by R. Scarlett
His brother may be the Dux of Scorpios, but Beau was the king of us low lives.
“I can take care of myself,” I told him and tried to break free, but that only angered him, and he tightened his hold on my shoulder, pushing me farther into the wall, his body moving closer.
He laughed, the sound somber and disbelieving. “Can you really? We both know you haven’t been feeding,” he said. His voice held a note of mockery, but his eyes told a different story altogether. There was something akin to worry in them.
I swallowed thickly and blinked, my courage faltering. I wanted to bite back but… Beau was telling the truth. I hadn’t fed on a soul in far too long.
“You’re going to have to feed at some point, Alexandra.” With a tilt of his head, he asked, “How long?”
How long since I’d last fed. “Months,” I whispered.
“How long,” he repeated, tone harsher at my vague answer.
I swallowed, looking away quickly before replying. “Since before the hunters captured me.” I sighed. “Three months.”
A low growl escaped past his lips at my words, filling the space between us with crackling intensity.
It was everywhere around us, my mouth filled with a taste so euphoric my body begged me to let myself drown in it.
In his taste, in his rage, and power.
“You’re going to feed now, Alexandra.” His tone was deadly and commanding, sending a thrill of all-consuming pleasure down my lower stomach. “But you’re not going to feed on any of those assholes out there.” He shifted closer, towering over me. He was all sweat and blood and pure incubi male. “If you want to taste danger, Alexandra, if you have needs to quench,” he whispered, his head dipping so his breath hit my shaking lips. “You’re going to take what you need from my dark soul. No one else’s.”
I wanted him to touch me again. I wanted him to lose control. To remove the chains that bind him.
To let him taste me. My mouth. My soul.
Me.
The walls pounded from the voices and the fights and shook me to my core. I tilted my head and he placed his hands on either side of my face on the wall behind me. My mouth opened, so close to touching his and he breathed out—the belladonna and sin and anger warm on my tongue.
His inked fingers gripped my hair tightly in a makeshift ponytail and bent my neck farther back, almost as if he was offering me to himself. “Taste me,” he hissed out. An order. A command.
And before he could change his mind, I obeyed him for once in my life.
My mouth met his in a feverish ache, his lips full and soft and hard all at once. The smoke and whisky tasted hot on his tongue, on his gums and I swept deeper—deeper into the oblivion of Beau Knight.
He was the storm—the storm I walked into while everyone ran the opposite direction.
I welcomed him.
I thrived inside of him.
I let him conquer me.
Dig his claws and teeth in deep.
And then I let my hunger take over, let my soul take what it needed. What it craved.
Him. His essence. His soul filling my mouth like an old wine as a moan escaped my lips, quickly disappearing between his own.
I tasted his darkness—his coolness and burning, raging fire.
I tasted too much, too fast, and with that terrifying, powerful high of Beau Knight, I collapsed into the warm darkness of his palms, body humming.
“Fuck,” Beau breathed into my mouth, his hands going to cradle my head as he drew us further into the darkness. I caught his mouth again. My fingers clawed at his back, digging deep so that he met my aggression with a bit of his own.
My body shook—shook from the pure power I fed on from Beau. From his dark, unredeemable soul of sin and violence.
Soak in me, his soul sung to me. Drink me. Eat me. Consume me.
His hands were rough—callused and worn and worked so hard they felt like weapons on my body. Sliding, finding weak points in my frame, pinching ever so slightly.
Both of his large hands ran across my hips, leaving a hot trail in their wake.
I moaned once more—freely, openly and tore at his t-shirt soaked in sweat, feeling the hard ridges of his stomach.
His fingers captured my jaw again and he straightened, those dark, vivid eyes taking me in.
His breath came out in harsh and fast puffs of acid and sin, his inked fingers anchoring me as he came down from the high of letting a souleater taste him.
He licked his wet bottom lip and let his hand drop beside him. Each finger tattooed with a faint letter—spelling out hell and bent on each of his knuckles. How simple, rough hands inked in sin and blood aroused me—I didn’t understand it.
I let my tongue brush my mouth, soaking in every last taste of his soul.
In a span of a second, I tasted more of a person than I ever wanted.
It felt as if he was in me.
I glanced up at him through my lashes, unable to speak, unable to move away from the heat of his large body. I wanted to taste more of him. I wanted him to use me. To fuck me and destroy me. It was wrong, but it felt right. My body passed the point of caring, just as long as it experienced that high again.
A bang shook the walls and Beau pressed me farther into the wall, glancing over his shoulder.
At first, all I could hear were panicked screams but when I looked over his shoulder, a cloud of smoke filled the second floor.
“Stay here. Don’t fucking move,” Beau demanded, pressing my shoulder into the corner and throwing me a warning glare. Beau’s hands tightened into iron fists, the tension filling his body once again.
“What’s going on?” I asked, stepping out of the shadows.
Beau didn’t stop, he didn’t acknowledge me, but moved back into the chaos of the Pit, leaving me behind.
I didn’t listen to him and ventured into the chaos anyway. The chaos swarming around my head and heart. I couldn’t see anything, but I could hear screams, so vicious and violent. I pushed past the crowd, going the opposite way and froze at the sight of men in black swarming the Pit. A few bodies lay on the ground, unmoving. My breath caught in my throat, heart pumping wildly.
This—this was an attack.
A cry caught my attention and I turned, seeing one of the Aphrodites trapped beneath a massive man, gripping her throat as he tried to drag her toward the entrance of the building.
I gritted my teeth and rushed forward, grabbing a metal tray and bashing it over his head.
When he only groaned, I did it again and kicked him in the gut, watching as he rolled off of her, face twisted in pain.
The girl panted in effort, staring up at me with bloodshot, lifeless eyes. Her makeup was smudged all over her face, with long teary streaks running through. “Thank—”
I forced a smile, but it broke into a gasp when something hit my head, knocking me to my knees. Pain flared at the back of my skull and black dots filtered my vision. I tried to stand, collapsing back into my hands and knees. Glass cut into them and I clenched my fingers out of reflex, collecting the shards in my palms.
“Little fucker,” a raspy voice said behind me. “You’re coming with me.”
Someone gripped my shirt and lifted me up and I gazed back to see an older man, dressed in black with a sick smirk on his face.
I raised a trembling, bloodied hand and slashed the glass stuck in my palm across his face, escaping his grip as he hissed in pain. Little red dots of blood appeared on his skin, quickly turning darker and darker as it seeped out from the wounds.
“Fucking bitch!” he roared, and I made a quick move for the crowd in an attempt to slow him down and escape. I pushed through, barely missing a flying knife from embedding itself into my side. When I looked behind me, it was only to find the man shoving after me, his eyes dark and deadly.
I threw myself into the hallway, desperately clawing at each door handle but they were all locked.
“Huh,” that sick raspy voice said, filling the space around us.
/> I glanced back, seeing the man marching casually down the hall. There was a deep sneer on his features, blood dripping down his cheek and darkening his black shirt further. He flexed his hands, knuckles cracking in anticipation.
I had nowhere to go from here, I was trapped. And he knew it.
Fuck!
“Cozy little private spot you found us there, love.” Gesturing to his bloodied face, he added, “How about you fucking pay for what you did.” A smile formed on his lips, a nasty smile that promised violence and retribution.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
I gagged when one of his hands went to his belt, undoing it with purpose. I scanned the space around us frantically, finding nothing new. “A little piece of cunt like yourself… I can’t let you run away unharmed. Untouched.” He continued approaching slowly, unhurriedly. His gaze roamed the walls around us, his sneer dripping with cruelty.
“Get away from me,” I snapped but my body was visibly shaking despite my best effort not to show any weakness.
“You fucking Scorpios. All so fucking weak, so fucking useless,” he hissed, shaking his head in disgust. “You’re trapped, it’s over for you.”
I froze at his words about Scorpios. He wasn’t from here then. He wasn’t a part of Scorpios. He was older, I noted. With greying hair, in a nice black suit, a white, too perfect, too vile smile that made me want to smash his teeth in.
“Bend over, kitten,” he repeated, gesturing to my legs as he kept unzipping his pants. “Put your claws to good use and grip onto the wall like your slutty mom taught you because it’s gonna be a bloody, bruising fuck.”
“Fuck you!” I shot back and regretted it as the back of his hand hit my cheek. My head snapped to the side painfully, my neck cracked, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out. The whole side of my face was throbbing. Too distracted by the pain to offer much of a fight, he gripped my shoulders easily and forced me to my knees.
But the cold, hard floor on my skin ripped me out of my pain filled daze.
I thrashed against his hold, but he used both of his hands to trap me against the wall, his front touching my back as bile filled my mouth, burning my throat.
No.
No.
No!
I needed to get out of here. I need to—
I paused, waiting for him to think I was done fighting. He gripped the edge of my shirt, the fabric tearing when I pushed back, using my body weight to knock him off his feet and onto the ground.
I scrambled, his hand catching my ankle and he dragged me back.
I clawed, scratching his face and neck, but he held me down with his weight. All the memories of the hunters beating me, hitting me and holding me down flooded my mind. I choked, I thrashed, in vain, in panic, in terror.
“Please, please, stop, don’t!” I cried out.
His hand clasped my throat and tightened, my lungs burning as the air fought to get in.
I won’t let him hurt me.
I can’t let him win.
Don’t give up.
Don’t be weak.
BEAU
Chaos filled the Pit—screams of panic and fear shaking my body with each step forward.
Men in black coats swarmed the second floor with daggers. People shoved to the entrances, crowding, pushing violently to escape.
I fisted my hands as one of the men in black surged forward, a shout leaving his mouth. His fist flew in my direction and I dodged, only to get sliced with a dagger I hadn’t noticed in his other hand. It cut through my t-shirt and sliced my skin. Fire seemed to erupt from the wound as blood soaked through my shirt, I hissed.
Fuckers.
I reached out and gripped his arm, breaking his wrist. The fucker cried out, shaking in my hold.
I saw a few other fighters joining in, fighting back against the intruders, but there were already many victims laying on the floor. Dead, or gravely injured.
A hand wrapped around my throat from behind and I thrashed, flipping the guy over my back and onto the floor. I glared at the man dressed the same as the other fuckers and bent down, gripping his collar—then snapped his neck.
And at the sound of bone cracking, I lost it—the beast taking over and viciously attacking anyone that was a threat. These bastards didn’t stand a chance against me, not against a beast who craved power and violence and rage.
Each time I took a man down, another seemed to pop up. I noticed as I got closer to the ring, a small bomb had gone off down below, but it wasn’t powerful enough to do any big damage to the structure.
It had been used as a diversion.
In the darkness, I thrived, I raged, and conquered any person in my way. Their cries, their screams became the ringing in my ears. The energy that filled my blood.
I spotted Tegan, punching a man repeatedly over and over, her face red with fury.
When my eyes caught the corner of the Pit where I’d left Lex, a vicious growl tore from my lips. She wasn’t there anymore.
My chest tightened, body shaking as I searched for her, but it was too dark and chaotic to tell where she’d gone.
I moved fast, pushing past panicked people and trying my best not to curse them out.
At the sound of a cry, I spun, catching sight of someone on top of another in the back hallway.
I didn’t think, I just moved, my body responding to the sound like it was its lifeline. I marched forward, the blood rushing to my head, my fists tightening at the sight of Lex withering in panic underneath a man.
I reached out and gripped the man by the back of his shirt, jerking him off of her.
His face, full of blood, transformed into a scowl. The man didn’t waste a moment and dug his fingers into my chest, where the cut still burned and oozed. I threw him back, shoving him into the wall.
A hiss left his mouth and he threw his head forward, crushing into my forehead. Ringing filled my ears, but I didn’t let go.
A knife slashed my stomach and I growled, jumping back as he swung again.
I eyed the white-haired man, blood running from his nose, over his shaking mouth.
His foot edged forward, directed at Lex and I lunged, only for him to back away.
And then laughter left his mouth and he grinned.
He straightened his tie and without a word, he rushed down the hallway.
Lex gasped on the floor, trying to sit up. I bent down, gripping her shoulders.
“I’m fine,” she said, voice croaky, still trying to catch her breath. “I’m fine.” My hand touched her jaw and tilted her head to the side to see if there were any damages, anything I could possibly heal with a quick touch. “I’m fine,” she kept repeating again and again.
I knew those were words she said a lot, even when she wasn’t, in fact, fine. Her pained expression gave her away. Her hand massaged her throat as if trying to soothe it, and she blinked up at me.
I clenched my jaw at that look. Like she wanted me to save her. Like I could. It sent shivers down my spine, my hands curling inward, attempting not to reach out and hold her.
Save her soul and mind and body. At those thoughts, my body bent closer, the urge to shield her with my structure outweighing my fear of getting too close.
My fingers, out of my control, slid across her shaded jaw of bruises and imagining each touch a kiss to heal them.
“Savage.” Steel’s voice drew me away and I stood, turning to face him at the end of the hallway. “They’re gone… and they took out a lot of us.”
“Fuckers,” I said, shaking my head at their cowardice.
“But Tegan managed to catch one. He’s tied up. What should we do with him?” He cocked a brow.
Where the fuck had Danny been through all of this? I hadn’t seen him in all the chaos.
I sighed, looking down at my bloody, bruised knuckles. “I’ll deal with him first. The bastard will give me the answers we need.”
I looked down the hallway, knowing I should move, knowing my feet should walk away from the souleater
behind me.
But I looked back, my eyes dropping to the tiny form huddled on the floor. Bruised and hair a chaotic beautiful mess. Her blue eyes held mine, the intensity of the gaze like a shot to my chest, leaving me breathless.
“Wait for me,” I managed to say with a tight throat of unsaid emotions. “I’ll walk you home.”
There was no way she was leaving the Pit without me. Not when we had just been attacked.
Lex visibly swallowed, her lips parting as if to speak and I knew she would protest.
I forced myself to look away.
I went to move, but Lex coughed, standing up, waving her hand. “Wait—that guy—that guy was talking about Scorpios as if he wasn’t from around here. Like he wasn’t from New York.”
I stared down at her rosy cheeks and the bruise forming on her right cheekbone. A bruise I wanted to tend to, but I curled my fingers deeper into my palms.
Not now. Later.
I didn’t say a word and turned down the hallway, marching until I reached the meeting room. The Pit was a mess, fighters tending to the victims or moving the dead into body bags. Shards of glass spread across the floor and blood dotted the black and white tiles. I picked up one of the bigger shards before entering, playing with it, not caring if it cut me.
A man, bent over and tied to the chair, sat in front of me. Tegan and another fighter stood to the side, glaring at him. Bruised and beaten, but this was nothing new to us.
“You attacked the Pit,” I said to him, moving closer, wedging the shard between my pointer finger and index. “A place full of trained fighters.”
The man kept his dark head bowed, his chest heaving fast and hard.
I sat down in the chair opposite to him, letting my hands hang between my thighs. “Who are you?”
I watched as the guy’s jaw ticked, his mouth shaking into a thin line.
I didn’t give him a warning. I jerked forward, stabbing the shard into his thigh, deep into an artery, twisting it deeper as he cried out, his head swinging back.
“Blood and pain is my nature. You can either speak and tell me what I want to know, or I can carve up the names of all the people that died today right onto your skin. I’m warning you, I’ve never been much of an artist, so expect some sloppy fucking artwork,” I hissed out.