Angel Blood

22- Tell Me (18+)

Hunks of brain matter splatter against Dean's side, blood dribbling down his cheek and caking into his hair. The dead man's body slumps in his chair, the remains of his head making bile rise in my throat.

I stiffen against Sin as Dean wipes a trickle of blood as it threatens to spill into his eye, studying the crimson on his fingers with an odd intensity.

The room is silent for a long and breathless moment. Then with a manic grin, Dean tilts his head back and lets loose a deep bellow of laughter.

A sliver of discontent tightens inside my chest. I curl closer to Sin's chest without even thinking, the steady beat of his heart soothing my unease as it thumps against my shoulder.

"You're a crazy motherfucker," Dean says, teeth bared in an animalistic grin as Sinclair sets the gun on the table within arms-reach. Although I'm not sure if Dean catches on I recognize what it is immediately: a warning. "A man after my own heart."

I glance over to Theo and Oliver, startled to see how calm both of their faces remain. Upon shifting my eyes around I realize it seems like I'm the only one at the table who seems fazed.

A droplet of crimson dribbles down to his lips and he swipes it away with his tongue, smiling crookedly at me as I grimace. "She looks so soft," he mutters, studying me with a new intensity that causes a shiver to run down my spine. "I can see why you'd be tempted to keep her."

At the mention, Sin grabs my chin in his hand and presses his lips to mine. The kiss is hungry and possessive, making my body heat under his touch. It's clear that he's staking his claim on me but judging from the longing look spanned across Dean's face as he pulls away, he doesn't seem to take the bait.

"Do it again," he says, the hunger in his voice making my hand absentmindedly curl closer to the weapon on the table. Both of us refuse to move, watching him reach into his waistband and pull out his gun with wary eyes. "Again. Kiss her. Make her pant against you. I'll give you a few thousand for it."

Something dangerous crosses Sinclair's face. "Pick up your cards. I'll play your games—but not this one."

"You will," he says softly, tapping the barrel against the table so the hollow metal sound taunts our ears. "You will, Black. You need my money. You've always been so willing for it."

Sin scowls. "This is your last warning."

He pauses for a thoughtful moment and then raises the gun in our direction. I stiffen, hand flying to grab my pistol, panic making my movements feel achingly slow.

Another hand beats me to it. I glance at Oliver as he snatches it easily from my reach, training it upon Dean's head. Unlike Sinclair, he's as vulnerable as I am in this game and the risk he just took for me is immeasurable.

"Try it. I dare you." Oliver's finger twitches over the trigger as if he can hardly contain the urge to bury a bullet in Dean's brain.

A small smile stretches over Dean's lips at Oliver's words but he otherwise ignores the threat, studying me with a suspicious amount of enthusiasm. "Why don't you just flip your skirt up for me, honey? We'll call it even."

I choke a little on my words at first. How do you respond to a man asking to see your panties with a deadly weapon trained at your head?

Some small, smart voice in the recesses of my head whispers you don't. You do what the scary man says. You do what it takes to survive.

But then I remember who I am. If I were smart I wouldn't be willingly curled into the arms of an incubus who kills people with the ease of swatting a fly. If I were smart I'd lift my skirt and risk Dean's grabby hands in exchange for my life.

It's tense for a long beat. Sin's arm squeezes my waist so tightly that I have to pant around it to get air in.

Sinclair seems to sense that something's wrong. He leans forward until the warmth of his breath tickles my ear. "Angel," he warns softly.

"Don't be selfish," I murmur to him, gently rubbing at the desperate clutch of his arm. "You can share, can't you?"

He stops breathing. "What?"

I lean over the imposing touch and slowly push down Oliver's gun. Surprisingly, he lets me, watching the movement with suspicious resignation until it clatters back onto the table. I'm sure if I glanced over at Theo, he'd be wearing an expression similar.

I try and stand up but Sin's vise remains unbreakable. I ignore the stiffness of his body around mine, smiling widely at Dean. "Look like this one's not going to let me go."

He looks utterly delighted as he stands up and starts toward me.

"Dean," Sinclair rasps. There's an astonishingly dark note to his voice that sends a chill down my spine. "Sit. Down."

Dean doesn't sit or acknowledge Sinclair's existence. Instead, he strides forward until I can smell the faint waft of his expensive cologne as he stands in front of me. Only a quick glare of warning keeps Oliver seated beside me.

I grin as he waits expectantly in front of me. Before anyone has the chance to sense my hesitation, I grab my gun and aim it at his groin. And I shoot.

Everyone moves at once. Dean lets loose an ear-curdling shout as Oliver stands and wraps his arm around his neck, snatching the gun dangling loosely in his shell-shocked fingers and training it at his head. Sinclair gets up so fast that I nearly fly off his lap before he yanks me to his chest and turns so his back is exposed to the men behind him. Theo steps in front of him.

"Everyone sit down," Oliver says. I hadn't been able to see it, but they must have risen in panic with the rest of us. They falter for a moment before their feet shuffle a bit over the carpet as they resettle themselves. "I won't hesitate to rip his heart out if one of you twitches."

"God fucking dammit," Dean chokes. "You bitch. You fucking bitch."

I let loose a puff of air from my lungs and glance up at Sinclair's carefully blank face. "Please tell me he's not upper-level."

Sin quirks a brow.

Dammit. What I thought would be a fatal shot wound is probably going to be my death sentence when this motherfucker's dick grows back.

"Uh," I call out from behind the wall of Sinclair's body, "maybe rip his heart out? Before he gets to ours first?" Mine in particular?

My eyes narrow as Sinclair's hand wraps over my mouth. "Sit him down," Sin orders.

The sharp hiss of breath tells me Oliver has successfully relocated him in his chair. Only then does Sinclair spin us around and shove me behind Theo's back before stepping forward.

"First," he says, stopping in front of Dean, unable to keep the smug expression off of his face as he watches the blood continue to spread across his gore-ridden pants, "this meeting is over. You've seen her and you've overstepped. You owe me for my time."

Even with a sickly pallor, Dean still manages to shoot him a look so malicious I nearly shudder.

"Second," Sinclair says, plucking the gun from Oliver's hand to force Dean's limp fingers back over the trigger as he forces the receiving end over his own stomach. My chest squeezes suddenly but Sin forces Dean's grip down on the trigger before I can do anything, sending a bullet into the flesh of Sinclair's gut. "You shot me. There, we're even. No bad blood, now get the fuck out."

Deans rasps out a pained chuckle. "Really? We're even, huh? After your little pet just shot my cock off?"

"Be grateful you're not dead," Sin grates out from clenched teeth. "Now fucking leave."

It's a dismissal if I've ever seen one. Sin heads for the door, Theo tucking me in front of him as we fall in step behind.

I lay a hand over where my heart thumps inside my chest as if befuddled with the fact that it still manages to beat. I glance at Theo. "What just happened?"

He gently pats my cheek, the hard look on his face trickling away as he smiles crookedly at me. "Just business."

Just business, huh? Well fuck me. If this isn't out of the ordinary there's no way I'm getting out of this alive.