It was the divide that kept humans blissfully ignorant of places like The Below, where danger was a lifestyle choice. Crossing it was like stepping between realities, and I always made sure to do it in style.

“Carl, you’re the only reason I bother coming back. Expect a dirty Christmas card from me this year,” I called over my shoulder.

His cheeks turned pink. “Stay safe, Celeste,” he rumbled, chuckling lightly.

The moment I stepped through the tear, the world shifted.

The humid, electric chaos of The Below evaporated as the brisk evening air of the human city wrapped around me.

I inhaled deeply, the crisp scent of autumn filling my lungs.

Gone was the cloying tang of magic and damp stone, replaced by something more grounded: the faint hint of roasting chestnuts from a street vendor, the acrid waft of car exhausts, and the unmistakable salty tang of the Hudson River nearby.

The familiar sounds of New Jersey life greeted me: the distant wail of a siren, the hum of traffic from the turnpike, and the occasional rumble of a PATH train rushing through the underground tunnels below.

Streetlights blinked on overhead, casting long, uneven shadows across the cracked pavement.

This wasn’t Manhattan’s glittering skyline, but it was mine.

And Newark had its own kind of magic—gritty, unrelenting, and entirely human.

I tugged my leather jacket tighter against the chill as I strode past the cluster of late-night bodegas and graffiti-tagged walls. “Vivian?” I called, my voice low but steady.

“I’m here,” came her reply, clear over the line. “Carl let you through without any problems?”

I stepped around a broken beer bottle glinting in the fading light. “Of course. You know I don’t do lines.”

Vivian chuckled. “Cocky. But we both know it’s because Carl likes you.”

I shrugged even though she couldn’t see me, my boots tapping against the cracked concrete. “Whatever works.” I passed a steaming halal cart, the spicy scent of lamb and onions making my stomach grumble, but there was no time to stop. Not tonight.

Roberto was tucked away in his office in one of the older brownstones downtown and waiting for my report.

He wasn’t exactly the patient type, and the fact that I’d completed another job unscathed wouldn’t be enough to appease him.

He liked to remind me—and everyone else in his circle—who held the reins.

I crossed a busy intersection as the light changed, the sharp blare of a horn behind me making me pick up my pace.

Just as I reached his building, an older structure that had seen better days but still exuded an air of quiet power, a psychic vision slammed into me.

I was in my bedroom, on my bed. Everything looked normal except a strange man was lying next to me. He had brown, shaggy hair and was shirtless. Multiple tattoos stretched over his ripped chest and arms. Gods, he was sexy as fuck.

The scent of his warm, masculine skin assaulted my senses as he climbed on top of me and hovered over my body, his gaze intense, though I couldn’t focus on his face.

It was blurry, and I couldn’t make out the details.

His rough hands gripped my shoulders tightly as if he needed something tangible to hold on to while his lips grazed over my neck to my earlobe.

His hot breath tickled my skin, and my stomach fluttered uncontrollably. This man knew what he was doing.

He planted a soft kiss on that sensitive spot below my ear before speaking in a low voice that sent tremors throughout my entire body.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he growled against my skin, his voice thick and rough around the edges like sandpaper against silk.

“I can’t wait to taste every inch of you.

” His words sent shockwaves through me, making me desperate for more.

This man seemed real… the weight of him on me felt real… and his strong arms holding me down as he took one of my nipples into his mouth certainly felt fucking real. His mouth was hot on my hard nipple, and I gasped as he flicked it with his tongue.

The room turned hazy around us. I couldn’t focus on anything but the heat radiating off him and his muscles flexing with every labored breath he took. Time stood still as we locked gazes, and that’s when I recognized him.

My heart stuttered. Dorian Voss. He was one of the mafia lords posted on Roberto’s wall. Why in the actual the fuck were his hands on me? I’d never met the guy, and I didn’t intend to.

“Time to find out if you taste as good as you smell, Celeste.” He growled, and the look in his eyes told me he was as eager as I was for his mouth to touch me. He stared down at my sex as if admiring a piece of renowned artwork.

His rough hands slid down my sides, tracing every curve and dip, stopping at my hips before slowly pushing my legs wider apart. I whimpered as anticipation coiled in my belly.

He lowered his head between my thighs, inhaling sharply at the scent of my arousal.

His tongue flicked out, tasting me for the first time, and I let out a soft moan despite myself.

He moaned along with me as if the action was just as pleasurable for him.

As if he were tasting the most delectable dessert.

Gods, the man was gifted. His fingers danced along the inside of my thighs, teasingly close, as he made art with his tongue on my clit. The sensation overwhelmed me.

“Please,” I managed to whisper, trembling under his touch.

His stubble brushed against my sensitive folds as he licked and kissed his way upward.

I gasped as he slid one finger, then two, into me, stretching me slowly.

His other hand moved to cup my breast, squeezing gently as he thrust his fingers slowly in and out of my pussy, never ceasing the ministrations of his tongue.

Helpless to the pleasure, I arched into him as another finger joined the two inside of me.

The vision ended abruptly. I grasped the door handle, panting heavily.

Holy fuck.

What the fuck was that? And, more importantly, why was Dorian fucking Voss lapping at my vagina like he hadn’t eaten in days?

My panties were soaked. How could I walk into a meeting like that? Although, one look at Roberto, and I knew I’d be dry as a bone.

After giving myself another moment to regain control of my breathing, I shook the vision off and walked up the stairs to Roberto’s office.