“Don’t even remind me.” I groan, scrubbing a hand down my face. “Do you remember when Leslie did that strip-tease? She was totally giving you fuck me eyes the entire time.” I try—I honestly do—to keep my voice devoid of the jealousy I felt that day. We’d only been eighteen, but Leslie had already invested in a boob job. Hers were large and plump, garnering the attention of every man at the party.
“Really?” Avery blinks in genuine confusion. “I didn’t notice.”
“How didn’t you notice?” I exclaim. “She practically had her nipple in your face.”
This time, his smile is softer, sweeter. There’s no underlying darkness lingering, waiting to pounce. “Because all I could focus on was you.”
Fluttery butterflies spread through my chest as I smile up at him like a love-struck idiot.
“Really?” I breathe.
“You guys. Focus,” Desmond cuts in, playfully whacking us on the backs of our heads. He saunters a few steps in front of me, and I can’t stop the drool from escaping as I devour him from head to toe. Like Avery, he’s shirtless, but unlike Avery, he’s wearing tight leather pants instead of jeans. They squeeze his muscular thighs in the very same way I did just a few hours earlier. His dark hair brushes his chiseled chin as he flashes me a brilliant smile. He wears two glow sticks around one wrist and three around the other. On his chest is a neon print of my hand, directly over his heart.
“You’re just jealous,” Avery jibes, but the animosity that had been saturating the air earlier is nowhere to be seen. Good sex can do that for you.
“Of your pathetic ass?” Desmond throws his head back in laughter, continuing to walk backwards. He seems utterly oblivious to the numerous stares being thrown in his direction from the simpering, beautiful females. Fuck, why do my men have to be so fucking sexy?
As Avery and Desmond continue to verbally spar with each other, Helio places a large, calloused hand on my shoulder. His skin has never been smooth; I remember that distinctly from our time in the Realm of the Gods. It’s always been hard and cracked in places from years—no, centuries of hard, diligent work. It’s just one of the many things I love about him.
“Stay with one of us at all times tonight,” he instructs in that growly, husky voice of his. It never fails to make goosebumps ripple on my skin as my body simultaneously screams at me to run and hide. To wait until he chases me like a lion stalking a gazelle. Everything about Helio—from his muscular, six-foot-five frame, to his penetrating brown gaze, to the tribal tattoos wrapping around his forearm—exudes danger and masculinity. And while some people will run in the opposite direction, screaming their heads off, I want to run towards him. I want him to unleash his monster on me, chasing me until I submit. It’s a heady sensation, and one that causes a blush to enter my cheeks.
“I will,” I promise, lightly running a finger down a vein on his forearm. He shudders delicately, and I bite down on my lip to contain my smile. It never fails to amaze me that I’m capable of affecting a man like Helio Merrit, the God of Karma. To the others, I remind, “We’re not engaging with Rebecca at this time. I just want to make sure that it’s actually her before we plan anything.”
Before I destroy my brothers’ lives by killing the woman they love.
Before I make them hate me forever.
“Aye, aye, captain!” Sin, instead of a salute, uses his pointer and middle finger to make a sideways V. He then brings them to his mouth and begins to swirl his tongue around in a decidedly vulgar…and oddly erotic…gesture. My mind flashes to his tongue licking every inch of my body, and there’s no stopping the heat that unfurls in my stomach.
Soon,I whisper firmly, but I don’t know if I’m telling myself that…or mentally relaying that information to Sin. Something must appear in my eyes, for his own sharpen and heat exponentially. He drops his hand, but his tongue continues to fuck the air.
Today, he’s wearing his customary black suit with the cuffs rolled up. His blond, wavy hair is parted down the middle, giving him a disheveled look, despite the form-fitting suit. His facial hair has been neatly trimmed, framing pillowy lips that I know taste like sin itself—a fitting namesake.
The only guy that’s missing is Tate, much to his disgruntlement. Instead, we sent him to the police station to look up everything he could on the dead assassin from the warehouse and Rebecca Moon. I promised to text him with updates, and though he acted like he didn’t give a shit either way, I could see the relief in his eyes that he wouldn’t be kept in the dark.
Of course, that relief transformed into lust when he fucked me in the back of his police cruiser.
Ten out of ten would recommend getting a cop boyfriend.
“Let’s do this thing,” I whisper, squaring my shoulders.
As Desmond predicted, the bouncers let us straight in with subservient head nods. I have no idea what my guys did to instill the fear of God—pun intended—in them, but I have to say that it came in handy.
The interior of Crystals is a direct contrast to the rundown exterior. Strobe lights illuminate the throng of writhing bodies, each person dressed in a similar fashion to me and my guys. I spot numerous neon green shirts, face-paint, and stark white tennis shoes. The music blares an unfamiliar pop song as alcohol and cocaine are passed freely around. Not even four feet away from me, I
