Chapter One
I have my own inheritance, and I can do what I want.
He rose and dressed quickly, still in the darkness until he stepped into the hall. He was in a rush to find the next toy, and he didn’t see his brother approaching. He knocked into his brother and took a step back as the breath whooshed from him for a moment. He glared at his brother, looking into the distorted mirror that reflected all that he should’ve been, but wasn’t. Like always, he longed to break the mirror, but couldn’t. His brother ran the business, controlled the bulk of the estate, and knew his darkest secrets, so he couldn’t afford to destroy him. Yet.
“You all right?” his brother sounded concerned and wore a frown.
He wasn’t buying it. He knew it was an act. Summoning some of his acting talent, he put on a careless smile. “Just fine, brother.”
“Are you sure? You’re pale and sweating.”
“I just need…” Blood. “Coffee.”
For a second, his brother seemed poised to keep him from going down the landing and leaving, but then he stepped aside with a sigh. “Be careful.”
“Sure.” He didn’t bother to hide his smirk as he moved past. He was almost to the edge of the landing when his brother calling his name made him still. He thought about ignoring him, but relented when his brother said his name again. “Yeah?”
“Did you take your meds?”
He squeezed his fists tight enough to feel the sting of his nails. “I sure did, thanks for asking.” Stop trying to control me!
“Good. That’s good. We both know what happens when you don’t.” There was a hint of threat in his brother’s words.
He just nodded before rushing down the stairs and out of the house. He retrieved his Ferrari and drove like the demons he didn’t believe in were hounding him every step of the way.
No, not hounding. Just encouraging. They were hungry for bloodshed too.
* * *
The coffee shopwasn’t too busy, which suited him when he wasn’t hunting. Tonight, when he wanted soft and willing flesh to mold and break, it was disappointing. There were no prospects, except…
“Here’s your coffee,” said the new barista as she placed it before him. She didn’t even glance at him.
She was petite and Asian, though he couldn’t guess which nationality. She reminded him so much of his Japanese pet that he reached for her and almost grabbed a handful of her blue-black hair before common sense reasserted itself. She was back behind the coffee bar a moment later.
That gave him time to regain control and think of a strategy. He glanced around, finding no one else at the few stools arranged in front of the coffee bar. Scooping up his cup and saucer, he moved there from the red couch on which he’d lounged.
She moved closer to him, wearing only a polite smile, but he could imagine how she would grimace with pain. “Is there something wrong with your coffee, sir?”
He shook his head. “No. I’m just looking for conversation.”
Her body language radiated reluctance. “I can’t really take the time to talk.”
He looked around in a dramatic way. “Why? It’s dead in here.”
“Um, company policy.”
He was angry for a moment, squeezing the coffee cup so tightly in his hand that it shattered a second later. Hot liquid spilled over his hand, and he cursed at the distraction.
“Oh, my gosh. Are you all right?” She was feigning concern now as she rushed to the sink before returning with a cold cloth. “I’m so sorry, sir. I guess the cup was defective.”
“Yeah, defective.” He took the cloth and pressed it against the burn, though the pain was actually blissful in its own way. Sometimes, when he couldn’t immediately inflict pain, being on the receiving end could temporarily soothe him.
“Do you need some burn cream or something? I think there’s a first-aid kit…” she trailed off with a wave of her hand toward a white box on the wall behind the bar.
“No, it’s okay.” He handed back the cold cloth and flexed the hand. “Just fine.”
She still looked concerned. “Maybe I should call my manager?”