RAY
Ilsa hated this, hated every second we were in this club. I thought this is what she wanted, to investigate and follow through. Perhaps it was being disarmed by the bouncer, though I’m not sure what good that knife would’ve done her anyway. There were bound to be more guards upstairs.
When we reached the top of the stairwell, the door opened into a curved balcony overlooking the dance floor. Guess I finally got to see what was so special about the VIP area.
It was something special, all right.
Like recognizes like, and I knew another celestial being when I saw one.
No wonder the bouncer had taken such interest in Ilsa’s choice of silver for a weapon.
Our crime boss sat in a velvety red chair, and although there was another single chair and an empty couch, all the other men in the room stood around him. There was something off about the room’s décor like it was chosen by someone trying too hard to show their financial status. It didn’t match the man sitting in the chair, and my immediate instinct was he had taken ownership by force. Two bouncers flanked each side of him, another two stood in front of the door behind where he sat, and the one behind us closed the door to our exit with a click.
Seven, plus the man in the chair.
If we needed to, it might not be as easy to get out of here in a hurry as I had hoped.
I wondered if his men knew he wasn’t human.
Should I tell Ilsa? She was already weary of me. Would that just set her off further?
Ilsa stood with her arms crossed over her chest. She still radiated authority, and it was exciting to witness. I considered mimicking her pose but realized if we came in here posing like some sort of boyband, it would only appear comical, and I doubted we looked threatening as it was. So I settled for dropping one hip and placing my hands on my waist. Ilsa’s expression—a permanently arched brow—expressed they were somehow wasting her time. I was digging it.
“Who are you?” the man in the chair asked. There was no doubting the authority in his voice—deep and dark without having to raise the volume—it filled the space between us before filtering into our bodies. He wasn’t shouting, he didn’t need to. I bet you could hear that voice even when the club was in full swing, every word he said would pour right into your soul. I hated that I couldn’t see his eyes. Who wore sunglasses inside anyway? What was he hiding?
Something I was sure of—there was power behind those glasses, centuries of power, and a darkness I wasn’t sure even I’d mess with.
Although, that hadn’t stopped me before.
“You first,” Ilsa said. “You dragged us in here.”
He chuckled. “Dragged seems like an exaggeration. I…” he circled his hand in the air, searching for the words, “… invited you without option.”
“Diplomatic,” Ilsa murmured, and credit to her, she didn’t flinch when he slowly removed his sunglasses and danger flashed across his dark eyes. They were so dark, almost black, the pupil nearly indistinguishable from the iris. The sunglasses made sense—the reveal of those eyes would be a hell of an interrogation technique. He didn’t look human even in his human form, his eyes offering a supernatural quality to his appearance. He’d be handsome if he didn’t make my skin crawl.
He looked like fucking evil incarnate, and that was coming from me.
“Emrick,” he said as he stood, placing a hand on his chest. “Please, sit down.”
“I think we’d rather stand.”
He studied Ilsa under his brow before closing the gap between them with a handful of casual strides. Nothing about Emrick said that he was in a hurry, but everything screamed that we were lucky simply to be alive in his presence.
Who the fuck was this guy?
He towered over Ilsa when they stood toe to toe, his chest heaving with every breath as though he was trying to control his patience.
Ilsa didn’t know what he was or the fire she was playing with. How could she?
“Ilsa…” I started.
“Sit!” Emrick barked.
This time, Ilsa flinched before glaring at me as though her reaction was my fault. She eyed Emrick for a beat longer, staking her claim on the floor she stood on before slowly and without dropping his eye contact, moved and sat in the only single chair opposite his.
Emrick waited until I was seated on the couch before he returned to his spot, crossing one ankle over his knee and picking up a glass, swirling the contents while watching us.
When he smiled, it somehow made him look more dangerous.
“Why were you watching my club?” he asked, still looking at the contents of his glass. I got the impression he didn’t deem us worth his time.
I looked at Ilsa for guidance and found none as she was still staring hard at Emrick. “Information,” she said. “Someone tried to kill us, and I thought you might know who.”
“Why would I know that?”
“Because it has to do with the destruction of businesses that’s been going on around here.”