Envy (Dark Waters Book 1)

Chapter One:

Time. Was it a concept? No. Hundreds of years of being alive meant nothing. From all the years I spent living alone, all I had from it were memories I couldn't forget and days I couldn't ignore. Being forced to be with the mortals—hiding, blending, pretending—took a greater toll on me than my punishment.

I made a mistake; yes, I acknowledged it. Took me years. And hundreds of bottles of whiskey.

Admitting my faults made me realize that mortal life wasn't for me. Humans were small and insignificant. I'd spent ages memorizing their mannerisms. Their quirks. For what? To talk like them? Laugh and joke like them? I wanted to be far from their pitiful way of life and back into the darkness that birthed me.

I only needed to prove it. And the bumbling fool who followed me home from the club would be my ticket.

Or at least a start.

I need this.

"Wait, no, no, no." The fool stumbled into the inner circle I longed to be a part of again. He crashed into the chair on the left, hissing because demon metal hurt. It burned the skin and, if held onto long enough, ripped it clean from the bone. If the man were smart enough, he'd avoid them at all costs. Not that it mattered.

Cradling his hand, the fool looked at me with terrified eyes. "Hey, you said you had a few bottles, and we'd share." He bit his lip. "That'd we'd score some chicks, take 'em home, get fucked up—you said that!"

Keep strong. Don't listen.

"Yes, yes, yes." I hadn't used my Sin power in many years, but it didn't mean I forgot how to lure them in. All I had to do was look into his eyes and see his desires—a nasty little thing. I'd promised him what he wanted to hear. "I did say that, didn't I? Big tits, lots of booze. You were all in."

"Yeah, I was!" he scoffed. "But this?" He gestured around the room, pointing at the seven chairs and the symbols on the floor. His finger trembled as he focused on the statues at the start of the room. Tall, large, and made of obsidian. Him. Her. Our Sire and Mistress of this realm. "Come on, man. Look, if you let me leave, I won't tell anyone—"

I leaned against the seat on the right. My old seat. Oh, how I missed it. Crafted just for me, painted black like my soul. The tint of green was a nice touch, but it'd never been my idea. Yet, it grew on me. Made me envious. "You won't tell anyone, what, hm? That you wanted to go and get high with a random guy you met at the club? Or how have you been thinking about that redhead next door and needed to say hi again?"

His eyes widened. Oh, yeah, I knew that, too. My time away from the Deadly Seven was empty, but I had my powers. It ran through my veins and wouldn't leave, no matter how much I'd bleed—another reason I wanted out of their world. I didn't need to know their every desire when I looked at them. I had respect. And morals.

The fool chuckled nervously. "Look, I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Mhm." I looked at my nails. "I'm sure you don't."

"I just wanted to smoke. And drink," he said.

"Oh, I know." I patted my lips, smiling. "And you did. A lot. Shit." I had to laugh. "Two bottles of Hennesey? Come on, how bad is your liver?"

I was saying things I shouldn't have known. But if you looked at him, it was obvious. Yellow eyes. Dark teeth. And I knew the dry tint to his skin wasn't a gift or makeup. He was sick and put himself here. If anything, bringing him before the Deadly to kill him was a blessing. If not me, he'd done it himself.

"Come on, I—" Coming close to my seat, he pressed his hands together to plead with me, then hissed when it burned. He stumbled back into another chair. He cried out on impact. His whimpering echoed in the room as he tried to find an escape, moving in circles, circles, circles. It made me sick, and I needed him to stop.

He'll be dead soon. Just wait a little more.