When I come up onto my knees, she looks down her body at my still throbbing dick, slick and streaked with red.
“I want to taste too,” she utters, sitting up.
A wicked smile plays on my lips. She’s learning so quickly. “And so you shall.”
I lean back and Darling wastes no time covering my cock with her mouth and sucking me deep. Fuck, if I hadn’t seen and licked the blood myself, I would swear she was no virgin. Yet, here she is, tasting the evidence of her own lost virtue.
Fiery needles prickle my back and I have to grasp the sheets as raging hot heroin shoots into my bloodstream. She savors me when I come, swallowing and suckling until every drop of madness is purged from my body. Then she collapses beside me, sated, exhausted, and blissful beyond measure.
“Happy birthday, pet,” I whisper into her hair, then kiss her forehead gently.
Darling smiles then nuzzles into my bare chest. “You made my wish come true.”
“That I did.”
“I guess you really are my guardian angel.” She yawns and her eyes flutter shut as she curls in closer like a sleepy kitten.
I stay still long enough to hear her breathing slow and deepen. Then I lift her sleeping frame to the head of the bed and tuck her into the covers.
Now, I know what I must do.
Stealthily, I rummage through my things to pull out a stack of bills—enough to get her far away from here and every other spiteful fuck. Then I write her a note, telling her to stay at the suite for as long as she wants. It’ll be hours before she wakes and reads it, and by that time, I’ll be long gone without a trace aside from the blood-stained sheets and the soreness between her thighs. And the memory of her sad, dark guardian angel.
After I’ve showered and changed, I step out of my bedroom to find Michael lazing on the couch. I’m not surprised. I felt him when he arrived, just as he felt my resolve shatter into a million pieces, just as he planned.
He climbs to his feet, a knowing smile on his lips. “That didn’t take long at all.”
I grab my coat and turn for the door. “We’re leaving. I just need to take care of something first.”
“Oh?” he begins, his tone amused. He falls into step beside me. “And where are you going?”
My finger hits the elevator button and the doors slide open, welcoming us to our final descent. “To make it my fucking problem.”
Chapter 5
The bar is off the strip, nestled between aging casinos and restaurants. It wasn’t hard to find, especially since I knew where it was just by scenting the air. I may be rusty from being out of the game for the past seven months, but I can always find my ilk. And Casper is one of mine.
We sit out in the car, tracking each sound and movement with our amped up hearing. Shit, I forgot how much easier taking out the trash was with the use of our powers. I doubt we’ll even break a sweat, let alone get dirty, thank fuck for that.
“Found him,” Michael notes, his tone almost bored. “And the others.”
“Good.”
“Need a hand?”
I shake my head. “No. I’ll see you in a few.”
Without another word, he dissipates, leaving a plume of white feathers in his wake that dissolve before they even hit the leather seat. Showoff.
I exit the car, stowing the dramatics for the main event. The building looks like shit from the outside, but I’m smart enough to know that it’s all a front to conceal its real purpose. Drugs, guns, prostitution. This is Casper’s headquarters.
There are two muscle bound meat sacks guarding the door that jump to their feet as I approach. I don my best devious grin, smooth the lapels of my jacket, and extend a palm.
“Good evening, gentlemen. I’m here for Casper.”
“Who the fuck are you?” Meat sack number one barks.
I exhale heavily. “Tsk, tsk. Such crass words.” I lift a finger and his head does a three-sixty, halfway tearing itself from his neck. “Doesn’t anyone have manners these days? Now, as I was saying…”
“He’s inside!” the other, smarter cretin shrieks before having the good sense to run away.
“Now that’s more like it,” I say to the semi-decapitated heap of shit on the concrete.
Just for the fuck of it, I press my lips into a tight circle and blow, as if I were extinguishing a candle. The doors fly open with hurricane force winds, nearly ripping off the hinges. And just as I expect, every wide, furious eye is on me as I step into a room full of thugs.
“Awww, you guys didn’t have to all show up for little old me. I feel like the belle of the ball,” I croon, casually stepping over the threshold. Hand in my pocket, clothes and hair meticulously styled, there’s no question that I don’t belong here.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” some fat fuck in fake leather sneers.
I shake my head. “Your friend outside asked me the same question. It didn’t end well for him. But since I’m feeling gracious, you’re welcome to go check now or you can continue to sling obscenities at me. Your choice.”
“You punk ass bitch—”
That’s all I permit him to get out before his tongue is yanked from his mouth, taking most of this throat along with it. Honestly, I could have done it sooner, but I was curious to see if he would get creative. No. Just an artless punk ass bitch. How original.
“Now,” I begin, inspecting my cuticles while chaos explodes around the room. “As I was saying. I’m here for Casper. I don’t want to kill you all, but… Who am I kidding? I do want to kill you all.”
The distinct clicks of gun hammers, the flicking of knives, and—oh look! A baseball bat—other manmade weapons sound around me. I sigh.
“Seriously? You just watched me yank your buddy’s tongue out without moving a muscle, and you think bullets will stop me? Tell you what. I’ll save you the trouble.”
I step forward and lift a palm, causing every gun to discharge. However, the bullets all land in my open hand with soft clinks reminiscent of a wind chime. A tense hush falls over the room before shouts and yelps about everything from ghosts to witchcraft erupt.
“Really, why does everyone else get all the credit? A ghost? Can a ghost do this?” I kick the closest guy to me and his femur snaps in two. “A witch? Do I look like a witch to you?” Down goes another asshole as I make my way to the center of the bar. He doesn’t technically need two arms. “Why can’t I get credit where credit is due?”
“Master,” someone calls out from behind the fray. The crowd parts and finally, out walks the hulking, unnaturally pale man they call Casper, also known as the demon Asmodeus. He wears an expensive, yet ill-fitting suit over his gorilla-like frame and his loafers are Tom Ford. Dammit. I do like his shoes.
“As! Is that you? My, my…all your time on Earth is really wearing on you. Have you tried spray tans? I heard they’re just like the real thing.”
Asmodeus slowly makes his way to the center of the room where I’m stationed. He’s scared, but he won’t show it in front of his men. Not when they aren’t aware that they’ve been led by the demon of lust and luxury.
“Why are…” he begins before reevaluating his tone. “This is such a surprise. What brings you to my city?”
“Your city?” I guffaw. “Oh dear, sweet Asmodeus.”
He looks around anxiously, visibly disturbed by the whispers questioning his real identity.
“Oh, don’t worry, As. It doesn’t matter if they know who you are. They’ll be dead soon, anyway.”
Like shooting off a round in a herd of musty, beer-breathed wildebeests, the rest of Asmodeus’s crew finally finds the good sense to try to flee and stampede towards the exit. But they soon find that all attempts to escape are futile.
“Don’t bother running. As you have discovered, the doors and windows are sealed. However, you’re in luck! You’re all invited to my little soirée. And trust me, my parties always kill.” I walk over to a trembling young man sitting at a rickety wooden table. He’s not like the rest of
them. He doesn’t belong here. He was forced into this. “Except for you. You can go.”
The young man is too stunned to react at first, and when he does, he looks around to see if I’m referring to someone else.
“Yes, you. Go. And take the women with you. And never, ever mention what you saw here nor return.”
The boy begins to cry fat, grateful tears. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Thank you.”
The half-clad females in the room—most likely strippers and prostitutes from Casper’s other hustles—scramble to the door to join the boy. It unseals, granting them access. But as selfish weaklings do, the other men try to trample them to get to freedom. And one by one, those foul fucks fall to their deaths the second they hit the threshold.
“I said him and the women. That’s it. Now unless you feel I’ve made some grave mistake, please take your seats and wait until I address you. Are we clear?” I ask, sounding more like Michael than I’m comfortable with. I inwardly cringe.
“Master,” Asmodeus begins. He’s visibly shaken now and knows better than to try to play tough guy for his friends. “I don’t understand. I thought you would be pleased.”
“And normally I would be. But you forgot one thing: I don’t abuse children.”
Asmodeus frowns. “Children?”
“A boy tried to steal from you and you decided that selling his twin sister’s body was a reasonable exchange. And until a few hours ago, they were both minors. Now, if I had to guess, you’ve allowed some terrible things to happen to that boy over the course of his imprisonment. Things I surely wouldn’t approve of. Am I right? Please be honest. You know how I feel about being lied to.”
Asmodeus frowns. “All this…is about that kid? I’ll excuse his debt right now. I’ll let him go. I swear it.”
I shake my head. “No need. He’s already gone.”
“Then why are you here? Why are you killing my men?”
I step in close, provoking him to fall to his knees like the spineless coward that he is. “Because this isn’t the first time you’ve crossed the line. You’ve been trafficking children, allowing them to be raped, abused, and murdered for sport. And I was too distracted to give a fuck. Now…I give a fuck. And everyone in this room—everyone who knew about it, who facilitated it, who engaged in these sick acts—will pay.”
The walls begin to hemorrhage blood in thick, hot, dark red streams that flood the floor and surfaces. Then with a snap of my fingers, the blood ignites with hellfire to scorch all it touches. Screams and cries ring out around the room and the scent of burning flesh fills my nostrils, yet I do not break my stare. My eyes—violent, amethyst depths that churn with the agony of a million souls—stay fixed on Asmodeus. He’s unable to look away as I steal the essence of his pathetic existence and cast him into nothingness, leaving nothing behind but a lifeless husk. His body will be dead, but his soul…his soul will suffer for eternity. And I have a special place in Hell for those who hurt children.
“You…” he croaks, as what he was for millions of years is stripped from him. “You won’t win. There’s a new…king. A new order. You won’t win. The fallen shall reign.”
Those last four words paint my vision red and without even thinking it, the whole room is engulfed in flames, turning everything and everyone to ash.
I walk out of the dilapidated bar brushing a few rogue embers from the sleeve of my suit jacket. Or was that a person? Eh. It belongs in an urn at this point.
“Was it nice inside at least?” Michael asks. He’s back in the passenger seat with a cell phone between his fingers. He doesn’t even look up. He’s too busy collecting little sunbursts so he can buy zombie-killing plants for his lawn.
I glance up at the building that once was the headquarters for the largest child trafficking operation in the state. The bar still looks nondescript and abandoned from the outside. No one will know what happened here, at least for a couple days. Then whatever didn’t burn to ash will begin to decompose and stink.
“A dump.”
“Oh! I should have asked you to bring me a Coke before you turned it into charcoal. I’m thirsty. Darn.”
I grin, shaking my head, and rev up the Bentley. “We’ll stop at a gas station on the way.”
“So where are we off to now, brother?” he questions, just before a zombie makes it past his defenses and eats his brains. He grunts his disappointment.
“Colorado Springs.”
That gets his attention, and he spares me a quick glance before restarting the level. “Oh? Finally going to stop feeling sorry for yourself and go fight for your girl?”
“I’ve got a friend who owes me a favor,” I reply, maneuvering out of the parking lot to head towards I-15N, the road that would lead me back to the life and the love I left behind. “And yeah…that too.”
About S.L. Jennings
S.L. Jennings is a military wife, mom of three, coffee addict, Willy Wonka enthusiast, and real-life unicorn. She’s also the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of Taint, Fear of Falling, and The Se7en Sinners Series, along with quite a few other titles that she’s too lazy to type. She’s been with her high school sweetheart for almost 20 years, and he still can’t get her Subway sandwich order right. But he’s cute and brings her vodka, so she keeps him around. They currently reside in Spokane, WA with their three stinky boys and their equally stinky, asshole cat.
Follow Me
(Stalkers welcome)
Also by S.L. Jennings
Luc and the Se7en will return in 2019.
Add the 5th Se7en Sinners book to your TBR.
Where Eden, Legion, and Luc’s sultry, sinful love story begins:
Born Sinner
End of Eden
Wicked Ruin
Fallen Reign
Then dive into the seductive, mystical world of the Dark:
The Complete Dark Light Series
Chapter 1
“Tatyana, we must leave. Stand up now!” Grace orders, shuffling me out of my bed with enough urgency to draw me out of my sleep.
I push away the soft silk that licks around my skin and swing my legs off my bed. “What’s happening?”
Grace dips behind the large cement fountain that I have in the center of my bedroom, and disappears inside the closet, taking out a large white sack. Grace is one of the original Seven Angels of God, the only one who really took an interest in me. From the time I was a little girl, the Angels of God didn’t take a liking to me. I put it down to that they were snobbish and rude, and eventually trained myself to let it go. Some people lack the mental capacity to be nice, even angels. Grace would say that it wasn’t anything and that that’s just how they were, but I saw how they treated other angels who were being groomed for The Switch. The Switch happened every one-thousand years and is when the Seven Angels of God change to the next seven. You have to be of direct lineage to Him, and even then, not every angel born has the honor of becoming one of the Seven. Upon birth, an invisible holocaust wraps around your throat like a choker, which only other people of holy power can see. It’s a way to keep us safe from other beings out there who might want to harm our kind. So, since I was born, I have been raised, groomed, and acknowledged to do The Switch.
I touch my throat, watching Grace as she zaps around the room with urgency. Her hair is falling all over the place in her desperate chore. All angels of The Seven have the purest of white hair, all in various styles as we grow and find our likes. We all look different, some dark-skinned, some white, some tanned, some a cross between, but at the end of our differences, is one thing we all rock in similarity, and that’s our silver-white hair. I wear mine long, all the way to my tailbone, and straight. There’s only one difference with my hair that sets me apart from the rest, and for some time now I have always thought maybe that was why The Seven ridiculed me, and that’s the single black streak that hangs down the front of my hair.
Grace said she wasn’t sure why the streak was there, but that wasn’t why they didn’t like me.
“Tatyana, you have to get up and move. Now.” Her tone is a lot more urgent now.
“Grace, what’s going on? I turn eighteen tomorrow, I’m to be initiated and take my place as one of The Seven.”
Grace pauses her movements, her arms dropping in defeat while still managing to throw the last of the items in her hands into the white sack. She yanks on the gold rope and ties a knot to fasten it. “Tatyana, there’s something I need to tell you about the day you were found.”
I step closer to her, urging for her next words.
She hands me the sack. “I don’t have much time because they’re coming for you. But I found you at the gate when you were only a few days old. You were wrapped in a black cloak and had on clothes of the world. I was perplexed because there was no way that a human baby could enter the gates. But when I unwrapped the cloak and saw your markings, I quickly took you to Royalty to make sure what I saw was real.” She inhales, her eyes coming to mine. Brown to my blue. “Tatyana, you are an angel, of the purest kind.”
“I know that I have lineage, but are you saying that mine is closer?”
She swallows, her throat bobbing past the movement. She ignores my question, her hand coming up to touch the streak in my hair. I pull away from her touch because, for the first time in my life, I didn’t want her to touch it.
“But you are also of evil.”
My head spun so fast that my hand flew out to the post of my bed to stabilize me. “No.” I shake my head. “That can’t be true.”
She nods. “It is, Tatyana, and I’ve only been able to hold them off until now. They know. They found out and now you must leave.”
I searched Grace’s features, a face I have trusted all my life because she was always so kind to take me under her wing—literally.
I clear my throat. “Well, how do they know now?” I try hard not to let it impact me in this very moment because now I realize why Grace has been frantically running around my room, and she’s right, if what she says is right and they know, then I’m in grave danger.
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