Seducing Chaos

by Luna Quinn

  She lunged at Castor before Razor could have even predicted she’d attack the dumbfuck. Damn, she was fast.

  Aaand cue boner.

  Her right hook caught Castor against the temple, making him stagger back. He didn’t fall, but he did blink a few times, probably to clear the twinkling stars from his vision. Razor held Sasha back when she tried to go at the guy again. Fast and strong. His chest filled with pride.

  She’d make a wonderful mate…

  Somewhere inside his head, a record player came to a screeching halt.

  Mate? What the fuck. No. Just…no.

  Leaning down, Razor spoke close to her ear. “Easy, Sasha. We have enough problems. We don’t need to add an uprising to the pot of shit we already have on our hands. Which is exactly what Castor wants. Get yourself under control or leave.”

  Castor was back to his normal asshole self, staring at her like he’d already returned her punch.

  Nodding, Sasha pushed Razor’s hands away and then adjusted her shirt.

  “Truth hurts, doesn’t it, Sasha-babe?” Castor goaded.

  “Not really. Anyway, nice chat. Let’s do it again never. We got what we came for. Now go do your job.” Sasha dismissed Castor by turning on her heel. Razor bared his fangs at Castor, keeping him in his peripheral vision as he followed Sasha out of the building.

  The ride back was a different quiet this time. It wasn’t sexually charged, but there was a weird tension riding between them. He was tempted to ask if Castor had been right, if there was something she wanted from him. Because he’d tell her that she didn’t need to fuck him for it. He’d probably give her whatever she wanted, no sex required. But he didn’t ask. Castor was a jackass and he’d probably said that just to be a dick.

  It didn’t change the fact that seeing Sasha with an ex-lover had been a strange experience.

  As the miles passed, the silence stretched, and he welcomed it.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The following morning, Razor was busy making calls to all his street informants—asking questions, putting out the word about the magic-laced drugs and Maverick’s supposed involvement. Not that he didn’t believe Hailie, and, sure, going off of her word alone would be easy. She seemed like an honest enough kid. But he needed tangible proof. Once he got it, Razor could go after Maverick, and hopefully more leads would sprout from there. Because right now, they really had jack-shit. A kid’s word, a lot of dead bodies, a strange fucking Vampire, and magic-laced drugs. They all led nowhere.

  The ringtone to his judge line went off. Fishing out his phone, Razor frowned at the unknown caller ID. Only his street contacts had this number.

  He rubbed the bridge of his nose and didn’t want to answer, instinct telling him that it was nothing good.

  He pressed the answer button. “Razor.”

  “Hey, Judge, my name is Abel,” the caller started, his voice shaky. “Something happened to my sister. Fuck. Judge…Razor…it’s bad.”

  Ten minutes after the call, he walked into the building where Anna George had lived with her boyfriend. According to Abel, his sister had moved in with the boyfriend, a male Vampire, only months before.

  When he stepped into the apartment, the scent of blood and death hit Razor like a punch to the face.

  Once fully inside the apartment, he zeroed in on the carpet, on the biggest of the blood stains. It was more of a puddle than a stain. A long line of smeared blood ran from the puddle off to the left—like someone had been dragged. The blood trail led straight to the bedroom.

  He’d left a distraught big brother outside the building, but the guy had managed to tell Razor how he’d come looking for his sister after a distressed Anna had called. She had been fighting with her boyfriend. Apparently, Anna had accused the boyfriend of acting strange and spending more and more time out than at home and using drugs.

  After the fight, the boyfriend had apparently left the apartment. That’s when Anna had called her brother. Then Abel had shown up, only to find his sister, her boyfriend, and a male neighbor all dead.

  Razor stopped short inside the bedroom. “Fuck.”

  This hadn’t been a murder, it had been a fucking massacre.

  The first body, the female, was sprawled on the bed, her neck at an awkward angle, her limbs gone. Scanning the room, he didn’t see them, at least not intact. But he did see a lot of chunks of meat. The second body, a male, was on the floor by one of Anna’s legs. He was also missing some parts, though his seemed to be mostly internal. His chest cavity had been split open, everything hanging out.

  There was blood and gore everywhere. The soft yellow walls were splattered with the red liquid, the scent of copper thick in the air. A door off to the right was wide open, and he could see more blood reflected in the mirror facing the door. He moved stealthily, not wanting to risk contaminating anything. In the bathroom, he found the third body. It was the Vamp, his head almost completely hacked off. He held a butcher knife in one hand.

  What in the living fuck…?

  Had the dude attempted to chop off his own head? There was a chunk of meat still attached, like he had kept hacking until he died from the injury. Razor had seen a lot of death, but this was a first for him. The image would haunt him.

  At first glance, the scene appeared to be a straightforward double murder-suicide. But he wouldn’t call it just yet. With all the bizarre shit going on in Shadow Realm, nothing could be taken as straightforward. Plus, the way Anna had described the boyfriend’s odd behavior made Razor’s instincts perk up. It was looking as if it all led back to the drugs. What was in that fucking heroin?

  “Holy dismemberment.” A voice he was disappointed, but not surprised, to hear drifted in from the bedroom. He hadn’t been sure if the souls had already been collected or not, what with the deaths being so fresh, but he had been kinda hoping for a certain surly, turquoise-eyed one.

  Razor straightened from his crouch and strolled back to the bedroom.

  Archer wore his hair spiked and had apparently gotten rid of the boring black from last time. Green was the hair color of the week, which went well with the yellowing bruise around the guy’s jaw. He didn’t ask about the injury. The Reaper was taking in the scene, leaning over the man’s body on the floor.

  “One for the record books,” he said when he looked at Razor. “I hate these types of collections. Gore is a bitch to clean from under my boots.”

  Razor made a disgusted noise. “You’re an asshole.”

  The green-haired Reaper shrugged. Razor suspected that Archer might be completely jaded, but there was no way the Reapers didn’t feel deaths on some level. Shit, they connected with the souls while they made the journey to the gates; there was just no way something didn’t transfer in the meantime—pain, sorrow, anger, something.

  “You think it’s the same type of Vamp-Shifter?” Archer asked, his brown eyes meeting his.

  “We can’t be sure yet.”

  Awareness hit him an instant before Sasha appeared in the room. He held back a groan as her scent hit him. He’d been avoiding any thoughts of her. He really had. With the clock on the case seeming to be ticking faster now, Razor couldn’t afford to get sidetracked. If she wanted to ignore this growing thing between them, then so could he.

  He told himself he wasn’t going to look at her as he turned in her direction, that he was going to simply walk past her, collect the evidence, and leave.

  He clearly had no willpower.

  Not surprisingly, the impact of her hit him right in the chest, and then his balls for good measure. She stood next to the bed, looking down at what was left of Anna’s body, her fingers flying over a small handheld tablet. The stubborn woman didn’t even acknowledge him. Oh, he was fucking sure she knew he was there. He could almost sense her awareness of him.

  “…too much of a coincidence, don’t you think?” Archer’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Shit, how long had the Reaper been talking to him? “Crap like this happens often here, but bloody murders s
o soon after the Vamp-Shifter, the missing girls, and now the magic-laced drugs? Has to be related.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking,” Razor replied.

  “The word has gotten around, Raz. Xavier knows it’s no longer just the missing souls. He’s ordered everyone to stay on alert. Anything suspicious is to be reported to him.”

  His focus was still on Sasha, even as he looked to Archer. “Thank you.”

  The other man gave him a suspicious look, like he knew Razor’s thoughts weren’t entirely on him or the dead bodies. He didn’t call him on it, though. Stepping around, Archer proceeded to collect the soul of one of the men.

  In the silence, Razor couldn’t pretend to ignore Sasha any longer. He glanced in her direction, watching her for a few seconds as she typed some more.

  “Oh, hey, Sasha,” he blurted out lamely, and almost facepalmed. Idiot.

  Sasha glanced up, dismissing him with a quick hm sound, and returned her attention to her task before adding distractedly, “I thought I smelled wet dog.”

  Razor’s hackles rose quickly, something inside him bristling at the sheer disrespectfulness of her words and tone. Had they not just had this conversation? Maybe he hadn’t been clear enough.

  In a few long strides, he was in front of her. Her eyes were wide as her body moved backwards with him until he had her backed up against the wall. He wasn’t touching her, not yet, but she had nowhere to go with his arms caging her. Razor was aware that they weren’t alone in the room, but he couldn’t give less of a fuck about Archer at the moment.

  He bared his fangs. “What is your fucking problem, Sasha? Did I use the wrong tone today? Or should I just stop addressing you all together?”

  Her eyes flashed daggers. “I don’t have a problem.”

  “Yes, you do. And you only seem to have it around me. Because you sure as fuck didn’t seem to be bothered in the least yesterday with Castor. In fact, you looked pretty fucking happy to be paying him a friendly fucking visit.”

  He knew that last part wasn’t true, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself from saying it.

  Sasha rolled her eyes in exasperation. “You can’t be serious.” She paused and studied him for a moment. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

  He stepped closer, his hands going to her sides and wrapping around her hips.

  A small gasp escaped her lips and her gaze lost a little bit of its antagonistic edge. It gave him a sick sort of satisfaction knowing that while she might hate his guts, his touch affected her.

  “Are you really that fucking blind?” he hissed. She was so warm and smelled so good that he wanted nothing more than to kiss her until she melted for him the way she had back in the parking garage.

  “I think I made my feelings pretty clear the last time. Nothing personal, Razor. As for Castor, what I feel or don’t feel is none of your business.”

  “I’m making it my business.” His hold on her hips tightened—probably painfully, but she wasn’t complaining. He squeezed until he heard a small whimper come from her throat. Her gaze traveled down to his lips and her breathing sped up. He added, “And since I only need to blink in your direction and your claws come out, it sure as fuck feels personal.”

  She only shook her head.

  “Why does your temper explode whenever I’m around?” he asked quietly, his mouth now close to her lips. “You don’t have any anger issues around my brothers or your Reaper buddies, and you were pretty mellow with Castor and he’s a total douche. What is it about me that pisses you off so much, Sasha?”

  She suddenly straightened, her lips thinning as her voice took on an edge Razor had heard before but could never quite read. “Gods, you’re so cocky. Not everything is about you. Now back the fuck off.”

  “No,” he said, but he did loosen his hold, rocking back on his heels to give her a little breathing room because he didn’t want a punch to the jaw right then. What he wanted was more than these non-answers. “Not until you answer me.”

  She puffed out an exasperated breath. “Even if I spilled all my deepest, darkest secrets to you, it wouldn’t make a smidge of difference. Not for us.”

  “Why? Is the idea of more than just sex with me so unpalatable?”

  Her eyes instantly softened. “No, Razor…it’s not like that…it’s not—”

  He was about to tell her not to dare pull the it’s not you, it’s me card, but then an impossible thought snaked through his mind. He took in Sasha’s features, trying to make sense of the things she was letting him see. Could it be that she was developing feelings for him, and that’s why she was pushing him away with such determination?

  The more he went over all of it, the way she always seemed to push him away at just the right moment…

  The smile that spread across his face had to be the smuggest smile in history.

  Seeming to follow his train of thought, her eyes widened in…panic? She wasn’t even shielding her feelings anymore. She probably didn’t even know she was open to him.

  “Get off me, Razor. Now.”

  “Oh no, pretty girl. I’m not going anywhere.” He inhaled deeply, taking up the spot where he’d been seconds ago—pressed up tightly against her.

  Her body trembled, and she sighed quietly. “Move, Razor,” she said, but her hips rolled gently in his hold.

  “I don’t think you want me to.” He speared her with his gaze. “You have a safe word. Red, isn’t that what you said? Red means stop. Use the word, and I’ll back off. For good. I won’t ever bring ‘us’ up again.”

  “I’ll knee you in the balls, I swear I will,” she said, with little heat. She wasn’t using the word, or poofing out of the room like she could so easily do.

  They stared at each other, a silent battle of wills. Goddess, he loved doing this with her. It made him instantly hard. Completely inappropriate timing, but only she could do this to him.

  All thoughts fled when Sasha ground her hips against his erection. He inhaled sharply.

  “Green,” she murmured. With one word and one movement, she gave him her answer.

  His hand was moving before he knew it. It slid down her hip to her thigh, and then he was cupping her pussy.

  They both exhaled hotly. Sasha’s head fell back against the wall, and Razor’s dropped down until he was pressing his nose to her throat. Even through her jeans, she felt hot to the touch.

  “Goddess, I want to fuck you right now.” His hand began a slow massage between her legs.

  “We’re in a crime scene, Razor. You’re being inappropriate,” she accused, even as her hips writhed under his hand.

  “Am I?” Razor gave her throat a tiny kiss, almost nothing.

  Her body shivered. “Maybe, yeah.”

  “So stop me.”

  She snorted, then gasped as he pressed the heel of his palm right against her clit. “No, I don’t think I will.”

  “I really should fuck you good and hard against this wall for being entirely too much trouble.”

  “It’s not my fault you think there’s something more between us than awesome sex. But if you fuck me here, I won’t complain.”

  Razor’s annoyance flared, though it did nothing to his boner.

  But he’d already seen the truth in her eyes. Her words stung, yes, but he wouldn’t back off. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”

  “I think you’re reading too much into things.”

  “And I think you need to be spanked. Again.”

  She made a small, needy noise in her throat. He smirked.

  Shifting his hand, he moved it up from between her legs to the first button of her jeans. He wanted to make her feel good, so she could remember how perfectly they had fit together. How much pleasure they had shared.

  As soon as his fingers touched the top button, someone cleared their throat behind them.

  “Yeah, gonna have to cut in here, you crazy kids,” a male’s laughing voice said. “And I’m going to vote that, yes, fucking in a crime scene is highly inapprop
riate. And that’s saying something coming from me.”

  Swinging his head around, Razor bared his fangs and snarled a warning at the male standing entirely too close.

  “Whoa there, big guy, put those things away.” The man lifted his hands in a non-threatening gesture.

  Razor caged Sasha in tighter, his body taking an arched position over her. He watched the man as he slowly inched closer to Sasha. He didn’t like it. He gave another warning snarl.

  The guy cursed under his breath. “I swear, Razor, I mean her no harm. You can keep her, okay? I like her, but I like myself more. I really don’t want to die. So put those fucking daggers you call teeth away, buddy.”

  He registered Sasha pushing hard against his body, and that’s when everything seemed to clear. He blinked, glancing at Sasha, and then back at the man who was obviously Archer.

  “Razor, what the hell was that?” She pushed at him again. He snapped out of whatever that had been, and took three long strides backwards. Away from Sasha.

  Well, fuck. That wasn’t the first time Razor had gone all territorial beast. First with Locke, and now Archer.

  When he finally met Archer’s stare, the Reaper was grinning at him. What was he so happy about? The dumbass had almost died.

  “Hey, buddy, welcome back,” Archer said, way too upbeat for how close the green-haired Reaper had come to death by territorial Hellhound.

  “Fuck off,” Razor told Archer, and turned his gaze on Sasha. “You and I aren’t done.”

  Stomping back to the bedroom, Razor took a moment to get himself under control. Then he busied himself collecting samples for the evidence kit. When he glanced back, he spied Archer talking with Sasha in hushed tones, though Razor could hear them just fine.