Broken House (Tears of the Cosmos Book 2) Page 2

  Black may have been a sadistic fuck but I couldn’t disagree with his business and marketing skills.

  “I was wondering if you wanted to have a drink with me.” He trembled and his power leaked out to me. I tilted my head realizing he was a demon who actually fed on pain. Normally, I’d find the concept of playing with him rather interesting and fun. As it stood, I wasn’t feeling very “fun” lately. Being kidnapped and sober for the first time in years did that to a girl.

  My eyes wandered over the art deco decor. I sighed. “Why do you want to get a drink with me? You are a guest here, no? Do you normally play with your food? Dine with your hunt?”

  “Hunt?” His eyes went wide in surprise.

  I sighed and looked at Cormac. My brother reflected my tired look. The bastard looked so similar to me that it took “twin” to an entire new meaning. The curls of his honey blonde hair were currently gelled back, his purple highlights in full view. He used to hide them but in the past three weeks he’d stopped giving a fuck. I’d never hid my turquoise streaks. Why bother? As sirens people would only notice what they wanted to about us.

  In comparison to my outfit, Cormac wore a short sleeve linen shirt and pants with a bright tropical pattern paired with expensive loafers. His seafoam green eyes flickered back down to his cigarette. It always struck me as odd how angular and unusual our features were. Nearly cat-like if that made sense.

  “Listen,” I exhaled heavily and leaned forward to grasp the strangers hand. I felt the chill working through his body. “If you’d like a drink with me, I will be here tomorrow. In this exact spot. Deal?”

  After a quick nod the man was gone and I found myself exhausted. This smoky hazy day was nearly worse than torture. The worst part? Despite the three weeks here, I knew barely a day had passed on Earth realm. Mr. Black’s hotel manager had told us that frightening news himself. So fucking informative.

  That was another of my problems. As a King and a hotel owner, Mr. Black had many employees. But one in particular always seemed to be hovering over me. I had no idea what to make of him. The hotel manager, Draven, seemed different than the others here.

  Far fucking different than this asshole.

  My eyes flickered up to a figure walking towards us.

  “Lorcan,” Momon’s deep annoying voice echoed.

  Fun fact. Momon was a hunter for Mr. Black. He hunted collectables. Want to guess who he had been hunting recently? Toris, on the other hand, as a prince of the realm, had apparently been saving me from becoming a collectable. Oddly, it didn’t make me like the dead bastard anymore.

  “Yes, Asshole?” I chimed as my martini was replaced with a new one. It did nothing but give me something to do. The alcohol wasn’t affecting my system in the least.

  “Have you always been such a bitch?” he grunted, not waiting for a reply. “You know who was way more fun? Toris. But now he is fucking dead because of you.”

  The PTSD associated with Momon no longer bothered me despite his part in my incessant torture. Honestly, there was no real post traumatic stress with him at all. It was just him. He was just a wannabe PTSD package that was dark, twisted, and delicious… if you were into that. Unfortunately for him, I was not. He was just a fucking fly on my nose I realized was trapped in his own horror story and just as bored with it as the rest of us.

  “I find it funny,” I inhaled, “that you thought this was a good revenge plan. I thought you were smarter than this. Yet, you take your chance for fun, having me all alone and without him, and you decided to sell me off to a new master for approval. How cute is that? You’re nothing but a little puppy trying to please someone. Always.”

  His hand wrapped around my throat as Cormac gave a bored groan. I put my head back and exhaled my smoke right in Momon’s fucking face. His dark eyes shadowed and filled with fury. I partially closed my eyes as he squeezed tighter. I already hated the man, but he shouldn’t touch me like this. It incited something really dark inside of me. Something dark that would have been totally fine with someone, let’s say Adriel, grabbing me in the same way.

  Well, now I just missed those fuckers.

  “You’re such a fucking cunt, Lorcan,” he hissed.

  “You wouldn’t know what one of those looked like,” I goaded.

  Man, was I was bored! Not like he could kill me. I had a feeling even with my powers drained the immortality was here to stay. As in I was probably just going to land myself in an endless torture cycle one of these nights if someone got fixated on me.

  “Momon,” Draven’s husky, accented voice bit. “Please remove your hands from my property.”

  Now, how the fuck did he make that sound sexy?

  It wasn’t true. Mr. Black “owned” me. But, he did save me from being choked out. My siren entertained the fleeting question of changing owners. I refused to answer her.

  Momon grunted and left. Draven made his way around in expensive Italian leather shoes until he sprawled himself out in a parallel chair to me. I could feel the masculine power radiating off his frame as he pinned me with a gaze that heated my skin. I wanted to punch him but also fuck him. It was confusing.

  You would be attracted to your sadistic boss, Lorcan.

  I did consider him my “boss” in comparison to Mr. Black. The latter only came down at night and didn’t give a fucking shit whether or not Momon tortured me. For some reason, Draven did care. He was a monster. Sadistic, but somehow I was exempt from his pursuit of “fun” behavior.

  In a way, it sucked because Draven struck me as the type of person I would really enjoy playing with.

  Why did all the fucked up ones like me too much to hurt me?

  That, for the record, was as fucked up as it sounded. But I really had bigger things to worry about than my twisted head and heart.

  “Afternoon, handsome,” I chimed looking at him. The man was a monster, but he was aesthetically beautiful. And dead. His eyes were so fucking dead that they gave me the chills. I liked them. A lot. It made me feel like I was staring into a hard glinted surface of obsidian. No depth. No hidden meaning. Harsh. Cold. Dark.

  Fuck, that was sexy.

  “Why do you goad him?” he asked curiously. His voice was thickly accented and dark. It wasn’t a particular accent. Just timeless and filled with a husky sensuality. His slick black hair was glinting in the afternoon haze and his smooth skin contrasted to his black eyes. I had to give him props. The man always looked like a GQ magazine model.

  “Because he subjected me to some of the worst pain I’d ever experienced,” I noted in a bored tone. I refrained from the use of present tense because I wouldn’t want my boss to get offended. After all, I couldn’t forget that he helped Mr. Black each and every night. He rounded up the prisoners and he set the guests loose to hunt their prey.

  Every fucking night without fail.

  “I see.” He fixed me with a narrowed eye gaze after a moment. “Are you hungry?”

  “For?” You had to be careful here.

  “Food,” he grinned salaciously.

  Yes. Here was another problem. My boss had become somewhat fixated on me. Now, I hadn’t really gotten down to why he was doing all of this for Mr. Black. The torture. The games. I had a feeling it was more than just greed. There were times when no one was looking that an exhausted and frustrated expression would take over, showing his true dissatisfaction.

  Huh. I probably was paying a bit too much attention to him. Maybe I was the one fixated. That was a problem, right?

  But there was something truly haunted to this man and I craved to know from where it stemmed.

  I know. Healthy.

  Part of it was that I wanted to know why he went easy on Cormac and me. I’d tried out my powers on him several times but each and every time he seemed to swipe them away with ease. It was unnerving but a great distraction from the horrible pain wracking through my center at the thought of never seeing my bonded again. Draven never admitted to going easy on us but I’d noticed that whenever Mr. Black
was near us he would divert his attention.

  “Sure.” I stood up as Cormac glared at the man. Draven didn’t react, just met his gaze and led me towards the dining room on the bottom floor. Chandeliers and champagne crowded my vision as a jazz band circulated music through the room. We didn’t have to wait to be seated as my boss led me towards a velvet pink booth.

  “Mr. Arenson!” A woman with a bright dimpled smile came over with a wine menu, “What an honor.”

  Apparently, the frequency with which Mr. Arenson had been coming down from his high tower lately had been odd. That was where the guests stayed, by the way. My lips pressed into a cocky smile as Draven refused to look away from me and take the wine menu from her. Instead, his expensive cologne enveloped me as those fathomless eyes focused intently on my smile.

  “We will take a bottle of Dom Perrigon,” he stated.

  “2000.” Both of us spoke at the same time. At least Hell had the good stuff.

  The woman, a cherry red bombshell, scowled as I laughed openly. I watched as she walked away and I took a sip of my now finished martini and tapped my cigarette on a nearby ashtray.

  “Do you enjoy taunting others, Lorcan?” he asked in his ageless voice.

  I licked my lips subconsciously. “Do I love taunting others? Well, Mr. Arenson, taunting seems to insinuate that I am looking for a particular reaction. I can assure you that I’m not. I’m just a bitch.”

  He hummed and chuckled. “You are such a fucking priceless treasure, my little lamb.”

  I met his gaze as I inhaled, then blew curls of smoke in his face. “You must explain that nickname to me.”

  The bombshell came back and opened the bottle in front of us, pouring two glasses. My heart tightened thinking about my boys and the last time I’d drank this. My nails, neon pink, tapped on the crystal sealed table top. Now was not the time to panic.

  Except I could practically feel the ghost of Dean’s lips against my own. I tried to hold back a shiver as my body reacted to the memory of his dominant touch.

  “You’re soft and beautiful like a lamb.” Draven sounded saccharin instead of sweet. “Innocent and clueless to the den of lions that she has wandered into.”

  I snorted and laughed softly as the waitress bitch stilled.

  “What?” I narrowed my eyes.

  Neither of them knew just how well acquainted I was with the lion’s den. My kitty cats.

  My lips pulled into a smile thinking of Dean and his brothers. The waitress sprinted off practically, tripping over her own feet.

  “You know,” Draven’s minty breath tickled my ear. “Some might find it rude to laugh at their boss’s opinion.”

  His power wrapped around me like a seductive protective blanket as the feeling of feathers brushed against my skin. I held back a shiver trying to act unaffected by his proximity.

  I turned my face to him so that we were only inches apart. “Something tells me that you aren’t that boss.”

  “Is that so?” He narrowed his eyes with interest tilting his head. The action looked odd on his massive frame. “Do you feel like you know me, lamb?”

  “No,” I stated, inhaling on my cancer stick. “Not in the least. Nor am I interested.”

  “You confuse me,” he admitted casually, but that was a lie.

  I turned completely to him so that we probably looked like a couple. “No, I don’t. I think you understand me perfectly. I am not interested in you. In the least. Do you want to know what I am interested in, Draven?”

  He startled as I spoke his name. He’d never admitted it out loud. Despite not being able to read his desires, I’d heard his name through Momon’s mind. He was one of the top hunters and one of the few people that knew his real name.

  “What are you interested in?” He grasped my neck in a firm hold. I didn’t even flinch at the movement as a dark look filtered through his fathomless eyes. His thumb began to brush a light pattern against my skin. As I’ve mentioned, it didn’t really surprise me that I liked his rough touch. My psyche was still a bundled mess of pain and pleasure associations that made it difficult to expect anything but rough treatement when it came to sex. Fun shit. Right?

  “I am interested in getting the fuck out of here,” I murmured with ease.

  Almost as if a weird snap had occurred, fury rained down through his eyes and he looked like he was going to break something. I think I’d hurt him. Hurt his feelings. I wasn’t positive how or if I actually cared. The haunted man’s magic wrapped around me as that weird feathered sensation brushed across my skin, his hand tightening slightly. I hoped he wouldn’t snap my neck. I happened to like my neck.

  “Well, that’s fucking unfortunate, Lorcan. You’re mine and you’re staying until I fucking decide differently.” A possessive look filtered across his face before he left. So much for lunch.

  Asshole.

  Chapter 2

  Lorcan

  There were several things I noticed during my time here at Broken House. One, Draven turned me on and annoyed me. Two, Mr. Black was a scary motherfucker. Three, there was an odd yet massive power drain happening here and I had no idea where the fuck it was coming from. Even now I could feel it slowly pulling on me. Although, to be fair, it had been less than usual of late. I’d come to the conclusion that it had to be connected to Black himself.

  It was early in the evening, long before the time the hunt would begin, yet Mr. Black had called a meeting. Being the good puppet I was, I’d gotten my ass up and walked over towards the “throne room” he kept. I’d never been there before but now it seemed I was going to get a first hand look.

  Goodie.

  I frowned as we entered a large marble room with an expansive throne of pure white surrounded by red and black. How opulent. My eyes found Mr. Black. Usually, Draven was here to divert attention away from the two of us but, as it stood, he seemed busy so Mr. Black’s eyes fell right to us. I really didn’t want his attention and I tried to look at anything else besides him. You couldn’t blame me. He was creepily thin and tall like a tree. His orange hair stuck out in a million greasy directions. His coat was a dark, blood red and the smile stretched across his gaunt face was sadistic. A demon for sure and a fucking strong one. This place was like fucking PTSD on crack.

  My lips curled into a sick smile.

  The one thing I knew how to deal with? Pain.

  Love? Nope.

  Affection? Nope.

  Sweet touches? Nope.

  Pain? Yes. Torture? Yes. Sadistic demons? Fuck yes. Bring it.

  I was in my element.

  “Good afternoon,” the demon hissed as he walked forward. “Such pretty pretty creatures under my roof.”

  I’ll show you fucking pretty, buddy.

  My siren flickered as she sat up antagonistically. I knew that she wanted to fight for us but we needed to chill for now. Defensive measures though? Yeah we could do those. She snarled at the sadistic fuck as truly horrifying desire spiraled off him.

  “Let’s introduce ourselves, shall we?” he prompted. He started at the other end of the line. In that moment I felt the power shift as Draven walked in. His eyes widened at the sight of Cormac and me. Clearly he hadn’t expected us here. I hid my smirk. I liked keeping him on edge. He stood there as Mr. Black asked each and everyone of the twenty of us what species we were. When he got to the end and faced Cormac and me, we answered with the lie we’d practiced.

  “Star elves.”

  “Oh!” he squealed as he pinched my cheeks. “This is just perfect. You are going to be stunning on stage. Tell me dear what color do you bleed?”

  On stage?

  Draven spoke. “On stage?”

  Mr. Black’s eyes lit up. “Yes! That is why I called all of you here. We will be changing things up for a bit, of course, still offering the hunt, but each night we will also be performing a show. A circus of sorts. Each of you will be brought out and our guests can pay to torture you in front of a crowd. We did this years ago, but I had to stop because i
t grew boring, isn’t that right, Mr. Arenson? Lucky for you, if you are performing in the circus you are exempt from the hunt that night. We can’t have you dying too fast!”

  Oh, what a fun turn of events. I just love surprises.

  Cormac grunted as Draven let out a low pained sound that Mr. Black didn’t notice. Black’s focus turned back to me. “Now, doll, what is your name? And for the second time, what color do you bleed?”

  “My name is Lorcan,” I murmured then I spoke the truth because being a star elf was special enough for him. “Blue.”

  God. This man wanted so much pain.

  I could feel my siren fighting the urge to give him what he wanted. Wasn’t that the worst part about all of this? I wanted to give in to this man’s sadistic fucking wishes. It was twisted. The stronger the desire the harder it was to fight it.

  His smile grew and I clenched my jaw as a knife, slipped from his wrist sleeve, slit a thin cut across my cheek. The pointed blade spun down into his palm before he put it away. He dipped a bony finger into the trickle of blood pouring down my jaw. He brought it to his mouth, sucking it dry, and groaned.

  Lovely.

  “Delicious,” he groaned while licking it. “You are delectable. I want you both performing tonight, it will be a fantastic set. I am positive! We will have some of our most violent guests in attendance. Do you feel pain? You seem to heal extraordinarily quickly.”

  This guy was actually a fucking psycho.

  “I do.”

  “Oh, good!” he cheered and squeezed my cheek before turning towards his group of men. Draven stood to the side his eyes now intently focused on me. I smirked which caused his eyes to darken. Somehow, someway I’d already pissed him off.

  It was a talent.

  I breathed in finding my grounding. I was feeling oddly okay. That didn’t surprise me since abuse had been my normal for so long. I was finding a comfortable numbness that even my siren was okay with. After all, we had forever and I couldn’t lose my sense of humor now, could I? This was more normal than anything that had happened with my boys.