Lucian by Brooke Sivendra

Author:Brooke Sivendra [Sivendra, Brooke]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Brooke Sivendra

15

Eric

The tip of the needle pressed into his skin and a sharp sting followed before it disappeared under the flesh, piercing through his vein. Eric moaned, feeling a rush of power as she pushed the plunger in, injecting the blood. Petra had good, steady hands . . . hands that were skilled in more ways than one. Eric closed his eyes, letting his head rest against the oversized couch cushion. The world came alive. He felt his blood pulsating through his veins, tingling. His body was still, but he felt like he was dancing to the music.

Petra pulled out the needle and then climbed onto his lap. “Are you okay?”

He opened his eyes, smirking. She was a devil of a thing. He wrapped one arm around her waist and his mouth came crashing down on hers. “I think you know exactly how I am. You know how this makes me . . .” He bit her lip, and she squealed. A squeal he quickly silenced.

“Now?” she asked, looking around the room, her eyes passing over their companions.

“Later,” Eric said. Later, he would have her every way he wanted. And there were many.

Eric, mindful of the time, looked around the room, catching the eye of one of his bodyguards. Frankie nodded.

“Meet me here after the worship,” Eric said, giving her a nudge to stand.

She drew a line down the center of his chest with her finger. “I’ll be waiting.” She bit her lip before turning her back to him. Eric watched her ass sway as she walked out.

“They’re waiting for you,” Frankie said.

“I’m ready,” Eric replied. Worship had made for some of his favorite nights, and over the years he’d made them more frequent. They were a heady rush of power, and he always wanted more. He always had.

Eric followed Frankie toward the door, watching as he swung the large painting to the side, revealing the door. Eric stepped through the cutout in the wall, and then straightened the frame, making sure it hung even before he left. He hated when things weren’t properly aligned.

Eric’s body hummed to the music, and he was moving and increasing the oxygen to his blood, the magic of the alchemy kicked in. He felt weightless. He felt like a god.

Eric’s eyes looked over the table, and then to Frankie. “Where is it?”

Frankie frowned. “Where is what?”

“My Korsa. I left it right here next to the containers,” Eric said, not hiding his agitation.

“The red, leather-bound one, right?”

“Yes!”

“I don’t know. Maybe one of the boys took it down for you,” Frankie said, seeming to grasp for some logical excuse. “Here is mine, use this.” He pulled out a green Korsa.

Eric snatched it from his hands. “I always use the same one for worship. Find out who took it—and kill them.”

“Yes, Christos,” Frankie said. “I’ll make sure it’s done.”

“Where is my wife?” Eric asked, slipping the Korsa into his back pocket. He followed Frankie toward the door, his steps now fueled with anger.

Who dared to take my Korsa?

“She’s waiting for you in the axial chapel.

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