— I heard it’s some kind of sex cult — the girl in black says to the one in red.
The line to get into Nox Trium — the city’s hottest new night spot — almost wraps around the corner, and while I wait for my best friend, Brinna, I tune into the conversation of two girls in front of me.
— A friend told me that her friend was never the same after she started hanging out with them — she goes on. — My friend thinks they stole her soul.
I shake my head to myself. How can people be so superstitious?
— What I heard is they hole up in a room and share women — Red chimes in, instantly catching my attention. — Not that I’d mind being passed around between those two… Look at him, in that leather jacket…
My gaze follows hers to the small black metal door of the club, where a massive bouncer lets only women through. But it’s not the bouncer they’re staring at.
Light jeans, a brown leather jacket. Sun-browned skin, dark hair brushing his jaw. His neck is thick, his jawline… devastatingly masculine.
I nearly forget to breathe just looking at him.
But there’s something… off… about him. The beauty pulls me in, yet a strange unease curls tight inside me, prickling the back of my neck and my arms with goosebumps.
Then he slips out of sight, and the bouncer waves a few more girls inside.
I shove the image of that man out of my head. Damn it, Brinna, birthday or not, you didn’t have to be this late…
And then it happens.
A car screeches to a stop in front of the club, tires screaming against asphalt.
My eyes snap to it just as the passenger window rolls down.
Under the soft glow of the neon sign, the barrel of a gun glints.
Aimed… at me.
In a split second, one single thought: I’m going to die. Alone. Just like I grew up.
The shots crack through the street. Sharp. Two.
Instinct takes over. My body twists, arm flying up to shield my face. The car tears away as fast as it appeared, vanishing around the corner.
And then I feel it — searing heat slicing across my skin. Before I can even name the pain, the bouncer and strangers crowd around me, questions flying.
My gaze follows the path of the burn, and I finally see why they’re panicked. I’m bleeding.
Ruby-red liquid streams hot and thick down my arm, dripping from my fingers onto the pavement.
My stomach lurches, my knees buckle, and darkness closes in, swallowing both my vision and my strength.
And then nothing.
--------------------- // ----------------------- // ----------------------
— Hey… wake up… — A man’s voice,so calm it almost sounds angelic, calls to me as I feel a touch against my cheek.
I blink my eyes open, and the first thing I see are chocolate-brown irises staring into mine. I blink again, and by reflex my body pushes upright.
I’m on a black leather couch, in what looks like a small library. Kneeling on the floor in front of me is the man — and for a moment, my breath catches.
My shoulders lock tight.
It’s him.
— You were hurt, but you’re fine now — he says, his voice sliding over me, stroking my skin.
My gaze drops to my arm. Gauze wrapped in strips of tape covers the spot that had been burning before.
— What is this place? — I’m still dazed.
— The club’s office. I brought you here when you fainted. Do you feel okay?
— Yes. I pass out when I see blood… I’ve always been that way.
He tips his mouth into the most ironic — and the most hypnotic—half-smile I’ve ever seen.
— You faint at the sight of blood? How… interesting.
My eyes lock on that smile, and before I realize it, I’m holding my breath again. I force myself out of the strange trance gripping my mind.
— Did I get shot? Why would someone do that to me?
— Just a graze. They were aiming at me. I was heading back to the door and stopped too close to you.
— And why would anyone be shooting at you?
He shrugs, casual, but his eyes never leave mine.
— Maybe I stepped on a few toes with the opening of the club. Competition’s fierce… this city’s full of mobsters.
— I’m Samiel. — He extends his hand. — My friends call me Sami.
When our fingers touch, his heat invades my skin, and a simple handshake feels… far too intimate for a stranger. Indecent. But in the most delicious way.
I can’t stop staring at him, caught by the shape of his lips.
— Beautiful… — I clear my throat. — Your… name.
He arches a brow and smiles, like he knows exactly the embarrassing effect he has on me.
— Now’s the part where you tell me yours.
A rush of shame floods through me, sharp and sudden.
— Alexia — I say firmly. — Lexi.
— Come, Lexi. There’s someone I want you to meet. — His voice dances over every syllable, and butterflies rise from the pit of my stomach all the way to the back of my neck. My whole body reacts to his presence.
We walk down a dim hallway, apparently on the floor above the club — I can still hear the music pulsing below. The corridor ends at a rough wooden staircase, and when we climb it, an anteroom opens with a set of leather sofas.
But it isn’t the furniture that freezes me where I stand — leaving me utterly stunned.
Right in front of me, two men and a woman are tangled in a threesome so raw, so explicit, I can’t even move.
— Wait here. I’ll be back. — Samiel slips through another door, vanishing from sight.
I can’t answer.
The woman is caught between them — her mouth completely buried on one man’s hardness while the other takes her from behind, driving into her so hard it rocks all three of them. They’re drenched in sweat, their faces so lost in pleasure that for a moment I wonder if they’re high on something.
Heat floods between my thighs, slick enough I swear it could slide down my legs. Every thrust, every movement, hits me like it’s happening to my own body. My pulse races. I can’t look away.
I rub my hands up and down my arms, trying to calm the relentless shivers. They see me too, but don’t care that I’m watching.
— Do you like it? — The voice comes low and hot, right behind me.
I turn, and Samiel is there, his eyes darkened with a gleam I hadn’t seen before. I’d been so lost in the scene, I didn’t even hear him return.
— No — I lie. — It’s vulgar.
He only smiles.
— Come on. He’s not here.
I follow him, my cheeks and neck burning with… I don’t even know what. And then my gaze drops to my hand, where the bandage is gone. I must’ve ripped it off without even noticing.
I look at the spot where the wound should be and…
What?
Where there should be a long graze from a bullet… there’s nothing.
Seven chairs. Too wide, too tall.Seven thrones of dark, carved wood, set in a half-circle. A harsh white light beams down from above, flooding the center, leaving the rest of the chamber in shadow. Too theatrical. That’s how they like their stage.And on the thrones — the same as always. The Council. White forms, faceless, their heads nothing but blinding light. No features, just a brilliance that sears your eyes if you stare too long. Their voices echo from nowhere, as if carried through space itself.They think themselves gods. But they’re only angels.Gabriel presides. At his side, the others: Uriel, Raphael, Michael…Angels — the damned landlords of the universe. Humans have it wrong. These bastards never show mercy. They’re nothing but celestial bureaucrats.— Caelith’s vicarius was attacked in his own territory — Azrion starts. — Sentinels. I want authorization to strike back at that church.The six murmur among themselves, their words sealed from my ears.— Denied. — Gabriel a
I open my eyes. The ceiling is high, white, bare, and the light slipping through the heavy curtains is faint. It takes me a second to process that I’m not in my apartment. I’m in Cael’s room.The bed is massive, soft, dressed in stark white sheets. Two oversized nightstands, a stone floor softened by pale rugs, and a closet big enough to swallow my entire place. This bedroom alone is larger than my whole apartment.I’m alone. I don’t know where he slept — or if he did.But the emptiness of the space, its cold decoration, drags me back to last night. To my new, unwanted reality: threatened by some kind of… gangster, and hiding with the two most enigmatic men I’ve ever met. Men who unsettle me… men who draw me in. Especially one of them — the worst of the two.I step out and explore the apartment: an enormous open-plan space, almost like a studio, with floor-to-ceiling windows framing a breathtaking view of the city. Dark leather sofas, glass-and-metal coffee tables. At the center of it
Her scent hits before she does. Sweet and clean, cutting through the stench of liquor and sweat in the game room. I try to lock onto the eight ball, lining up my shot, but the presence of this human drags across my skin.— I need one of you to show me the invoices…Her voice is background noise I force myself to ignore. Samiel answers for both of us, like he always does. Then he calls her back.— Come relax for a bit, Lexi.My eyes narrow on him. Samiel never misses a chance to shove her toward me. He’s serving her up on a silver platter, and it grates the hell out of me. Only the clan master can claim a victus, and he knows I don’t want her. Still, he pushes, as if without her the clan might crumble.She steps closer, and her scent slams harder with every inch she closes. It’s tangled with Samiel’s — a faint trace left from the day she took that bullet — but not enough. Not a real mark. Especially because mine isn’t there.— I haven’t heard your voice yet — she says, looking right at
— He’s one of them, isn’t he? The mobsters who tried to kill you — and shot me? — I ask Sami, standing across from me in the office.— No — he says calmly.— No? That’s all you’ve got for me?— I’ll get you a drink. You need one.I watch him leave. I’m shaking, my hands so cold I can’t even feel my fingertips. I was just threatened by a gangster.When the door opens again, both men step in. Sami hands me a glass of wine.I toss it back in one swallow, their eyes heavy on me.— Like it? — Sami asks, watching the glass.— It’s the worst wine I’ve ever had. Tastes like iron. If that’s what you serve here… you won’t last long in this city.Neither of them answers. Their silence is answer enough.— I don’t want to work here anymore — I go on. — Tomorrow I’m going to the police and filing a…— It won’t matter. — Cael cuts me off, his voice low, sharp, dominating the air. — This is above the police.— Why did that man talk about clans? — My head pounds with questions. — What’s a vicarius?—
I get to Nox late in the afternoon. Samiel asked me to work the night shift — the hours they keep — and even though it doesn’t make much sense, I agreed. For ten times my old salary, I’d work upside down if they asked me to.The spreadsheets that now live in the system are so precise, so polished, that all I can do is comb through them line by line. Just yesterday, they told me all the accounting was done by hand. Now it’s all here, perfectly entered into their software. Perfect. Too perfect.Strange, like everything else around here.It’s already night when I step into the game room. Tonight it’s fuller than usual — maybe a few handpicked clients invited upstairs. Sami and Cael are locked in a game of pool, the sofas packed, bodies swaying with glasses in hand.— I need one of you to show me the invoices for drinks… and everything else… so I can log it all into the system.Neither of them looks at me, their attention fixed on the table.— Eryon can help you with that. — Sami says.I
In daylight, Nox Trium looks nothing like itself.The solid black front of the building isn’t imposing at all, and the dead blue neon sign barely even catches the eye of anyone walking by. Just another three-story building in the urban jungle.It’s late in the day. The sky outside is pink and orange, but no one seems to care — inside, the lights are on, windows and doors sealed tight.The bouncer leads me to the office, and a shiver runs through me when I remember how recently I’d been there, passed out on that sofa — tended to for a gunshot I’m not even sure I really took, by a man with the voice of an angel and the kind of sinful beauty that tastes like strawberries and trouble.When the door opens again, it’s Samiel who steps in. A smile stretched ear to ear.— You actually came. — That dreamlike voice fills my ears.— You said I had to, if I wanted answers.I still need to know if I really was shot or… if I just need a psychiatrist. Because how could I have healed so fast?— I thi