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PROLOGUE
WYATT
Itear my bloody shirt over my head and throw it on the couch in the middle of the office I share with my best friend.
What a fucking night.
Bishop collapses into the seat next to my shirt and runs a hand through his messy blonde hair restlessly. His green eyes that normally sparkle with mischief are cold and devoid of their normal character. This shit is starting to weigh on all of us.
Our partnership was only ever meant to be in extreme circumstances, but we didn’t expect shit to start getting as messy as it has the last few months, and now they need our help more often than not.
It’s not easy being the mediator for the five families, and while they managed it on their own for a long time, the day we came to an agreement and started helping them in the shadows, I swear Crew immediately started sleeping better.
That man leads the underbelly of this city with ease, but I’m pretty sure he started breathing a little easier when he and his men had more help and some neutral territory to meet on.
“Well, that was fucked.” Kaos leans against the wall, his hands covered in cuts and bruises. The scars littering his skin are on display despite his usual efforts to cover them. He towers over the rest of us even when he’s not standing up straight. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen his dark eyes as dejected as they are right now. Flecks of blood and God knows what else are speckled through his dark hair. Tonight was messy.
“I’ve never seen anything like that.” Elias, my best friend, falls into the seat behind his desk, shoving his dark hair from his eyes. “Who the fuck brought those girls into the city? And how did you not have any idea it was happening?” He turns his dark eyes to Crew as he strolls into the room, the only one of us with his suit still pristine.
His mismatched eyes turn to each of us as if we hold the answers, but we’re all just as stumped as one another. He runs his fingers through his copper hair just the way his son had when he came in. They may not look alike, but their mannerisms are almost identical if you watch them closely enough.
“Fuck if I know.” He sighs. “But we’ll get to the bottom of it. If any of the five families think they’re going to start trafficking in our city, they have another thing coming, and they will quickly be removed from their roles.”
“And this earth,” Kaos mutters.
The Legion has kept the skin trade out of New York since they took over ten years ago, but it seems there’s someone new on the scene who has other plans.
CHAPTERONE
ELIAS
Halloween has always been a big night at The Scarlet Lounge. It’s just another excuse for the subs to attract a Dom for the night, and the Doms to find a nice little subbie to enjoy. It’s always been one of my favorite nights of the year.
The costumes, the palpable tension in the air, the extra kinky scenes. It all culminates into one big, irresistible package, but this year feels different. Almost as if something is missing.
Even as Wyatt and I put the final touches on the event, making sure our members get the exclusive experience they pay big money for, the anticipation I’ve felt for the last ten Halloweens, since we bought the place, just isn’t there.
It’s one of the rare nights we allow the outside world in, but the only way you know this place exists is by knowing a member, so we don’t tend to see too many unfamiliar faces. It’s also one of the rare nights we have all our members in, almost all of them making themselves available for their favorite event of the year.
Wyatt eyes me curiously as I approach him, probably sensing my mood. We’ve been friends, brothers even, for so many years we may as well be the same person. We live together, eat together, work together, and for the most part, fuck together.
That’s our thing, our kink some may say. We love to share. There’s nothing better than dealing out double the pleasure, and if the mood strikes us, double the pain, to a willing sub.
But it’s been a while since someone has piqued our interest. Perhaps that’s why I’m feeling so bored on my favorite night of the year.
“You look like you’d rather be anywhere but here,” Wyatt comments, his blue eyes watching me closely. His lean body is covered by a superhero costume, a character I vaguely remember from a movie he made me see with him last year. I barely stop myself from rolling my eyes. He’s the carefree one, the one who laughs off every problem we come across. It seems fitting that he dresses like this for Halloween.
I shrug, leaning against the bar beside him. Abigail, the waitress on duty tonight, saunters toward us, her hips swaying suggestively. All the staff here are members. When we first opened, it was hard to find staff when so many people find the kinds of things that happen here taboo. This policy ensures everyone here knows exactly what’s happening, and there are no misunderstandings about the parameters of their job. Of course no one has a right to touch the staff without their permission, but the subs here are required to show the Dominants a certain level of respect.
“Sirs,” she greets, her eyes lowered respectfully. “Would you like something to drink?”
I take a moment to survey the woman in front of me. She’s worked for us for a few years, and Wyatt and I have scened with her in the past, but it’s as if I’m seeing her for the first time.
Her dark hair is slicked back into a sleek ponytail. Her makeup is dark, and her eyeliner makes her eyes look sharp, like a cat’s. A skintight black spandex suit clings to her shapely frame, and the ensemble is completed with a pair of knee-high leather boots and cat ears perfectly positioned on her head.
“Whiskey please, Abigail.” Wyatt smiles before looking at me. “Make that two.”
She nods once before turning on her heel and heading behind the bar.
