by Heather Long
He couldn’t even stand to smell her.
His constant raging cock had vanished without a trace, until the imposter was gone and his mind returned to Dahlia.
Because that woman hadn’t been Dahlia. Whether Tarus played with her or not, Zhan had no idea. He hadn’t seen his brother after he took her away. The loss so profound, the house felt hollow. He didn’t even want to go down to the playroom anymore.
Pushing open the double-doors that led to the veranda running along the second story of their house, he gazed out at the yellow-green grass in the distance. The heat pounded against his wet skin, but the humidity did little to dislodge the moisture. His wings ached. The only sounds filling the hot afternoon air was that of birds in the distance, a trickle in the creek running along the southwest edge of the property. The occasional snort of one of the horses and the flick of their tails.
Peaceful.
Steady.
That was what they’d wanted from this place when they’d made it.
A haven they carved out away from humanity’s careless and often deadly mistakes.
“Tell me,” Zhan demanded, even as Tarus stared at her. She couldn’t see his brother’s eyes or the heat flashing in them. Tarus played with their women, but he didn’t look at them. But how could they not look at Dahlia? She was incandescent. Zhan could taste her desire, the musk of her need ringing through him like a perfume. They still needed to know what she was. What had happened? Who was Bish to her?
So many questions. He tugged her hair in an effort to get her attention back on him.
No, that was a lie. He’d fisted that mass of gorgeous, silken strands and tugged it because he wanted to see her face.
“Yes,” she sobbed with the release. It vibrated the air around them like a tuning fork. If he hadn’t already been hard, he would have been stone. “Anything.”
“Who are you?”
“Yours.” The desperation in that whisper stunned him. “Yours.”
The resonance of truth had terrified him.
And nothing he did got her out of his head.
Whipping around, he strode back inside and dressed. Not waiting for Tarus. Not even bothering to tell him anything. Zhan headed for Sinner’s. If he couldn’t get answers from Dahlia, he’d get them out of Bish or Karmen, or whatever other twisted one of their kind lingered there. The bar was a crossroads of sorts, and Zhan was exceptionally cross.
The fact that he might see Dahlia had nothing to do with his choice.
Nothing at all.
Tonight was a busy night at the bar, like every Saturday. Ignorant humans danced and laughed, drinking way too much alcohol for their measly livers to process. As Zhan passed one particularly drunk man at a high top, he deflated from the all too common sorrow. This man had lost his wife and child in a car wreck less than a year before. Every day since, he’d drunk himself into a stupor to the point his liver was failing. His days were numbered.
How was that justice?
It wasn’t. The man had done good things in his life, and now he would die of grief.
Just like Dahlia should have died at the hands of her abusive boyfriend.
The ratio of Keepers to humans tonight was slim. He spotted Quetta behind the bar, but that was normal. She thrived on the stupidity of humans, so why not work every chance she got?
Karmen was nowhere to be seen, however, a despondent Bish slouched over the bar, two empty glasses and one half full one sat in front of him, as if he’d been there for a while.
Not unusual to see him holding up a spot here, he was actually quite the regular, but the dark amber liquid was unusual.
No liquor for Bish tonight. Instead, he had the faintly luminescent Nectar of the Gods. It was the only drink guaranteed to put a Keeper on his ass.
Also the drink of choice for Zhan and Tarus. Sometimes it was too tempting to numb the constant demand of their grace. Others probably thought it was easy for them to sit back and do nothing.
It fucking wasn’t.
Zhan fought every day to stay sane, and somewhere along the way, they’d succeeded in dulling the senses enough that it had hardened his heart.
Then there was the sensuous beauty who tugged at his emotions and his cock. Never had he experienced something so pure as the desire he experienced each time he laid eyes on her.
He would say it was a fluke, a random reaction that any one in a billion humans could evoke from one of his kind. But something was off, and if Dahlia wasn’t here, not that he had hoped to see her, then he could get the answer from Bish.
They’d never been friends, but they hadn’t been enemies either. He was actually tolerable once upon a time.
No, Zhan couldn’t ever have hung out with him for any period of time. The fucker only ever wanted to play with dogs, train dogs, or since the invention of smart ass T-shirts, wear a dog-loving wardrobe. Sometimes, he even smelled like the dogs he loved so much. Zhan liked animals. He didn’t like them that much.
The stool next to him opened up, and Zhan stealthily slid onto it, without Bish even noticing.
Keepers had an aura, a heavy air draping around them. Even if they never saw the Keeper, they’d know one was close by just by the change in atmosphere.
Here? Not a chance.
Sinner’s was one of only a handful of places where Keepers on both sides of the line felt comfortable enough to mingle. With each other, with humans.
“Bish.” The name was foreign on his tongue, not having directly spoken to the man in almost two thousand years.
He barely twitched, emitting a deep snore that ended on a snort.
“Hey, hun. He’s been like this for hours. Came in around ten this morning and started drinking. Don’t bother trying to rouse him, he’s too gone in the cup. Do you want something?”
Quetta was probably one of the only Keepers he actually spoke to with any regularity outside of Tarus, but that was more out of necessity than anything.
No one could drink in a bar without speaking to the bartender.
“Just a vodka and cranberry,” he said as he studied Bish. The man looked peaceful in his sleep. But that couldn’t be the case if he’d felt the need to drink himself stupid.
Quetta came back with his drink and shuffled to the other end of the bar as patrons called her name, leaving him alone with the one person who could shed any light on who Dahlia actually was.
Leaning down, he placed his lips to his ear and screamed, “Wake up!”
Bish jumped and knocked over his remaining glass of Nectar, cursing and reaching blindly for napkins behind the bar.
“What in hell are you doing? Do you like terrorizing people who are minding their own business?!” he yelled, cutting a confused and slightly disoriented look Zhan’s way.
Zhan actually wasn’t in the habit of terrorizing people. He also didn’t talk, drink, or even breathe the same air as anyone outside of Tarus and Quetta. It should have been impossible in Sinner’s to be so disconnected from humanity, but it surprisingly wasn’t.
And he liked it that way. Observe, but don’t interfere.
“Glad you could stir from your slumber to speak with me.” Zhan picked up his drink and tossed it back in one gulp. Vodka, like all other alcohol, wouldn’t be able to even give him a buzz, but he liked the tart flavor of the drink.
“Oh, is that what I’m doing? I thought you were inviting me for a little bed play.” Now that the mess in front of Bish was now a pile of wet napkins and sticky counter, he slid a little to the left, away from Zhan, and started to lower his head onto his crossed arms.
Not allowing him to get that far, Zhan snagged the back of his shirt and held him in place, drawing a tired sigh from Bish.
“What do you want?”
What did Zhan want? He wanted more information on Dahlia. He wanted to know how Bish was connected to her, but most importantly, he just wanted her.
Dahlia tied up in his playroom, begging so sweetly for the relief only he could provide. Or wrapped up tight in his ropes, offer
ing herself for him to do anything he pleased. Maybe even to pick apart and put back together, because surely then he would know why he couldn’t shake her.
She was a Chinese finger trap, snaring him, and the more he tried to push her out of his thoughts, the more she burrowed deep.
“I want to know why you’re hanging out with one of them. That’s not really your style, is it, Bish? Or maybe it is, considering your grace.” He shrugged, hoping his subtle taunts would rile the other man.
It didn’t, damn it.
Bish smirked and cupped Zhan’s cheek, swiping his thumb seductively over the smooth skin. It did nothing for Zhan, and he let his boredom show on his face.
“You’re a hard nut to crack aren’t you, Zhan?” Bish dropped his hand and propped his elbows on the wooden bar. “Why is she so important to you? You had every opportunity to save her, but you and Tarus did what you always do, which was a lot of fucking nothing. I don’t know why you even torture yourself by coming here. If you’re not going to use your grace, so what’s the point?” He really was perplexed.
Why did they come here? Because it was a reminder of why they fell. Not that he would ever spill his deepest, darkest secrets to Bish.
“Why are you getting fucked up on a Saturday instead of using your grace? This is prime time for you, isn’t it?”
The first few notes of an old Aerosmith song trickled through the premium sound system overhead. A loud whoop went up from the crowd behind him as they started to sing along.
“And since when have you cared about anyone other than yourself or Tarus?” Bish pinned him with such a startlingly knowing gaze, Zhan’s spine locked up.
Four days ago. That was when he started caring. From the moment he locked eyes with Dahlia, right before her boyfriend shook her, yelling in her face.
Cutting to the quick, he leaned forward and lowered his voice. “How do you know Dahlia? And don’t pretend you don’t have some connection to her. When she sat with you at the bar, all of her body language screamed familiarity. That wasn’t the first time you met.”
Zhan dared him to deny it with his gaze. He fucking dared him to say he didn’t know her. Wasn’t drawn to her.
Bish did neither.
“Ah, so she told you her name when you took her? Did you fuck her, too?” Derision dripped from his words. “I’ll tell you what I told your brother, leave her alone. She isn’t for you.” He dropped a stack of cash on the bar and stood to leave.
Yeah, Zhan wasn’t going to let him go without some answers. Instead, he said the one thing he knew would enrage him. Desperate longing was written all over Bish, just like it shrouded Zhan, and even Tarus.
“She didn’t think of you at all while I made her moan for me.” Zhan grinned devilishly. Let the fucker draw his own conclusions.
Bish tensed as soon as the last word left Zhan’s mouth. He faced the crowd, and Zhan could only imagine what was going through his mind. If he was attracted to Dahlia, even a modicum of how much Zhan was, a raging inferno of jealousy had to be burning him alive.
Bish slowly fisted his hands at his side, as if he was purposely slowing his reaction for fear of losing control. Zhan could sympathize with that. But Bish had some of the answers he needed, and short of trapping Karmen, which wasn’t the best idea at the worst of times, he was the only logical and sane way to get them.
It took every ounce of Zhan’s willpower not to slam Bish against the wall like Tarus had, but he would only resort to force if he had to. He’d much rather get what he wanted with his charm. Or, as it turned out, taunts.
Maybe the latter was beneath him, but he didn’t fucking care.
Crowding Bish’s back, he whispered in his ear. “Do you think about her as you stroke your cock? Is hers the voice you hear in your head as you find your pleasure? Or does it bother you to know it’s not a fantasy for me?” It was harsh and cold, but necessary.
Only, Bish didn’t break. He didn’t scream out his truths or try to toss out important crumbs of information to put Zhan in his place. He had almost expected Bish to claim he did know what she sounded like, felt like, when he was inside her. The image of what he expected Bish to say seared the back of his eyelids and soured in the pit of his stomach.
As the crowd ebbed and flowed around them like a rushing river over two strong, river rocks, Zhan waited for a reaction.
Bish gave him one, only not the one he expected.
He slowly exhaled a breath, rolling his neck on his shoulders to release the tension. Then he twisted his head to stare into Zhan’s eyes.
The rich, russet brown around his pupils grew as if they were lit within. As much as Zhan wanted to hold his stare, a niggling at the back of his mind urged him to look toward the door. He gave into the feeling and glanced away.
The one person he never thought he’d see again had just stepped inside the front door to Sinner’s.
“Fuck you, Zhan. Start a fight with someone who cares.” Bish’s voice penetrated the shock coursing through Zhan’s system.
He hadn’t wanted to do it this way, hadn’t thought there was a need, but he couldn’t stay there.
“Too bad for you, Bishy-Boy. We’re going to have to finish this conversation elsewhere.”
Zhan gripped Bish’s shoulder and vibrant indigo exploded around them as he took Bish to a place no one would interfere. He just had to figure out a way to keep him there.
Anything was better than chancing a run in with his brother, Seth.
7
They said ‘kill with kindness.’ Let’s just say when I was feeling murderous, Kindness was not the bitch I wanted at my side. - Dahlia
Dahlia
Lying on my back on the sofa, I stared at the ceiling as I sang, “All by myself…” at the top of my lungs.
Three days.
Three days and three nights, I’d been stuck in this apartment. Not just left here with no money or something. I meant actually stuck. The exterior doors didn’t open. I couldn’t even go out on the balcony overlooking the city. A city that did not look like Dallas. At all. I’d spent two hours my first night trying to identify the skyline.
I would have Googled it, but guess what else Seth didn’t have?
If you said computer, then ding ding ding, you would be right. Give yourself a cookie. In fact, the gorgeously appointed and comfortable apartment lacked in a lot of ways. No computer, at least not one I could find. A television on the wall, but no remote and no buttons on it.
At one point, I talked to the television. Maybe it was voice automated? No answers to any of the common names for devices or anything else.
He had books.
He had an entire library of books.
It was huge, and every shelf was stuffed full. You’d expect it to be kind of anal in its organization. Or I would. Everything in its place, but no. The books were sometimes stacked two deep with more lying along the top. Every square inch of space covered in every kind of text imaginable. Like, he had scrolls. Genuine scrolls.
None of them—books, scrolls, stacks of paper—none of them were written in a language I understood.
Kill. Me.
Oh wait, someone already did.
So, I filled my days with long hot bubble baths. You could only take so many with nothing to do and no one to talk to. Naps, too. I was very well-rested.
Since I was facing the longest ever dirt nap in roughly twenty-six or so days, I had a lot of better things I could be doing.
Zhan, for example. Or Tarus—seriously, I’d do him.
I’d settle for Seth, after I punished him for the kiss and dump.
The fact that they were brothers had never been more clear, even if they looked nothing alike. They’d all kissed me. Zhan’s kiss—wowza. Seth’s kiss? Definitely the tongue wrestling champion. Tarus? That so soft kiss he’d left me with might have been a butterfly compared to the gale force of his siblings, but you know what they say about the butterfly effect?
Just thinking about them had me all hot an
d bothered.
My five-fingered friend and I had been busy, but it was also not enough. Yes, shockingly, you can actually get bored of doing that after three days of no other stimulation. I was less horny for them and more just flat ticked off. Because every single one of them had kissed me and left.
Boom.
Gone.
What happened to me punishing them? Why was I being punished, again?
So here I was, lying on the sofa and staring out at that foreign skyline—singing. I’d been singing at the top of my lungs for the last hour. If Seth had some celestial neighbors here in Angel Hell Hall, maybe they’d complain to the management about the racket.
I segued from “All By Myself” to “Say Something.” Course, that song was depressing, but I sang it anyway. I didn’t have a lot of songs memorized, but I made up my own lyrics when I needed it. I even sang the Scooby Doo theme song, the butchered by Dahlia version, but I liked it.
Rolling off the sofa, I wandered into the kitchen for juice. The one place in the whole apartment besides my cloud bed that I liked. FYI, I went in search of Seth’s bed. There were no other beds in this apartment. Apparently, I had his bed.
So I bounced on it and savored lying in it. If I was gonna be stuck here, he wouldn’t get his bed back. But I digress… I liked the kitchen because it was always stocked. Plentiful sandwich fixings, the perfect fluffy bread, and the fruit…the fruit was delicious. There was an entire bowl of apples on the counter that first day.
I ate every single one in two days. Yes, I was in a mood. They probably didn’t have the same weight as when Eve took her bites, but I kind of hoped that eating them would get me evicted.
The only thing he didn’t have in his kitchen was a decent drink. I could use a bottle or ten of wine.
Afternoon Delight.
Ha.
I was almost nostalgic for Sinner’s.
When Train’s “Calling All Angels” drifted through my thoughts, I started vocalizing the lyrics while I built another sandwich of ham, turkey, roast beef, swiss and cheddar—because why not—and some spicy mustard. A beer would go really well with this, but I stuck with water because my options were limited.