SWNOVELS Prince Of Lust: Chapter 8
Last night had been unexpected, to say the least.
When I had come upstairs to check on Dabria and Ezequiel, I wasn’t surprised to find them becoming intimate. Ezequiel rarely found anyone unobtainable, and the way he had eye-fucked her in the club had been clue enough that he was going to make a move on her.
I had watched as they touched and wouldn’t have intruded if not for the invitation from him. It wasn’t the first time we had shared a lover, and wouldn’t be the last, but it had been the first time in too long that the lust in a woman’s eyes had made me erect. Though I had brought myself to climax, there had been a pull to join them.
I brushed the thought away and attributed it to the novelty of fucking a Reaper. Nothing more to consider.
For the luck of the Devil, another distraction replaced the slightly awkward morning following our adventurous night. Ezequiel had just fixed Bria some brunch when she stopped mid-bite and her eyes lit up behind her eyelids. She described her vision in as much detail as she could, but as her little instruction book stated, she would only need to step into the void to appear where her charge would meet their end.
She’d seen a gathering at a house on top of some cliffs overlooking the ocean. It wasn’t until we’d dressed and appeared at the front gate a few hours later that I realized it was owned by a celebrity bachelor who frequented The Deacon.
Another unexpected surprise was seeing another prince of Hell stalking around the pool: Seere, the Prince of Wrath. If he was there for a soul, then Bria would not be the only Reaper making an appearance.
Running into Seere at this party was happenstance but a pleasant one. He had been traveling for the last year and chasing the woman who held his obsession for this lifetime.
Seere’s eyes were inflamed at a woman across the patio. She was staring up at a man who hadn’t taken his gaze off her breasts since he’d approached her.
“Well, Prince of Wrath, what do you have planned to resolve that situation?” I asked, pointing my chin at the couple, but his attention was fixated.
“I’d like to rip that pig’s heart out through his throat, but we all know that would be terrible for my image,” he said, a twisted smile on his face.
“No, we can’t have that sort of PR nightmare on our heads.” I took a drink from my plastic cup and looked through the crowd for Ezequiel.
The victim, or charge, as a Reaper would eloquently dub them, was around somewhere, about to commit a misstep and plummet to their death from this cliffside luxury home. Statistically, the occurrence was few and far between. The likelihood of falling off a cruise ship was higher than tripping over a cliff at a lavish party.
I hoped for Seere’s sake it was the unfortunate soul who was chatting up the woman he had his claws dug into. Though, I wasn’t sure if it would have been kinder to the unsuspecting moron to fall off a cliff rather than meet Wrath himself. Once again, I was torn between entertainment and duty.
To my surprise, and seemingly his, Seere met my eyes. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“Ezequiel and I are helping a friend,” I answered.
He raised his brow. “Since when do the two of you have friends?”
“Since when do you obsess over human women?” I countered.
“My answer is much less suspicious than yours would be.”
I glanced around, seeing my opportunity to skirt around this particular confession. “Rain check. You’re about to be very busy.”
His eyes snapped away from me. “Fuck,” he snarled.
“Play nice,” I sang in mock warning, “and come around The Deacon this weekend. Blow off some steam, and we’ll catch up, brother.”
He didn’t answer. The two humans he had been gawking at had disappeared into the crowd, and the urgency to inflict his might was far more seductive than chewing the fat with me.
I edged the crowded deck, looking for Ezequiel and Bria, but I didn’t catch sight of a single bouncy gold or dark curl among the parade of bleached-blondes and surfer mops.
Time was running out, and it would be my head if the soul wasn’t ferried.
A hand caught my wrist. Then came the drunken voice of its owner. “Hey, aren’t you the owner of The Deacon?”
The small human woman beamed up at me, her glazed eyes waiting intently for the answer.
“No,” I lied and pulled my hand free.
“You look just like him!” she squealed, stepping into my path.
“I get that a lot,” I deadpanned. I tried side-stepping and moving past her, but her persistence prevailed.
“I know it’s you. Don’t you remember? I’m the girl who gave you head behind the DJ booth like six months ago. You said it was the best blow job you’ve had in a century.” She giggled and let out a snort.
“Doesn’t sound familiar.” Not as much of a lie. I’d been blown behind the DJ booth many times, and many had been great.
“Such a liar.”
Her playful attitude was becoming an annoyance.
“If you’d like to jog my memory, meet me in the bathroom in five minutes,” I said with a wink that made her blush brighter than the calorie-free seltzer in her hand.
“Get ready for your world to be rocked.” She looked me up and down, scrunching her nose in challenge. “Again.”
She bounded away in time to miss me rolling my eyes.
I finally made it to the hanging garden on the other side of the yard that overlooked the rolling hills of Los Angeles. The sun had gone down hours before the party had started, but you’d hardly be able to tell because of the light from downtown L.A.
The garden was sparse. Water was more expensive than gasoline, so the planters either stood bare or were filled with cacti. Large glass bottle art stood just about as high as I stood tall, and strung lights stretched from post to post, highlighting the effort the resident urban gardener had done based on DIY websites.
I’d almost turned back when Ezequiel rounded the corner, looking over his shoulder.
I hastened to meet him next to a blooming Joshua tree. “Where is Bria?”
He didn’t have to answer. Bria came from the same direction he had, her lip clamped between her teeth and worry heavy on her brow.
“He has to be here soon, right? My vision showed him stumbling over that wall there.” She pointed to a low rock wall that looked more like a step than a barrier.
“Just lie low here in the shadows and he’ll show,” Ezequiel said to her, then leaned his head close to mine. “She saw him taking shots with a bunch of frat guys inside. He’ll be looking for a bathroom any minute.”
“Fuck,” I cursed under my breath.
“What did you do?” His eyes narrowed at me.
My previous distraction could very well be the entire reason we were here. I pinched the bridge of my nose, already exhausted by the manipulation of fate Ezequiel and I had caused.
“There he is,” Bria said under her breath, sounding excited and terrified all at once.
Relieved and eager to get the task at hand over with, I took her by the shoulders and dipped down for our eyes to meet.
“All you have to do is stand next to him and wait for him to stumble. Then his soul will meet you once his pulse stops. It’s a long and rocky fall, so it should only be a few moments.”
Her eyes darted behind me and then back to my face as I spoke, but she nodded along. She closed her eyes and reached her hands behind her head to activate her Reaper’s cloak. Other humans would not be able to see her, but her charge would feel her presence and know she was there to accompany him to the next plane. Ezequiel and I wouldn’t be able to go with her or the soul. Though he was surrounded by those filthy with sin, he was bound for Heaven. We were not welcome there, even in the roles we were playing today.
Bria walked steadily down the path toward the spot where she had seen her charge fall in her vision, her hips sashaying in expert rhythm as her instincts kicked in.