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.
CHAPTER 9
“Hey, Sean, I don’t think I can make it in today. I’m really not feeling well, and I don’t want to get anyone sick.”
“No problem, Jessica. We’ve got you covered. Please take whatever time you need.”
“Thanks so much. I feel terrible short-staffing the team.”
“Jessica, you haven’t missed a day of work. We’ve got this. Just feel better, okay?”
“Okay, thank you, Sean. See you later.” Jessica hung up, actually feeling a little sick to her stomach from lying to her boss about being ill, but she really wasn’t up for working today. The lack of sleep and whirlwind romance with Roman had kicked her ass—and heart.
She shuffled into the kitchen to make some breakfast, nothing really sounding good. She settled for making some coffee that would either satiate or stimulate the need for food. Jessica yawned, pulling her hair up into a messy bun, red waves poking out everywhere. She settled into her cozy, pillowy loveseat, tucking the quilt from her gran around her leggings and T-shirt.
“What were you thinking, Jessica? What? Like he was seriously into you? Like he could change your life from shades of gray to a spectrum of bright colors? So stupid.” She had a habit of talking to herself, especially when she felt she needed a reprimand. “Oh yes, it makes perfect sense—the man of your dreams sweeps you off your feet and into the sunset, or sunrise, whatever, just shut up.” She was trying like hell to shift into angry mode, but all she could muster was petulance; her heart was just too broken.
As Jessica sank into the sorrowful frustration she was feeling, she knew she’d be getting a call sooner than later. How did her gran always know? Yep, there she is, she thought as the phone rang.
