Seducing Chaos

by Luna Quinn

  The asshole smiled coldly, but neither confirmed nor denied it. “It doesn’t matter why we disagreed. Only that I’m concerned about my sons.”

  Razor snorted. “Yeah, okay.”

  “How are your brothers? Khyran á Tarok still doing what he does best?”

  Razor snarled. “His name is Edge. Goddess, could you just get on with it already? The concerned father act doesn’t suit you.”

  “No one was ever as good a killer as Khyran.” His voice sounded wistful, as if remembering the time fondly.

  Razor wanted to vomit.

  Standing, he looked his father in the eye. “Listen, I hate to be a bad host and all, but I need you to get the fuck out. I don’t really know why you came. I asked, you evaded, and now I just don’t give a shit.”

  Razor’s body tensed as his father eyed him back, but with disgust. “There was a time when you would never speak to me with such disrespect. You feared and obeyed me.”

  “You mean when I was a pup and you’d break my teeth for even breathing wrong? Yeah, can’t think of a reason why,” he replied, sarcasm dripping from every word.

  “The seer in my court had visions,” Erummon continued as if Razor hadn’t spoken. “And now with the discord with my advisor, I decided a talk with you was needed.”

  His mind flying a hundred miles per hour, Razor forced his face to remain blank. Thank fuck for Erummon’s average sense of smell, otherwise there would be no way Razor could hide the violence inside. “A seer?”

  “Yes, and she sensed changes in my bloodline, C’rren. My sons are coming of age and I have concerns.”

  Coming of age? Um, okay. Razor and his brothers had reached maturity over two hundred years ago, so what the fuck was his father talking about?

  Razor lifted a dark eyebrow, ignoring the name Erummon insisted on using. “If you’re trying to give me ‘the talk,’ you’re a couple centuries too late. My virginity is a fucking fairy tale now. And trust me when I say my brothers’ are as well.”

  Erummon growled. “Show me some respect. I’m your father, and as such, you owe me your allegiance and your deference.”

  Grinding his teeth, Razor only barely managed not to sucker punch the bastard. But he did take a few steps closer, towering over the seated man, making sure his father didn’t miss the look in his eyes that said he was this close to throwing his ass out. “I owe you nothing. None of us do. We repaid you the years you so benevolently kept us in the Pit while we matured by getting out of your way.” Razor spat the words as the other man stood up. He wasn’t as tall as Razor, and there wasn’t any fear in Erummon’s eyes. His scent said a different thing, though.

  Under the cool, unworried face, the scent of alarm was light, but unmistakable. So Erummon, most feared Demon, was no longer sure he could take on his sons. Interesting. “And trust me, Father, this is me showing respect. If I wasn’t, you’d be on the other side of that door, dusting off your ass.”

  They glared at each other.

  A full minute passed before one side of Erummon’s mouth lifted, his chin rising slightly. “Ever my son. You are strong. No doubt of my loins.”

  Razor snarled. “I’ve had a long fucking day. I’m over this. I don’t want to deal with you anymore. Or ever.”

  His father lowered himself once again, unperturbed, his hand playing with the huge motherfucking ruby sitting on top of the cane. “I don’t like who you have chosen as a mate.”

  He blinked. Mate?

  “Excuse me, what?”

  “Your Reaper,” Erummon said, as if the word alone tasted foul in his mouth.

  He stilled, watching the man carefully as he let the words sink in. When Erummon had impregnated Razor’s human mother—after having his sperm magically infused (fucking weird) with Hellhound DNA—Razor and his brothers became the first part-Demon, part-human Hellhounds in existence. In other words, there was no Hellhound FAQ he and his brothers could refer to about their natures. He had thought none of the usual things other Shifters and Demons experienced would apply to them.

  He’d known there were species of Others that mated for life, and that it was an instinctual thing, something that happened on a deeper level than just physical. Like their souls connecting, or something like that.

  Was Erummon saying what Razor thought he was saying? Is that what the stuff with Sasha had been about? Was she his…mate?

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he blurted.

  Erummon gave him a look. “If you think to convince me otherwise, you won’t succeed. I’ve seen the signs, so don’t lie to me. You’ve already marked her. But sadly for you, it won’t go further if she doesn’t willingly accept the bond.”

  He’d already heard of the mate-bond and how it worked, knew that a mating wasn’t complete until the other mate accepted the claiming. Razor had no idea what that step consisted of, but he knew that Sasha could very well decide to turn him down, and he would be left with an incomplete bond, living the rest of his days feeling the deep ache of losing her.

  He’d only heard all that from secondhand account, so he wasn’t entirely sure. One thing he was sure of, though, was if he went to Sasha with this information at this point in their relationship, he was fucking sure she would laugh at him, right before sprinting to the nearest exit.

  “I need my bloodline to remain pure,” Erummon added when Razor said nothing. “I have called in several pure-blooded female Demonesses from our homeland. I will be sending them to see to the needs of my sons.”

  Over his dead body. Razor snorted and calmly walked to the door. He’d had enough shit for one day. His brain was having a hard time computing everything as it was, and he had yet to hear back from Sasha. He couldn’t deal with what had just gone down with Erummon. So for now, he would shove it all back and leave only the details that could be relevant to the case.

  At the door, he looked back at the Demon king. “We stopped being your sons when you broke Edge’s first bone. Get the fuck out. Now.”

  Erummon’s face registered surprise, but he didn’t fight Razor. He stood and walked equally as calmly to the door.

  Razor wasn’t stupid enough to think he had given up. There was probably a reason why his father had readily accepted the dismissal. And that should probably have worried him, because Erummon was nothing if not persistent, but right now, all he wanted was to have his space back so he could clean the stench of the Pit out of every surface of his home.

  “I have sources, C’rren. You, Khyran, Shilok’Elan, and RowynArion will not sully my bloodline with less than acceptable mates.”

  When his father crossed the threshold, Razor’s gaze met his, and he switched back to Empyrean. “Stop using those names. I’m Razor, and it’s Edge, Night, and Sin. We haven’t been your sons in over two hundred years. You no longer have a say in our lives, nor will you ever again. Who my brothers and I fuck, or decide to procreate with, if we ever do, is none of your godsdamned business.”

  With that, he slammed the door in Erummon’s face.

  Standing with his hands fisted at his sides, he stared at the door, almost willing Erummon to come back so this time he could physically kick the old fuck out.

  What the hell was going on? Were the planets out of whack, or what?

  He didn’t even want to tempt fate by asking if there was anything else that could go wrong, so he kept his mouth shut.

  When there was no sign of the old man coming back, he backed away from the door. He pulled out a Blood Root smoke and lit it up, taking a few pulls. As soon as he felt the calming effect, he fished his cell phone from the back pocket of his jeans and dialed Edge.

  It rang several times before the call connected. Or at least, he thought it had connected. There was what sounded like fumbling, and then his brother was cursing in the background in several languages.

  “Hello?” Razor said into the phone.

  After more cursing, Edge finally answered, “Yeah, I’m here. I dropped this piece of shit phone. Remind me to k
ill Sin for sending it to me.”

  Razor laughed. “What? You don’t like the new phones? They’re awesome. They can practically wipe your ass for you.”

  “After I hang up, I’m tossing it in the river.”

  Razor chuckled, but then sobered and filled in Edge about the visit from Erummon.

  “If he’s here, that means the guards at the portal are already dead,” Edge said, referring to the portal into the Underworld that, thanks to the 24/7 guards Edge kept, had remained closed.

  “Yes, and I’m meeting up with Sasha shortly.”

  “Fuck,” his brother said, the curse word very uncharacteristic of him. “I’m heading to the Veil now.”

  “Do you want me to send a few enforcers?”

  “No, I’ll handle it.” There were voices in the background, music, laughter. That made Razor frown. It wasn’t loud enough to be the Night House, so where was Edge?

  “We need to be careful,” his brother added once the noise quieted. “I’ll talk to Night and Sin tonight. Erummon knows he’s not welcome here.”

  “Okay, I’ll let you handle that for now.”

  “We’ll be in touch.” With that, Edge hung up, leaving Razor to pace and plan his next move.

  Minutes ticked by, and then he couldn’t be in his house any longer, not while it still stunk of Erummon. Going back to his screen, Razor sent Sasha a text.

  Change of plans. Meet at the Night House in 30.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  When Sasha had left Archer’s place, she figured she had plenty of time until meeting with Razor, so she’d popped back home to take a shower. Finally, she was able to wash away the lingering stench of the Pit from Valtu and the residual gunpowder from the explosions at Archer’s. She’d gotten dressed again in comfortable jeans and a loose shirt, but before she’d been able to do so much as sit down to relax, an orphan had knocked on her door, a boy of about seven years old. She’d never seen him before. He was starving, and had been reduced to begging for food.

  Like Castor and others, Sasha provided a sort of protection for all the kids who wandered the streets, were homeless, or just had no other options. Some kids had a family, but living in Sector Three, that didn’t always mean something. Unlike Castor, she didn’t just offer protection from gangs. Sasha kept tons of food and clothes in her apartment for anyone in need. Sure, her place was small and a mess, but she could shelter kids if they needed it.

  Some kids came for the company, and the older ones especially came for advice, or someone they could talk to without any judgment. Sasha was a neutral party, not a gang leader, or any other power role. They never had to be careful with their opinions around her. When they stopped by, she dropped everything for them, and they knew that.

  Her chance at being a mother had been taken from her once. She’d never allow someone to take away her chance to help these kids.

  The boy who’d landed on her doorstep had stayed for a while, but as soon as she received Razor’s text and told him she had to be somewhere, he’d politely thanked her and left without a fuss. She made sure kids were taken care of when they were under her roof, but that wasn’t enough. As her thoughts drifted to poor little Hailie, she clenched her fists in anger—and determination.

  Which brought her back to Razor’s text, and telling him what had happened at the old school. There were still about twenty minutes until Razor was expecting her, but she didn’t have the patience to wait. She disappeared and was in the Night House a moment later. The crowd was starting to pick up already, and she had to find some creative ways to move around couples who weren’t waiting until the late hours to start the sex parties. Near the staircase, three women had taken over a pool table Sasha had never personally seen function in an actual game of pool. Their moans followed her up to the second floor.

  Up on the VIP level, the blacklight was turned on, and the pole shows had already started. Though she didn’t frequent the club, Sasha knew how highly people spoke of the talent and strength of the dancers hired by Night. Since she had time to spare, Sasha paused to lean against the railing, gaze sweeping over two poles close together. Two women were dancing in sync, one on each pole. They moved as one, often linking arms or legs, and when they pulled off a move where they used each other’s strength to switch poles, Sasha gasped along with the crowd. She was curious about the rumor that Night himself got up on stage once a week, but it was always random, and no one ever knew which day he’d pick. Sasha had never seen any of his shows, but she’d bet it was something to see.

  When the song changed, Sasha clapped and continued to the elevator, assuming she would meet Razor in his private room upstairs. When she stood in front of the door she knew to be his room, she lifted her hand to knock. But she couldn’t pass up this opportunity to at least playfully annoy him by coming in unannounced. With a smile, she instead turned the knob to find the door unlocked.

  Pushing the door open, she was first welcomed in by the familiar, sweet smell of the herb Razor smoked. The sight of a shirtless Razor pacing with one of his hand-rolled cigarillos at his lips was her second welcome.

  “Honey, I’m home,” she called.

  When Razor turned to face her, with flared nostrils and dark eyes, she froze where she stood. Not that she was afraid. No, she was merely captivated by how his gaze seemed to soak her in like he was using her as a lifeboat.

  “Hey, you okay?” she asked hesitantly when he didn’t respond.

  “Come here,” he finally said, his voice husky.

  Unable to deny him that, she moved forward until she stood inches in front of him. On his exhale, smoke curled from his lips to caress her skin. The heady scent made her feel like time had ceased to exist.

  She meant to ask if everything was all right. She meant to launch into a summary of what she’d found at the school. But there was something going on in his mind, and she wanted to get rid of whatever latest stress was eating away at him. Razor was puffing away at the smoke like it was the cure to all that ailed him. She found her hand lifting until her fingers curled around the cigarillo, and when she took it from him, he frowned, but didn’t resist.

  She looked down at the smoke she held between her thumb and index finger. “What do you put in here?” The question had been bugging her for years, but she’d been too prideful to ask before. Then he would have known that she was curious about him. “The way you smoke them, it’s like they hold the key to the universe.”

  “Blood Root. The plants only grow in the Pit, nowhere else in the Underworld. That’s what all these vines on me are.” He motioned to the blue vines running over his torso and arms. He was watching her curiously as he did so, making no move to take the smoke back from her. “Is that your way of saying I have a problem?”

  “No. I think it’s incredibly hot, and I’ve never had a thing for smoking. It smells so good. I’ve actually started to smell this in my dreams.” She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Being in this new, tenuous relationship with him was throwing her off. Instead of having to think of what to say next, she went with her impulse.

  Bringing the cigarillo to her lips, she took a small, experimental drag. Despite the sweet smell, she still expected the awful taste she remembered from the odd cigarette she’d smoked in the past. But the sweet, earthy flavor danced on her tongue, caressed her throat, and settled her nerves almost immediately. “Well, shit,” she breathed, looking at Razor in wonder.

  She had almost no warning, except that she was beginning to get very good at reading his cues. He closed the small distance between them, his hand curling around the side of her neck as his lips claimed hers. She opened up to him with a soft moan, her arms going around his neck as she rubbed against him helplessly. Their tongues danced and it was only when she needed a breath that she had the strength to pull away.

  He was looking at her like he would devour her, and she knew that she’d enjoy every second of it. But she made herself put a hand on his chest and push him back. “What’s wrong?”

>   “What’s wrong is you’re wearing too many clothes and we’re still here, talking.”

  Sasha smiled. She knew this tactic very well. It was, after all, a favorite of hers. “And you look like you’re using me to escape whatever is going on in your mind.”

  Shaking his head, he seemed to come back to himself. He gave a soft growl and took the smoke back from her, stabbing it into an ashtray until it went out. “I feel helpless. Like all these centuries we’ve thought we had everything under control. Maybe we did, I don’t know. I thought we were keeping our borders secure, the city safe, and citizens happy. Now I think somewhere along the way, we got too comfortable. The hits just keep on coming, and I’m afraid we won’t be able to defend our land when things get really fucked.”

  She gave him a sympathetic smile. “I can’t even imagine what you and your brothers must be feeling right now. But I know that you have all of us to back you up, and we’re stronger together. So you need to stop thinking about this fight as being only yours. You’ll give yourself gray hair.” She touched her palm to his chest again. “Now sit down, and pull on your big-boy panties, because I’ve got some more shit to tell you.”

  “I don’t wear panties,” he growled playfully, swatting at her ass when she moved to take a seat.

  “Good, I prefer the easy access.”

  The mood changed when they sat and he saw how serious she was now. “I was looking for Castor in the abandoned school he likes to hang around with his gang, and I saw a Zimma Demon there instead.”

  Razor groaned. “Tell me you’re just fucking with me.”

  “Not this time, no. I’m almost certain this Demon—her name is Valtu—is creating the tainted drugs.” She fished out the baggie she’d taken from the school and held it out for him to take. “You can have it tested to make sure, but I’m pretty positive. If it walks like a duck and all that. And Raz, she’s really powerful. No one summoned her. She’s here on her own.”