“Jax,” a soft voice cooed, and I froze. Could it be...?
“Sasha?” I whispered.
But no. Sasha was dead.
Dead.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Blood continued to splatter around me. The ominous sound was almost addicting, breaking apart the monotony of silence I had grown accustomed to.
“I can be Sasha if you want,” the female who wasn’t Sasha said.
“Where is she?” My skin felt too tight, and I desperately wanted to rip it off. Undress myself from my skin. Free myself of the burden.
“She?” Not-Sasha released a lilting laugh. “You’re not talking about your dead school friend, are you?” She moved to crouch in front of me. “She left you. All alone. She knows what type of person you are, what type of monster. She knows what you did to Sasha.”
“No. No. No.” I shook my head vehemently in denial. I refused to believe that. She promised she wouldn’t leave me. Maybe not in words, but it had been clear in her eyes...
Eyes gorged from her head.
Blood.
Drip.
“She left you, Jax. She left you. They all did. Your brothers chose her over you. They don’t care about you. None of them do.”
I continued to shake my head as if that could somehow dispel her words from my mind.
“You’re not real,” I whispered harshly. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and willed the images away. The illusion, as my brothers repeatedly told me. I willed away the bleeding walls, the mysterious woman, and the smell of sweat.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
When I opened my eyes, minutes later, I was alone once more.
Alone. In darkness.
With the walls that dripped blood.
TWENTY-SEVEN
DEVLIN
I drummed my fingers against the thin oak table, my father’s words going in one ear and out the other.
He stood haughtily in the front of the boardroom dressed in a pristine black suit with his hair slicked back. The similarities between him and me were eerie. Brown hair, lightly tousled, olive-toned skin, and rich violet eyes. But his eyes...
Glacial didn’t even begin to describe them. They were devoid of warmth and affection, of feeling. Looking into them was what I imagined looking into dark, purple abysses would feel like.
The meeting dragged on and on, and by the time we were dismissed, I was practically running out of the door. I moved briskly down the hallway before stopping in a tiny crook between two doors. There, I leaned against the wall and folded my arms over my chest.
Waiting. The tension in the air could be cut with a butter knife.
After a moment, Laurel appeared with a slight sway to her hips. The female Genie was immensely powerful, perhaps even more powerful than me.
As a descendant of Greed, Genies relied religiously on deals and wishes. Contracts magically crafted with numerous stipulations to ensure obedience.
Fail to hold up your end of the bargain, and your soul became the Genie’s. That was the purpose of our lamps. A cage, one would say, of souls.
And the reason I was meeting Laurel in the dark hallway away from prying eyes.
“You found it?” I asked tersely, kicking myself off the wall. In answer, she thrust a purple bag into my proffered hand, and I checked the contents.
My heart, which was beating steadily, picked up speed. I could feel it reverberating in my chest, the sound deafening. I released a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
“I granted your wish,” Laurel said bitterly, hand extending. I fumbled in my pocket for her golden lamp and passed it to her. She held it reverently in both her hands, stroking her fingers down the sides.
I knew it was taboo to steal another Genie’s lamp and ask for three wishes, but I was desperate. That desperation clung to me like a sickly poison.
Laurel finally looked up from her ogling of the lamp, and her eyes narrowed into thin slits. No doubt, I had made an enemy out of the petite Genie.
Still maintaining eye-contact, she snapped her fingers and a scroll appeared, unraveling. I knew the words printed on the contract by heart. Every phrase and clause. Every condition. My name was signed in blood at the bottom, glaring back at me.
“I remember,” I told Laurel curtly, peeling my gaze from the dreaded paper. How could something so insignificant be so damning? “I’ll hold up my end of the deal.”
“You better.” She took a step forward and jabbed an accusatory finger into my stomach. “I hate being fucking used.”
Her finger lowered, trailing down my chest, and I stepped away from her touch as if it was toxic. I imagined my eyes were glowing vividly like a flame lit beneath the surface. She must’ve seen something in my gaze, felt my power whipping through both of us, for she took an automatic step back.
“Don’t. Touch. Me.” My words were a growl, nearly inarticulate. For the first time since I knew her, true fear flittered across her face. It was there and gone too quickly for me to be certain.
“You better hold up your end of the deal, Devlin,” she whispered icily. “Or else your soul is mine.”
In response, I flipped her the finger. Childish, yes. Effective, also yes.
Cuddling my new treasure, I sidestepped the very pissed off Genie and moved purposefully down the twisting hallways. I must’ve given off a vibe that said Don’t Fuck With Me because everybody did just that.
I passed my own room, stopping in front of Z’s. Her absence hung like a sword above my head, seconds from dropping. It was all I could do not to follow her to the Mermaid Kingdom and ensure with my own eyes that she was safe and well.
Pushing open the door, I took stock of the empty room. It was exactly as she had left it, the bedroom door wide open to reveal the bed still unmade from her night with Killian.
As I stared at the crumpled bed sheets, I waited for jealousy to hit me. If it was any
