Rage

A golden medal

LIAM

Back in the office, Oliver pours two glasses of wine and hands one to me.

“A toast to our new chapter,” he exclaims, full of excitement.

I don’t feel quite as thrilled. Things may have worked out, but that doesn’t mean much.

I take a sip from my glass, only because Oliver seems to be demanding the formality of it.

“You don’t look very happy,” my friend remarks, sinking back into his chair.

“We did damage control. Great. But I don’t like the idea of working with someone who’s going to get in my way.”

“Come on, man, Evalyn’s more likely to help than hinder. We needed a contact in the police. Now we have more than that. We needed Evalyn on our side, and now we have her too. What’s the big deal?”

“I don’t think Evalyn is just going to let me go around killing all my targets. She’s the kind of person who likes when justice works but still prefers to follow the rules. And there’s the damn bond.”

Oliver shrugs.

“Well, that might be a problem. But you can’t expect perfection in everything, right?”

“I like perfection.”

“As for the targets, all you have to do is get to them before she can stop you. Might be a bit of a headache later, but it’s manageable. And about the bond, well…” he tilts his head to the side, sighs, and takes another sip of wine. “It’s hard doing this kind of work next to someone you’ll want to screw all the time, but hey, that’s something you two can sort out.”

I raise an eyebrow at him.

“How?”

“By screwing. Just… getting the s****l tension out of the way at specific moments so it doesn’t interfere with your work.”

Unbelievable.

“You really think we’ll give in to this bond?” I ask, incredulous.

“I think you’ll resist. But sooner or later, you’re going to cave. Partnership bonds are too strong. The longer you’re around each other, the harder it’ll be to resist. So why not take the path of least resistance and get it over with?”

Sometimes, Oliver’s pragmatism is infuriating. He acts like everything is wonderfully simple.

“I don’t think Evalyn will want that. We’re way too different.” She still believes the world can be fixed. I’ve moved past that. “Besides, I can’t lose focus on my goal.” If I let that happen, if I allow myself to feel more for her than I should... I lose the only advantage I have left.

Oliver swirls the wine in his glass in slow, lazy circles. He looks at me with his head tilted and his eyes half-closed.

“Listen to your old friend Oliver, my man. You two are going to end up together sooner or later. And it’s better if it’s sooner. It’ll be better for everyone.”

“Including you?”

“Especially me. I won’t have to deal with the s****l tension oozing out of you both all the time. So just get it over with. Do it before one of you kills the other… or worse, falls in love.”

“You’re terrible at giving advice.”

“I’m amazing. You’re just stubborn.”

I sigh and take a big sip of wine.

“I’m your Beta, remember?” he says, leaning forward. “I’m your advisor, your lawyer, and much more. You know following my advice is your best bet. Remember last time? When you forgot to use the magic essence before killing Vanderbilt’s security guards? I suggested we get you an alibi. We got one. And now, we dodged a charge and landed ourselves a partner to help.”

I hate to admit it, but he’s right. If we hadn’t secured that alibi, we could be in serious trouble right now.

I remember the day it all happened and how it happened. Before I found out Evalyn was my partner. Today, I don’t think I’d be able to do what I did that day.

ONE WEEK AGO

NIGHT OF BENEDICT VANDERBILT’S MURDER

I twirl the small knife between the fingers of my right hand. My left hand holds a delicate glass of white wine, the drink nearly untouched.

I glance around the vast hall, where a crowd of mystical beings draped in shimmering clothes and expensive perfumes glides effortlessly. Giggles, classical music, and the clink of crystal fill the atmosphere.

No one has the slightest idea what happened tonight.

If everything goes well (which, at this point, I seriously doubt), they’ll find out by midday tomorrow. Right before the hangover fully sets in.

“Can you put that s**t away?” Oliver whispers next to me, hiding all his tension behind the same plastic, charming smile as always. “You look like you’re picking your next prey.”

“Aren’t we?”

“Not like that, your dumbass.”

“f**k you,” I whisper back, offering a light, equally fake smile, like we’re sharing a funny inside joke.

“Soon,” my friend replies, winking at a woman across the room.

“Who is she?”

“Jealous?”

“Cautious.”

“Oh, now you’ve decided caution matters?” he teases, taking a sip from his own glass of wine.

Oliver keeps his eyes on the woman. His large irises, a clear crystalline green like twin pools, show interest and desire as he continues speaking to me.

“She’s Victoria Winters, as you should know. Water nymph. Daughter of Sylvia Winters, COO of Winters Pharmaceuticals. Not too famous, rich enough. Perfect alibi. Exactly what we need after the s**t you pulled tonight.”

“You going to keep rubbing that in my face?”

“For the next five to ten years, mate.” His smile is turning softer, more seductive.

In response, Victoria steps closer with casual movements, like she’s only after a glass of wine one of the waiters is carrying. Her appearance seems to ripple, like the surface of a lake.

It’s a kind of mating dance Oliver knows very well.

Too well.

“She’s had her eyes on you all night, but since you seem more interested in that little toy of yours, she decided to invest in me instead.”

“You’re seriously bragging about being the consolation prize?”

“I’m tired tonight. The consolation prize is an easier role to play.” He sets his glass on a nearby table, breaks eye contact with Victoria for a moment, and looks straight at me. “By the way, why haven’t you picked anyone yet?”

“Let’s say I’m already feeling satisfied.” I answer, giving the knife one final spin before sliding it smoothly into the sheath strapped to my forearm.

Oliver shakes his head. “Sometimes you seem so psycho…”

“Thanks.”

“Want a suggestion?”

“No.”

“Gallery, to the right. Nathalie Ashworth. Spent the first half of the night admiring you, then the time we were gone dreaming about you, and now looks ready to throw her shoe at your head just to get your attention.” He narrows his eyes. “She really seems like the type who would do that.”

“Good to know.”

“If you spend some quality time with her tonight, I’m sure she’ll be happy to tell everyone she spent the night with you. We need an alibi, dude. Especially tonight. Just go ahead. Do your f*****g part.”

He lifts his gaze and looks at me again, dark eyebrows forming a silent question. I hold his gaze and down the wine in a single gulp.

My friend simply nods and walks off, adjusting his bowtie and heading gracefully toward Victoria, his alibi for the evening.

As for me, I turn my attention to the gallery, where Nathalie stares at me with an impatient, hungry look. The desire in her eyes sends a shiver of revulsion down my spine.

She looks at me like she already owns me. There’s no love there, not even real desire. Just hunger. A mirror of what I once was. And maybe still am.

But that’s how most people look at me, right? Like the words “slept with Liam Havoc” are a heavy gold medal to earn, hang around their necks, and show off with pride.

Would Evalyn look at me that way too, like a trophy to be claimed?

I hope not.

But some darker part of me wants to find out.

I down another glass of wine before walking toward Nathalie.

***

As I approach Nathalie Ashworth, I understand why my friend suggested her as my alibi.

Nathalie is a star elf, the kind that turns heads even when she’s not trying, and does so effortlessly. There’s a natural magnetism about her, an inherent sensuality, and a self-confidence that makes her seem like an unattainable dream.

People around her admire, revere, and desire her from afar, hoping to catch her attention, to prove themselves worthy of even a glance.

Her brown eyes gleam with fierce intelligence. Her unadorned curls frame her face and flow down her elegant neck. Her short, curvy figure elevates the dark blue dress she’s wearing, turning it into something stunning. It’s like the night sky wrapped around her and she’s the star within it.

She knows what this moment means, and she doesn’t seem to care. She might even enjoy the idea of being chosen by a monster. Just to prove she can.

Truth is, in another life, we could have been great lovers. We could’ve shared something filled with claws, teeth, and passion.

But in this life, I have a fated partner out there somewhere, and I’ll meet her in just a few days.

And right now, I need an alibi that everyone will see. And Nathalie needs a gold medal.

***

“A fish collection. That’s very different from what I expected from you,” Nathalie says, trailing her perfectly manicured fingers along the glass of the aquariums. Her high heels brush the carpet as she stares with interest at the fish Oliver compulsively collects.

I, on the other hand, admire her from across the room. Every step she takes increases my urge to taste every inch of that polished skin. Slowly.

Would I feel the same if I’d already met Evalyn that day?

“I thought you’d be more into the knife and sword collection.”

“But…” Nathalie prompts.

“But I figured it might take some of your attention away from me.”

“Must be quite the knife and sword collection then.” Nathalie turns to me, tilting her head. “But if you wanted all my attention so badly, why’d you bring me here, Havoc?”

“There are some things that need to be clear between us before we begin.”

She leans her hips against one of the tables. Lifts her chin, eyes peeking at me from under dark lashes. “Let me guess. You don’t make love. You fuck.”

The sarcasm in her soft voice pulls a small, genuine smile from me. s**t. I’m starting to like her more than I planned.

I keep my eyes on her face, admiring the way her dark skin catches the room’s dim light. She has a glow of her own. I can feel the desire for her rising in my core.

I speak softly. “You may not touch me.”

Nathalie doesn’t look surprised. “So the rumors about you are true.”

“Is that going to be a problem for you?”

“I’m not used to obeying.”

“You’re not used to taking orders, in any form.” I counter. “How about being convinced?”

“You can try.”

I walk toward her, keeping my eyes locked on hers, and stop less than a meter away. Her scent is soft and captivating: citrusy, floral, and bright all at once.

I place my hands gently on her shoulders and run my fingertips down her arms, watching her skin react to my touch. Nathalie takes a deep, slow breath.

Would it have been different if I’d already met Evalyn? Would she shiver like this under my touch too?

I bring my lips close to Nathalie’s ear and whisper in a way that makes her tremble.

“So, let me convince you.”