"Looks can be deceiving."
"Obviously." I let my gaze slide around the room. "Nice place—yours?"
He shook his head. "I am here to prepare you."
I raised an eyebrow. "For what?"
"Sex, of course."
My gaze jumped down his body. "With what?"
"With this." As he spoke, genitalia appeared, dropping down from inside of his body, finding shape and size between his legs. It was like watching a blow-up doll inflate and find form, only weirder.
"Interesting way to deal with the problem of getting kicked in the balls," I noted dryly.
He smiled. As he did so, spines appeared along his cock, flicking upright to reveal pointy ends.
"That," I added bluntly, "isn't coming anywhere near me."
"Yes, it is."
"You try, you die."
"You are here to do as you are told."
"No, I'm here to have sex with Moss. If he hasn't got the equipment to do the deed himself, then that's tough. I'm not fucking a cactus just so he can get his rocks off."
The black creature raised an eyebrow, and I would have sworn there was amusement in his eyes. Then all expression froze as his gaze moved beyond mine, and something inside me quailed.
"Interesting," a voice said from the behind. "You do not fear the creature and the damage it could do."
A cold sensation ran down my spine. For several heartbeats, I couldn't move, could barely even breathe.
I didn't know the voice, but I didn't really need to. Not when his evil seemed to permeate the room, sucking away all the good air, leaving only foul.
The black creature mightn't have induced fear, but the man who stood behind me certainly did.
Because that man was Deshon Starr.
Chapter Eight
I forced my feet to move, to turn around. Close up, Starr appeared even more inoffensive than he had from a distance, A weedy, nerdy type who looked as if he'd be more comfortable behind a desk and a computer rather than being the main power behind one of Melbourne's biggest crime cartels.
It was only when you met his gaze that you began to see the truth. There was no life in his eyes, no humanity. Just an endless arctic expanse of bloodshot blue.
Goose bumps skated across my skin, yet deep inside, recognition twitched. Something about those eyes reminded me of someone. Just who, I couldn't quite remember. Not yet.
And yet, there was no one in my life who caused the reaction Starr had—and surely they would have, no matter what form they were wearing. I mean, the outer layer might change, but the soul inside remained the same. And it was the evil that was this man's soul I could feel.
So why was this happening now, and not when I was with whoever he was in my life?
Did the reason have something to do with what Dia had mentioned earlier—that my so-called puberty was twisting and increasing my talents?
Like I needed that when I already had a drug running around in my system causing havoc.
Starr wasn't alone, and I thankfully averted my gaze. Anything was better than staring at evil incarnate for too long. The second man was Starr's other lieutenant, and Merle was every bit as impressive as he had been from a distance. I looked him up and down then raised an eyebrow. "Now, you I'd be willing to play with. Providing, of course, you have something resembling a regular dick."
The words were barely out of my mouth when his aura hit, every bit as heated and will-withering as Moss's. Sweat beaded my skin and rolled down my back, and the low-down ache of desire became so fierce it was positively painful. His smile was all arrogance.
"If I wanted you, I would have you," he said, voice soft, flat, yet filled with the confidence of a man who always got what he wanted.
And with an aura like that, I guess he always did.
His gaze skidded down my body, and the desire burning the air increased, until it felt like every inch of my skin was being flayed alive. My knees buckled under the pressure, and my butt hit the back of the sofa. It was the only reason I remained upright.
His gaze rose to mine again. "And I think I will."
He began to unbuckle his belt and I wasn't sure if it was anticipation or fear that sent a tingle down my spine. Hell, the sex part didn't worry me, nor did having an audience. It was just him. There was something inherently sick about him, something wholly off-center that made a deep-down part of me shiver away from the thought of having him inside. And yet, that foulness held none of the intensity I'd sensed in Moss. Merle was survivable. I doubted Moss was.
"Merle, put it away," Starr snapped, even though Merle hadn't actually gotten it out yet. Thankfully.
But the force of Merle's aura died at the order, as suddenly as a switch being flicked. There had to be were in his mix.
"Where's Moss?" Starr continued, his gaze not leaving mine even though his question was obviously aimed at the spirit lizard.
"Greeting the new guards. He will be here soon."
My heart leapt at the mention of new guards. Did that mean Rhoan had arrived? God, I hoped so. I needed to see him. Needed to talk to him. Get reassurance and guidance and a great big hug.
"Tell him I wish to see him immediately on his return."
"Yes, sir."
Starr's gaze slid down my body. It wasn't a sexual look, more the sort of look one boxer might give another right before their bout. When his gaze returned to mine, it hinted at recognition, and that was a whole different class of scary.
"Do I know you?"
I resisted the urge to lick suddenly dry lips and shook my head. "Unless you've been up to Sydney recently. I've only been in Melbourne for a few days."
"So why do I feel this sense of familiarity?"
"I can't say, sir."
His thin lips curved into what I presumed was a half-smile—though it very easily could have been a half-sneer. "Respectful to those of obviously greater power. I like that."
Right now, I liked that he liked. Anything was better than him mulling over the fact that he knew me. Because if he knew me, I obviously knew him. And for safety's sake, I had better find out how before he did.
I didn't say anything, and he continued to study me. My stomach turned faster than a washing machine on spin cycle, and was threatening to rise at the slightest provocation. Which was weird, because I'd always figured when I finally confronted the man who had chased me, abused me, injected me with crap, and tried to kill me, I'd feel anger—rage—more than anything else.
But I guess in imagining the whole scene, I'd forgotten one important point—Starr himself. Or rather, the fact that it had taken power, cunning, and sheer, bloody ruthlessness to take and hold control of the cartel.
"Are you from the red pack?"
Oh God… he did suspect. But how? Who was the man behind the mask, who was he in my life?
I forced a casual shrug. "I don't know. My mother was human, and never sure who my father was."
"You have the coloring of the red pack."
"She was Irish. I have her coloring."
"Ah. The offspring of a groupie."
I nodded. Wondered if he believed me. There was no expression on his face, no flicker in his eyes, to indicate whether he did or didn't. Just the emotive swirl of evil sucking the very goodness from the air.
"We should talk some more," he said eventually.
My heart just about stopped. I might want to kill him but I certainly didn't want to talk to him. Not now. Not later. Not anytime.
Even killing him wasn't an option right now, not only because of Merle and the black thing, but because Jack would kill me if I did anything before we'd discovered the location of the final lab.
"Talking is fine with me."
He smiled for real this time. It was the nastiest thing I've ever seen. "As if you even had the choice, my dear." His gaze moved to Merle. "Bring her in for brunch."