Page 125 of The Devil We Crave
My jaw drops when I see the wrought iron cages that look straight out of a torture chamber hanging down from the ceiling. Each has a beautiful girl or a hot guy dressed in bondage or S&M gear dancing provocatively inside, their athletic bodies undulating to the grinding thud of the music.
My awe-struck, somewhat terrified gaze drifts next to the far end of the room, where a huge, elevated stone dais sits. A huge tableruns the length of it, draped in black with flickering, dripping candles set all over, like where an emperor would preside over an imperial banquet.
In fact, this table actuallyhasan emperor—of sorts—sitting in a massive, honest-to-Godthroneright in the middle of the banquet table, lording over the party like a prince of darkness.
I don’t really know a thing about Adrik Volkov except that he walks around campus like a king andlookslike the kingdom he’d be presiding over is hell itself. He’s tall, built like a professional athlete, and always has a dark, sinister look etched across his model-level brooding face.
Currently, he’s sprawled in his throne dressed all in black with his shirt mostly unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up, displaying a massive swath of terrifying tattoos of skulls, ravens, daggers, and snakes.
Next to him, another lord of darkness lounges in a similar throne: Kirill Tsarenko, who is, no surprise, shirtless, his muscled body and vast black tattoo ink on full display as he brings a bottle of vodka to his lips.
I feel an elbow nudging me, and I pull my attention from Adrik and Kirill to see Wren grinning at me like a maniac.
“Okay, thisisexactlywhat we needed!” she screams at me over the music. “Come on!!”
Well, who am I to argue?
The five of us, even Ari, dive right into the madness of the surging horde of dancers. A girl wearing a black cowl that I’m sure doesn’taccidentallylook like a medieval executioner’shood, dressed in a black latex cocktail dress and shiny black over the knee boots, struts by holding a tray full of neon-green shots.
“Absinthe!” she yells when we all give her the “what the hell is that” look.
Wren shrugs as she turns to us. “Bottoms up, I guess?”
Arianna passes on the absinthe. I almost do too, but when I see Galina snag a glass from the tray, I decide I’m done wearing a seatbelt tonight.
Wren’s right: Idoneed this.
“To us!!” Galina cheers, raising her shot glass.
“And FUCK Achilles,” Wren mutters in my ear so only I can hear. “In the ass, with a rusty claw hammer.”
We raise our shots and gulp them down.
Shit.
That’s…problematically delicious.
So delicious, in fact, that five minutes later, as we’re all rocking out to the DJ’s beats and another hooded cocktail waitress comes by with asecondtray of absinthe, I decide yes, Iwillhave another, thank you.
By the third tray coming my way, I’m having the time of my life.
By the fourth, I’m officially drunk and feelingamazing.
The music starts to hit differently. I can feel every breath of hot air entering my lungs as I raise my arms to the ceiling and throw my head back. The flashing lights and lasers feel like magic, andthat dragon tearing through the wall by the DJ booth seems so fucking real that I shiver and scream whenever I see it.
The sweat glistening on my skin feelsincredible. The way my dress shifts over my body, especially my nipples…
Jesus.
I turn, trying to shake off the downright erotic sensation flickering like tongues over my body. Then I check out how my friends are doing.
Wren has her head tossed back too, her eyes half shut as she twirls, her hands high in the air. Lucia is dancing between two guys I think I recognize from Ouroboros, a glazed, dreamy look on her face.
For a second, I feel a twinge of worry when I see the two big, heavily muscled guys dancing so close on either side of her. But then one of them catches my concerned look and grins. He shakes his head and leans close to me.
“Don’t have to worry aboutus, girl,” he says with a wink. He leans around Lucia to kiss the other guy deeply.
When they pull apart, the second guy turns to me.
