Page 38

ROMAN

The fact I don’t feel any shame right now is a fucking problem.

What the hell was I thinking, following Gwyn in here once I realized it was her on the dance floor?

The blonde hair had thrown me off, but I’m only slightly irritated I could still tell it was her from across the room.

Her hair color is the only thing about her that’s changed.

She’s still soft and sweet, still fucked in the head, and I still want to kill her.

Turning toward the conveniently located urinal, I take a piss, mindful of the split stream.

I do my best to ignore the woman pulling her shirt out of the sink.

“Talk about post nut clarity,” Gwyn says as she leans forward to look in the mirror. Mascara streaks down her face and under any other circumstance, I’d be hard again because of it.

“What?” I ask, not sure what the fuck she’s saying. She has a hair tie on her wrist, and I take it before she has a chance to stop me.

“Hey!” she says, but I’ve already tossed my hair up. “You and that slutty little man bun, I swear to god,” she mumbles.

“Slutty man bun?” I ask. “Post nut clarity? What the fuck are you on about?”

After tugging her shirt over her head, she wets a wad of toilet paper beneath the faucet. Scrubbing at the makeup, she leans closer to the mirror as she inspects the dark trails on her skin. Her shirt is tight and low-cut, and her tits look great as usual in the mirror’s reflection.

“It’s that moment after you come, and it hits you just how much of an idiot you are.

” She starts to ramble, waving a hand at me as she continues wiping her face.

“Because it’s you and you have that stupid face and your slutty, little man bun.

You’re just…” she sighs. “Impossible.” She turns to the side trying to catch what the back of her head looks like in her reflection.

Gwyn runs her fingers through her hair, attempting to tame the tangles made when I had her pinned up against the wall.

I don’t bother asking about the blonde because I don’t fucking care. It doesn’t matter either that I prefer the black.

“I assume you feel it too?” she asks, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“It was inevitable,” I admit, and I immediately regret it. It sounds like a kindness. It sounds like I’m commiserating with her. And that’s certainly not the case.

Thankfully, Gwyn stays silent. She turns on the faucet once more, wetting her fingertips before rubbing away dried blood on her lips.

I don’t know why the fuck I feel like I have to say something.

“But this, this doesn’t?—”

“Change anything. Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“Good.”

She reaches for the paper towel dispenser and finds it empty. “Fuck me. ‘Need change for the machine?’” she says in a deep voice, crossing her arms and lowering her brows. With a jut of her chin toward the old-school condom dispenser, she scowls at me. I can’t help but snort.

“Messy sluts have messy problems.”

“You’re just as much of a slut as I am, you know.”

“I know,” I say, but I glance between her legs and see the evidence of what we did smeared on her inner thigh.

I swallow down what can only be described as ego over the fact that anyone who goes near her will know she’s not up for grabs.

Because anyone who goes near her will have to contend with me.

I don’t know why it gives me a thrill—it fucking shouldn’t.

“Move,” I say, and she steps back from the sink so I can wash my hands.

Unlike her, I avoid the mirror. I don’t need to see the faint flush of my cheeks or the indecision hiding behind my frustration. Because I meant what I said about this being inevitable, and right now, I’m pretty sure it’s going to happen again.

And again and again in an endless cycle until one of us kills the other.

Gwyn’s adjusting her clothing and using toilet paper to wipe between her legs when I check my phone. I notice the time is a little after midnight, and I realize I brought in the new year balls-deep inside Gwyn. God dammit.

I swear when I see a missed notification, and I immediately return the missed call.

“Everything okay?” I ask, worried Margot will tell me something is wrong with my brother.

“What did you do at Sanguivita?”

“Nothing,” I say. “What do you mean?”

“Just got a text from one of the fledglings about a body.” Gwyn stops what she’s doing and looks up at me, clearly having heard what Margot said.

“I turned on the scanner and it sounds like O’Brien is the responding unit, so hopefully it’s not a big deal.

Why is it so quiet on your end? Where are you? ”

“Everything else okay?” I ask, not willing to say my brother’s name in front of Gwyn. Obviously, I don’t answer any of Margot’s questions.

“Still great. Love you, have fun!”

“Have fun?” I ask, confused, and she laughs before hanging up. “Fuck, bye.”

“Did she say there was a dead body?” Gwyn asks, faking nonchalance as she throws away cum-soaked toilet paper.

She turns to the sink and washes her hands, and she somehow makes it look like cleaning up from a bathroom quickie is beneath her.

Head held high and back straight, she appears too dignified for something so debasing.

“Yeah. Might not be related to Sanguivita. If it got called in, the victim was outside.”

“You still have to go handle it , don’t you?

” she asks, and I suddenly realize I’m being too casual with her.

The instinct to answer and include her in the conversation, to give her trust she doesn’t deserve?

What the hell am I thinking? I don’t know how the fuck I’m supposed to focus when she’s as hot as she is and her cunt feels as good as it does, and I’m some kind of moron who thought I could get close without it going too far.

Because proximity to Gwyn is the danger.

She’s more than her thick body and her pouty mouth and her greedy pussy.

I’d been attracted to her kindness and empathy in spite of what life had thrown at her before she showed her true colors.

And now? I’d be lying if I said her intelligence is unattractive.

I just hate how she proved it by making me into a fool. By keeping my brother away from me.

If it weren’t for the treachery, she’d be fucking perfect. But I don’t think there’s a world that exists in which I could let that shit go.

“You should leave,” I say. “Why the fuck are you here anyway?”

Her cheeks turn red, and she looks away. Gwyn snags her phone out of her bra, and I don’t know why I find it ridiculously amusing that it stayed put while I fucked her.

She catches my smile though, and it’s my turn to look away.

“Hale is meeting me,” she says. “Oh, fuck, he’s actually—Oh my god, he’s here. You’re here! You can’t be here—with me. I can’t be here with you,” she stutters.

“Yeah, no shit.”

I have a dead body to handle, so I don’t hesitate as I unlock the door and walk out into chaos.

All of the humans in the bar have been corralled on the dance floor, and vampires stand a large, guarded, and visibly distressed circle around them.

“Fancy seeing you here, boss.”

“Nico,” I say, finding my long-legged friend unfolding himself from the bar. He looks over my shoulder and his brows lift. He’s smart enough to shut the fuck up about whatever he sees. Which is undoubtedly Gwyn, emerging from a dark hallway behind me, with my scent all over her.

“I know what this looks like.”

“Like your first vampire murder as king?” Nico says, and I’m gracious for his change in the subject.

“I don’t like that ,” I say, grimacing at the title. My father might have fashioned himself as regent, but I don’t have any intention of doing so. “When did you get here?”

“Right after O’Brien. He let me in.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Gwyn move toward the door. O’Brien, one of the more easygoing cops that Bjorn had on his payroll, stands alongside the bouncers, and they stop her from leaving. She’s scanning the crowd, probably looking for Hale, but I don’t see her friend anywhere.

“What’s going on exactly?”

“O’Brien has to take someone in because a group of tourists saw the body.”

“Fuck. Man or woman?”

“Man,” Nico answers. “He wanted to have them compelled, but someone posted a picture on the internet ,” he sneers. Nico is such an old fucking man about technology—unless it’s Sudoku on his phone.

I sigh, watching the guy I recognize as the bar owner shout something at the humans, wanting one of them to take the fall. This is the last thing I want to deal with right now, but this shit is my responsibility now.

“Did you see the body?”

“Yeah. Looks like a misplaced bite that didn’t get healed. Sloppy fledgeling shit or demon blood maybe. I guess the human ordered an Uber but died before it showed up, and the driver is the one who called it in.”

The humans are agitated—angry and scared or so drunk they can’t stand.

As I approach them, I pass the bar, and I grab a broken glass sitting in a bus bin.

Clapping the bar owner on his shoulder, I grasp at a memory for his name, but I only come up with the letter J.

Perhaps it’s Jason or John or maybe just plain Jay. Who knows.

“Find me three regulars,” I say, and everyone goes quiet as they realize who I am.

Chills creep up my spine as I hear my last name whispered on vampire tongues.

And then my father’s name. My uncle’s. Word has gotten around.

Half the people here are unattached to a coven, unwilling to submit to Bjorn, and have come out of hiding after his death.

I shouldn’t care what they think, but part of me worries they’ll make a move on my people.

On the coven I don’t want and haven’t earned.

The bar owner brings over three humans. Two of them are drunk and barely standing, and the third is twitching as he looks around the room.

He falls to the ground after I punch him in the face.

“What the fuck, John?” he shouts while holding his nose and glaring up at the man who brought him over.

“ You defended yourself after he hit you ,” I say, the coercion of this human coming easy. “ You grabbed this broken glass and hit him with it. ” I shove it into his hand, and I make sure it slices his palm open.

“ You saw him do it ,” I command the other two, who both nod, their expressions barely changing.

“No one else saw anything,” I direct John, and he and the staff start compelling the rest of the humans.

I text Margot to get in contact with the coven’s lawyer, and everything is buttoned up within a few minutes. It’s strange how all of it came so easily. I’d done this kind of shit before, and it’s not like my father actually went out to handle problems like this, but it feels natural.

When Nico approaches, he doesn’t tell me he’s proud because that would be fucking strange and infantilizing, but he doesn’t have a critique either.

John comes over while his staff finishes compelling the humans.

“Hey, man. I probably should have come to see you sooner, but with the whole…” he trails off, waiting for me to supply the word for the bullshit that has happened with the coven since Gwyn killed my father, but I simply stare at him instead.

“Well, your old man hated me and my bar, and, well, I just wanted to say thanks. For being cool.”

“Keep the demon blood shit out of here, and we’ll stay cool,” I warn.

John looks away for a moment, towards the humans, sucking his teeth. “Yeah, I, uh, don’t know how to go about that, considering my co-owner is a demon.”

“Who?” I ask, but I suspect the answer before he gives it.

“I’m not supposed to say his name, but I think he’s one of the big ones.”

“Is he currently a small woman slinging drinks at the bar?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.”

Another problem for another fucking time.

A few minutes later, O’Brien is escorting the unlucky scapegoat outside when I realize I hadn’t kept an eye on Gwyn. I don’t see her in the crowd, but it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t matter.

“Where’s Hale?” I ask, and Nico shrugs.

“Probably outside still. He had a phone call, so he waited around the corner where he thought it would be quieter.”

“How many cruisers are out there?”

“Just one and the ambulance. He said he’d keep it low-key. Don’t worry.”

But there’s nothing low-key about the woman’s scream as the first few humans leave the bar. It’s when I realize that it’s Gwyn screaming that my eyes bulge, and I’m moving without thought, not sure what the fuck I’m going to find.