“Fuck this. I have to get outta here.” Roman quickly got dressed and left his room. No way did he want to run into anyone he knew, so he left Muse and headed to a neighboring building. Making his way to a private bar, he figured he’d handle this like any other night: gin and fucking some random female. The moment he thought about the possibility of taking someone else to bed, his whole body began to ache, and his stomach churned. “Son of a fucking bitch,” Roman said, grasping his side and swallowing some bile.

“What was that, sir?” the doorman of the club asked.

“Nothing,” Roman replied, slipping him a wad of hundreds.

“Have a nice evening, sir,” the man replied, moving over to let Roman through. He made a beeline for the back of the bar to sit in a semi-private lounge area with a small purple couch and black table. Roman ordered a bottle of gin and sat anxiously bouncing his leg until the server returned. He filled up the highball glass and downed it in three swallows, followed by another.

After the two full glasses, Roman poured a third and leaned back against the couch, finally able to feel some craziness leave his body. He closed his eyes, but Jessica’s face monopolized his imagination.

“Would you like some company?” Roman made slits with his eyes to see a tall woman with champagne-colored hair pulled back into a high and long ponytail wearing a tight, black jumpsuit.

“It’s a free country. Well, for some of you. Do whatever the fuck you want.” He threw back the glass, finishing the drink and poured another.

The woman was undaunted by his rudeness and laughed a bit as she took a seat.

“You seem to be having the opposite of a good time. What could be so terrible in a place so deliciously sinful?”

Roman just harrumphed and took another drink.

“Perhaps it’s your amazing conversational skills that have all the women lined up, ready for a turn,” she practically purred, and Roman thought he was going to vomit.

“I don’t care if you sit there. I don’t want to talk.”

“How about I buy us some drinks? I’m not much of a gin drinker myself.” She motioned to the bar with a little nod and circled her finger in the air for another round of whatever she was drinking. When the drinks arrived, Roman took his in one shot, barely tasting whatever the hell it was.

“See, that wasn’t so bad. I’m not so terrible when you get to know me.” She moved a little closer to Roman who decided he was actually starting to feel even worse than before if that was possible.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re a real gem. Look, thanks for the drink. I’m heading out.” Roman shook his head a little, realizing he might have pushed the limits of his tolerance.

“But we’re having such a nice time,” she said as she placed a hand on his knee.

Now Roman was sure he was going to retch and preferred the bathroom for that event. He went to stand up but couldn’t feel his hands as he tried to push off the couch.

“What?” he said to himself. When he tried to get up again, his body would not comply with the commands from his brain. “Whattthefucckk,” he slurred as he made a last effort to hurl himself off the couch, but succeeded in falling flat on the table, breaking his glass, immobile but still conscious.

The woman, who didn’t seem surprised in the least, stood up without the languid motion she had been carrying herself in since approaching Roman. Her demeanor snapped from sultry temptress to high-powered boss bitch within moments.

She touched her finger to her ear and said, “The package is ready for shipment.”

From behind the bar, a team of human soldiers came quietly out, attracting very little attention, and moved Roman’s body to the ground behind the couch. They secured Roman’s hands and feet while fastening a leather and metal mask around his face.

One of the soldiers gave him a hard kick in the ribs and then injected him with some kind of serum before dragging him out of the bar through an unmarked, hidden door… and everything went black.

CHAPTER 8

The end of a session was always bittersweet for Xavier. On one hand, he’d effectively exorcised some demons. On the other, as soon as it was over, it was like everything that had left his mind for a few hours came rushing back, ready to start squeezing him all over again.

When he needed to shut off the world for a while, being strapped into an X-cross—one equipped to actually restrain him—was his go-to. The dominatrix Xavier had this time didn’t hold back; he’d said, “Don’t stop until you draw blood… and then keep going,” and she listened.

One of the highlights of this visit was the dominatrix’s use of the whips; she’d crack it and hit or not hit him at random, so he’d hear the sound and wouldn’t know if it was going to land or not. It was a detail he’d be requesting from now on. When she had realized that her normal whip wasn’t going to have the desired effect, she switched to something with spiked tails, and Xavier’s pain and subsequent pleasure were intensified.

Xavier was holding onto the session in his mind for as long as possible as he let the hot water of his shower run over him. His wounds had closed and healed, but his backside was still tender enough that that water slightly stung for just a little longer. He cursed his body for the quick healing as the sting faded away.

And here it all comes, he thought as the unwanted shit filtered back into the forefront of his mind. He sighed and sat down on the shower bench, holding his head in his hands, his brown hair hanging around in clumpy, wet chunks. Xavier was constantly watching, assessing, and analyzing everyone’s behavior. Lucem Diem was getting increasingly stronger and at any moment, it felt like a trusted fighter could become a liability.

But he’d never thought that could end up being Roman. The fuck is up with that guy lately? That shit with Vance over a human—careful Xavier, vamps in glass houses and all that shit—the scene with Arabella? Xavier knew there was no love lost between them, but Roman’s typical aloof and indifferent behavior toward her had evaporated.

After the uncharacteristic scenes he’d witnessed, he had decided to follow Roman. Something was off with that guy. He’d been acting strange since the mission, and Xavier was like a dog with a bone. As much as he wanted to just leave everyone to their own devices, it was impossible for him to ignore, especially when he had a bad feeling about something.

Xavier had been standing across the street from some apartment building he followed Roman too, smoking a joint while leaning against a wall. He had always been comfortable in the shadows and even with his six-foot-five jacked frame, if he wanted to disappear he could. Except that Roman should have spotted him. Roman should have noticed he was being followed. Roman was becoming a liability.

It was maybe 20 minutes later when Roman came back out—cozied up with some human, probably the one Roman lost his shit over, looking quite a bit more than some random fuck situation. Xavier was about to secure a car and continue following them, but decided Roman could just go ahead and blow up his life. He was a grown-ass vampire and free to fuck his life up as he chose. But he had a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Fuck this shit,” he said, finishing the joint, and headed to the place where they knew him and his preferences.

Xavier finished his shower with a growing sense of unease. Fuckin’ Roman, I need another session with Mistress Belladonna, and he’s gonna pay for it.

When he finished dressing in his standard uniform of tight jeans, black T-Shirt, and black, leather jacket with studs and buckles, he went down to the breakfast buffet at Muse to let Roman know what he owed him and share a meal with the other dickheads—albeit dickheads who were also his closest brothers.

“Hey, Xavier, you made it. We thought maybe you and Roman were suckin’ each other off somewhere,” Vance said and then stuffed his mouth full of scrambled eggs.

Xavier surveyed the table, everyone was present except Roman.

“Roman’s not here yet? Anyone text him?”

“Yeah, I sent him a reminder about thirty minutes ago, same one I sent you,” Ashford said.

Xavier didn’t like this. Roman was the king of punctuality and frequently scolded anyone who was late; usually, that was Vance. Xavier pulled out his phone and called Roman, turning away from the table. When he didn’t answer, he stared at his phone for a moment and pulled up the location-sharing app they each had which showed Roman, or his phone at least, was still in his suite.

“Looks like the fucker overslept,” Xavier mumbled although that idea didn’t sit right with him, not at all.

“Overslept?” Ashford said with the same disbelief Xavier was feeling.

“I’ll go get him.” Xavier took off without waiting for further commentary. He arrived within a few minutes outside Roman’s suite, banging on the door.

“Roman? Hey! Roman! Open this fucking door!” Xavier was pounding on the door and received some strange looks from guests peeking out their doors. “Are you fucks Roman? No? Then mind your own goddamn business!” Everyone quickly popped their heads back into their rooms to do just that.

Xavier did a little more pounding and yelling before he decided to take it up a notch. “Fuck this,” he said as he kicked the door in.

Immediately, Xavier realized something was wrong. He saw the broken glass scattered around the room and the chair that looked like someone tried to break the window with it. The wine that was flung around the kitchen area looked like blood splatter, and even though Xavier knew it wasn’t, it still provided an unsettling atmosphere in the room.

“Roman!” Xavier called again as he checked the bathroom, finding the broken mirror. When he came closer to the couch, he got an intense whiff of a human woman. “Gotcha, bitch,” he said, feeling as though he located the evidence he needed to put all the pieces together. Whatever happened to Roman, this woman was the key to finding him.

He whipped his phone out. “Ash, is everyone still there? Great. Roman’s missing, but I know where to find him. I’m sending the address. Meet me there.” He hung up the phone and stormed out of the room, pushing through a small, gathering crowd. “Get the fuck outta my way!”

Xavier was seething and seeing red. Fuckin’ Roman! How did you get into this shit? I’ll kill you myself when I find you, brother, right after I rip this bitch’s head off.