Her eyes flick to me, volleying between the VIP section and me like she can’t decide where her focus should be, until she grabs the front of my shirt. In a quick twirl, she has my back pinned to her front with her hand resting on my hip. Warmth swallows me in waves as her thumb tucks into the low waist of my trousers.
“How did you find me?” she hisses in my ear, but all I can focus on is the pure warmth radiating from my hip and spreading between my legs. “I’m doing this whether you think I am ready or not.”
I am not a dancer. Performing my final battle is the closest I get to keeping a beat to something, but Delphini is perfectly capable of moving my heated body against hers to match that of those around us. The music changes to something that, while just as high temp, is more sensual. The hand that is not on my hip gently touches my wrist until she has my hand placed on her neck. My fingers trace her pulse and her hold on me grows tighter until I believe she is trying to leave a mark on me.
Her grip lessens slightly, but her lips touch my jaw. The heat of her body on mine makes my skin vibrate, Love’s power seeping to the surface. The markings that cover my body turn slick and tentacles writhe beneath, ready to come out and feast on whatever offerings I have for them. A thin tendril slips free of my trousers and wraps around Delphini’s thumb. A shaky breath breezes over my cheek.
“You aren’t the only one whose body is a temple.”
“Like these fucking leather pants weren’t enough to ruin me?” she taunts.
“If you want me to ruin you, myomphalos, you will have to beg for it.”
“Later,” she promises with another kiss to my jaw. “I’m not leaving without blood.”
My lips brush her neck when I turn my head up towards her. “Then show me you have learned something, wife… And maybe I will reward you.”
It’s as if her hands pull away when her attention moves from me back to the VIPs. Her pelvis is still pressed to mine, her soft stomach moulded to my lower back, but she turns us slightly. A small group of people are leaving the section. My senses focus, and I scan each of their faces as if they could be the man Delphini is hunting tonight. They are a sloppy group, spilling their drinks as they stumble towards the direction I entered the club. The bathrooms. It’s an easy guess what they will be doing in there if Miles is any indication of the crowd she used to be a part of.
My hands itch to take over, to simply kill them for her and get this over with so we can get back to the ship. Those few hours where I couldn’t find her were enough. The stars, the fates, the meddling of an ancient god, whatever has tied our souls together, will stop at nothing until we are one. They do not care that I want to hear her beg, and at this point, I simply hunger for the taste of her on my tongue. We have eternity to bathe in our carnal desires.
But I have to let her do this. She has a promise to keep to our Love, this is her kill, and I shall help her finish this however she needs me to. For many, this first revenge kill is the hardest, but she has already proven more than capable of doing that part.
It’s summoning Love’s power I am worried about. She’s only done it once in training. Will she be able to unleash her anger now that her target is personal?
Or will this be the end of her?
I snap back to attention as we start moving towards the bathrooms. Bodies continue to brush up against mine, but Delphini’s hand on my hip negates it. I can almost forget they are even here with her beside me. They don’t pay us any attention either as we weave through the crush.
My pulse rushes in my ears, like the steady beat of the sea against The Despair in winter. I can’t hear the music any more; all there is is the thrumming of Love’s hunger in my veins. She is going to do this.
I believe in Delphini.
The quiet in the bathroom is more unsettling than the horrible music being played in the club that is trying to bleed through the walls. I quickly take in the room; minimal, sleek black fixtures with as few flat surfaces as possible and two toilet stalls. One with the door open and the other with three pairs of high heels underneath.
We are recreating a scene from one of those horrible mafia movies Ramón likes. It’s an overdone trope in those films, but I guess if it works, it works. Don’t fix something that isn’t broken, as Aiofe tells me every time I make a fuss about the ship or the pocket dimension.
I wait for my directions.
Delphini motions for me to stand by the sinks while she steps into a stall. It doesn’t bother me one bit what we are about to do. I know Ramón would try to sink his claws into me if he knew my human was planning on killing a woman. But if this human hurt something that is mine? She is going to deserve every second of pain that Delphini gives her.
You don’t hurt other women to gain false power over them.
The whole plan is still a mystery to me, so I busy myself by washing my hands. I stare through the mirror at her. Shadowed by the half-closed door, Delphini looks like a harbinger of death wrapped in a blush pink dress. The silky material shines in the artificial light and my thoughts are out of my control again.
They are simply on her. On sliding the hem of that shift up until I can cup her pussy in my hand, feel the centre of her warmth for the first time. How wet she will be for me as I tease her nipples until they ache. Love, the marks I will leave on her skin. The deep, circular bruises from my tentacles, once I place them on her, will never truly fade. I won’t be able to stop the suckers from latching on to her any chance I can get. They will mark her as mine just as Love’s has.
“Leave, I need to pee,” one of the women whines.
Delphini’s eyes meet mine, giving a small signal for me to stay where I am. Two thin white women slip from the stall without even pretending they need to wash their hands. One of them does the truly foul thing of licking her phone screen while the other one snickers.
They don’t even question the half-closed stall door before they stumble out of the bathrooms. I roll my eyes. Bad instincts.
The one left in the stall finishes up and flushes. I step away from the sink and stand in front of the door. There’s no lock, which is smart, I suppose. No club-goers can lock themselves in here to fuck or do something worse with no one able to reach them.
Doesn’t mean I can’t jam the thing closed with my knife. The blade slips between the frame and door above the top hinge, forming a makeshift stopper. She is utterly oblivious to my existence. She sways on her feet as she tries to wash her hands, giggling all the while. Honestly, this is concerning now.
If she dies of blood alcohol poison or shitty designer drugs, I will bring her back from whatever pit she crawls into so myomphaloscan slay her properly.
