Luxure - The Cardinal Brotherhood Book One Page 2

  After I lost Abiteth, my existence became worthless. I was an outlaw, wounded and stranded in the Uitare for two hundred and fifty years. The healing process was slow as the poison from the blade kept the wound open—the sensation of burning becoming a constant in my life until I was able to return to Earth and heal properly. I didn’t need food or water to survive, but I consumed them just to pass the time. I didn’t need anything. I’m immortal whether I want to be or not, and only Lucifer himself can kill me.

  When I finally emerged from the cave, I was lucky enough to befriend the Masuulka who recognized my despair and took pity on me. One, in particular, Selma, took a shine to me. Over the years, she has become my best friend and confidante, but I know she wants more. She’s been patient more than any human could ever comprehend. She’s waited almost a thousand years for me to make her mine, and as much as I hate to hurt her in any way, I can’t take that step with her or with anyone. Losing Abiteth was the worst moment of my life, and I could never replace her. I could never betray what we had and give myself completely to another being, even one as gentle and beautiful as Selma. The Masuulka aren’t demons, they aren’t cold and evil like me. They are more akin to angels, quiet souls who live only to guard Uitare. They are fierce warriors and could strike down any demon with ease, but unless war breaks out on this spiritual plane, they live in harmony. Peaceful and silent, communicating through thought alone. Thankfully, I possess that ability to lure humans into my sinful schemes.

  The Masuulka live and work together as a family. I used to have that. My brothers and I were always close throughout the centuries championing each other’s victories and enjoying the spoils of walking the Earth as gods of our given sins. I used to tag team with them on occasion enjoying how our combined skills and powers of persuasion could complement and enhance the thrill. Taking a sweet pastor’s daughter and fucking her while she goes down on one of my brothers was always a favorite of mine. I shared everything with them until I met Abi. She was the one woman I wouldn’t share, except with my brother, Colère, or Cole for short. You know him as Wrath. On the rare occasions that Abi wanted something darker and dirtier than I alone could give her, I would allow Cole to join us. I would have given her anything she asked of me, and even though it broke my heart to see her with him at times, the joy she found in pleasing us both at once outweighed my reservations.

  It took two hundred and fifty years for Lucifer and the Vollstrecker to stop searching both the Underworld and Earth for me. The only place I was safe was in Uitare. Very few demons can survive for any length of time there losing their mind to the silence. There are even fewer who can to jump as fast and as frequently as I can. The Brotherhood perfected the talent over thousands of years. I, alone, could freeze time around me, but that is a talent I have lost with the loss of my brothers. Their strength fueled me enhancing my capabilities beyond anything any other demon could achieve.

  When I got word that everyone thought I was dead and the search had been called off, I decided it was safe to start journeying to Earth for short periods of time. Almost three hundred years without a good fuck was a hard pill to swallow for me. Sure, I found willing bodies in the shape of the Masuulka. They had never been around such a sexual being, both male and female alike flocked to me drawn to the essence of pure concentrated lust that my body encapsulates. I’d be doing them a disservice if I said I hadn’t had my share of fun, but fuck me, I missed the raw, desperate, clawing desire of a soft, pliable, warm-blooded female human being. They are by far the most appreciative of any species, and the way they cream around my cock is out of this fucking world. No other being does that. As much as I loved fucking Abi with everything I had and every ounce of love I felt for her, her body never reacted to me in that way. The Masuulka are cold like granite, and no matter how turned on they get, they don’t sweat, they don’t get breathless and boneless and go limp in your arms after an intense climax.

  Since I decided to straddle both planes seven hundred and fifty years ago, my life has become… comfortable—not exciting, or amazing, or even worthwhile in any way. It’s comfortable, and I fucking hate comfortable. So, I decided to start seducing more prominent figures giving myself more of a challenge finding the strong-willed, the religious, and the sanctimonious, and taking them down, one by one. Last week it was a handful of devout nuns from the same convent—each more boring and inexperienced than the last, and quite frankly, ugly to look at. But the thrill didn’t come from their skill or lack thereof, it came from one thing and one thing only—a big flip of the bird to the Almighty. He thinks he’s so fucking special! What gives him the right to ask people to live like that? To give up everything which makes a human existence extraordinary? Lucifer always warned me to stay away from creating a stir and drawing attention to myself. He would shit his pants at the repercussions that could come his way. He likes to act tough, but I was his right-hand man for thousands of years. I know he’s a cowardly son of a bitch when it comes to his nemesis.

  Today, I’m out scouting for a new target. The streets of San Francisco are full of unsuspecting humans going about their day unaware that one of them will be my next lucky victim. I blend into the crowd letting people see me as one of them—a short, balding businessman in a cheap suit caught up in the rat race like everyone else. If they saw me as I am, I would attract too much attention. I could never slip under the radar undetected. As I take in the sights and sounds around me, I think about how much this city has changed over the years. I remember when it was just untouched land as far as the eye could see, and now it’s a bustling metropolis. I always come back here—it’s one of the few places I feel ‘at home,’ if you can call it that.

  I bought an apartment here fifty years ago under the guise of one of my many aliases. One of the other perks of being able to read people and infiltrate their lives—rich guys talk. I’ve got more money than I know what to do with, but my penthouse apartment is one of the few things I spent a lot of money on, and it was worth it. Unfortunately, I don’t stay very long, because if anyone from the other realms found out that I’m still alive, they would more than likely track me down under cover of darkness. Instead, I spend my days here when I’m in town, and then I head back to Uitare and Selma.

  The air is crisp today. Winter is coming, and a light mist has settled over the Golden Gate Bridge. I love days like this when there’s a bite in the cold air… not enough to hurt, but just enough to make you feel alive… if that’s what I am. I make my way through the crowds until I spot a couple heading in the direction of the University campus. She looks so in love as she gazes up into his eyes, but him, he’s hiding something. It’s enough to pique my interest, and I decide I’m going to follow them and figure out a way to have some fun today. As we get closer to campus, I change my appearance to blend in—twenty years old with some scruff and a face just cute enough to catch a girl’s eye but not enough to draw attention. I’ve watched body language for centuries—it’s an art form. Everyone around me is an open book. I’m surrounded by the traits my brothers and I embody most. College is a perfect melting pot for every sin imaginable. The lust of a nineteen-year-old boy is probably the most powerful emotion he will feel in his entire life. Raging hormones, no parents to control them—they are an easy target for someone like me. None of them understand what they have when they have it. They cheat and lie to get as much tail as they can, and when they figure out that it’s not worth it… the right kind of girl is so far beyond their reach, it’s laughable.

  And as boys exhibit the worst of themselves, they fuel the worst and most common saying among women. It’s said as a joke, but it’s buried in centuries of truth—‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.’ My brother, Cole, has magnified this deep-seated insecurity in women and turned it into the ultimate weapon of wrath. There is no better age to instill this than the college years. Girls’ souls are so beautiful—so innocent and hopeful when they are young. They dream of prince charming and pretty white dresses, white picket fenc
es, and babies. It’s almost sad to see every last one of those expectations dashed by every schmuck who breaks their heart and cheats on them with a girl that doesn’t come close to their beauty. It makes them question everything. The most beautiful women in the world suffer from the most intense and crushing self-doubt… and why? Because some trumped-up little asshole couldn’t keep it in his pants in college and treated them badly.

  Greed and Gluttony are two of the easiest sins to amplify. The human race has become so consumed by consumerism—my brothers haven’t had to work for the past century at least. When they created television and advertisements, human nature took over, and everyone wanted more, wanted the next new thing. Nothing is ever enough. They want more… more… more. My brothers have always been a tag team throughout the ages—twin brothers that thrive off each other’s energy. There was a time when I loved nothing more than to spend time with them. They were the life and soul of every party—fuck, they are the party—loved by every aristocracy in history and known by every person of influence, money, and fame. They go by many names, many faces, but the results are always the same. To me, they will always be my baby brothers, Gier and Craos, or Cray, as he likes to be called. I miss them when I allow myself a moment to remember. The last time I heard anything about their whereabouts was a hundred and ten years ago when they single handedly built the town now known as the excess capital of the world—Las Vegas. I don’t keep tabs on my brothers. If I track them, it means they can sense me, and I can’t risk that. The only reason I know where they are now is because of Selma. She hears things from time to time and lets me know if any of them are involved.

  I think of them often wondering what they are doing, if they are okay, if Luc has tried to go after any of them. I wonder how they took the news of my death, and if they felt I betrayed The Brotherhood in my vain attempt to defend Abiteth. It was never my intention to put my love for her above our family, but I couldn’t sit back and let her die for something she didn’t do without putting up a fight. If only I’d been strong enough to save her.

  I’m pulled back to the present when the couple I’ve been following turn and say their goodbyes before heading in opposite directions after planning to meet later for drinks. I didn’t even realize I had followed them into one of the campus buildings during my moment of nostalgia. I decide to follow the boy. As cute as the girl is, she would be too hard to corrupt. She’s got that love-struck innocence about her. I wouldn’t be a good enough reason for her to betray her boyfriend—not yet anyway.

  The boy does what I suspect he’ll do. Within seconds of his ladylove being out of sight, he takes his phone from his pocket and calls girl number two. So fucking predictable. She’s going to meet him in their anthropology class and duck out for a quickie in the storage closet after class. Really? Could they be any more of a cliché? BORING! I want to mess with this little punk just to teach him a lesson. The older I get, the more I feel like a big brother to some of these college girls. Don’t get me wrong, I still corrupt a lot of them in the most delicious of ways, but they’re not a challenge anymore, and when I see a girl like this asshole’s girlfriend—who is one of the girls you keep, not discard—I find myself getting a little angry. He’s going to fundamentally change who she is, killing her trust and ability to see the good in everyone around her. So I’ve decided that today is the day I will make him pay for his transgressions. And then I’ll go and console his girlfriend and show her what a real man can make her feel. Sometimes letting your emotions dictate your actions isn’t the best thing for you. I’m going to ruin him, and then give her a night she will never forget!

  As I follow him into the lecture hall, I hear the professor saying hello to each student who enters. Great, one of those people. They know every single person in their class, which makes my job of blending in that much harder. I quickly morph back into the old bald guy from this morning. No one around me will remember the boy I was moments ago. They see what I want them to and forget anything that came before. I think on my feet and head over to the guy I assume is the T.A. I distract him from his paperwork just long enough to mumble something about auditing the class and walk away before he has a chance to ask me any further questions.

  I keep a close eye on my target, watching as he leaps up the stairs to the back of the room with boyish enthusiasm finding the girl from the phone call. She’s hot. Ironically, she’s not as hot as his actual girlfriend. It’s always the way. Men are primal in their stupidity. They always mess around with girls who are uglier than their wife or girlfriend. It’s cheating 1-0-1. They pick someone who offers it on a plate and who is so grateful for the attention, they will keep his dirty little secret.

  He doesn’t even try to hide it in here. He slobbers all over her letting her hands wander down into his pants below the table with no regard for the strangers around them. I have to give her points for depravity. The hustle and bustle of students taking their seats fades into the background, and the noise level drops in an instant. I’ve never seen anything like it. Everyone is mesmerized by the professor who has uttered no more than the simple words, “Good morning, class.” Then I understand why…

  I turn my attention to the front of the room where the melodic tones of her voice emanate. Holy fuck! She is… stunning. I’ve never seen a human being as perfect in their beauty. I’ve been around since Eve, and this woman would outshine the mother of all mankind a thousand times over. Botticelli’s Venus couldn’t hold a candle to her. Aphrodite, herself, would pale in comparison to the exquisite beauty standing before me.

  I’m spellbound.

  I’m beguiled.

  There is something… different about this woman.

  I feel like a boulder has just smashed straight into my chest.

  What the hell was that?

  And why is she staring at me?

  2

  SIRENA

  Do you ever wake up and hope that today is the day that will change your life? I have that same thought every morning, but every day is the same—predictable in its monotonous rhythm. Don’t get me wrong… I love my job. I’m a visiting Professor of Anthropology at the University of San Francisco this year, and I’m in the middle of a book tour for my latest book, The Myths Behind Mythology. I’ve always been fascinated by the development of human culture through the ages, and the myths society creates to justify our existence in this world. It’s strange, though. I’m so fascinated by human interactions, but the reality of my life is that I like to be alone. Every relationship I’ve ever had has ended before it began. I don’t have a ‘type.’ I’m not broken by bad boys or searching for that one ‘Mr. Right’ who doesn’t exist. My problem is entirely different. My problem… is me. I didn’t feel anything for anyone I’ve ever been with. Men, women, both together—I’ve tried it all… and I felt nothing—no love, not even infatuation. I understand animalistic lust and the fulfillment of primal urges, but I don’t seem to possess the primal urge to procreate, to find that elusive ‘soulmate’—the other part of myself who is supposedly roaming the Earth looking for me. It doesn’t make me sad, and it doesn’t make me happy. I’m just… bored of the tedium.

  From the outside looking in, I have it all. I’m attractive, intelligent, I have a great career, and I’m at the top of my field. I also sound conceited, but I’m not. I see the world as it is, and I know my strengths and weaknesses. You don’t get to be where I am in my career at the age of thirty-one if you don’t understand how to maximize what you have and work on those aspects that could drag you down.

  I crave a new challenge in my life, but today isn’t that day. Today I have lectures to give from 9:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m., and then I need to make an appearance at a local art gallery tonight. They had this great idea to do a signing for my book and display some amazing artwork that portrays various characters from mythology. I loved the premise instantly. This will be the bright spot in my week, something that deviates ever so slightly from my normal days.

  I stop at the campus café
to grab my usual coffee—black with two sugars—and sit down with the paper for ten minutes before heading to my classroom. Same old, same old in the news—death, murder, political scandal. But, there’s one picture that catches my eye. A local politician caught in a sex scandal with his intern—his male intern. He has a wife and two beautiful children who will be dragged through the mud with this devastating news. But it’s not the nature of the story that has my attention. These things happen all the time. Every month there is a new politician who is lying and scheming and getting caught. What has me glued to the page… is the man in the background.

  I’ve never seen anyone like him. Striking… as if carved from the finest marble—tall and toned with eyes that pierce my soul through the page. I’m not even sure how to describe his features as I stare at them in black and white. I can’t take my eyes off him. Like I know him somehow, but that’s impossible. I’ve never seen this man before. I would remember.

  A hand on my shoulder shakes me from my daze and back to the bustling coffee shop surrounding me. It’s my T.A., Josh.

  “Hey, boss. Something interesting in the paper today?”

  I quickly close over the pages embarrassed by my strange reaction. “You know San Fran, political scandal on every corner.” It diverts him long enough to gain some composure and gather my bag and laptop.

  “Oh my God! I saw that story on Facebook this morning. His wife was H-O-T!”

  “That was the part you focused on?”

  “You know me. Never pass up the chance to gaze at a pretty face.” He gives me a wink and a smile and just like that, we fall into step together and make our way over to the main building to get ready for my first lecture of the day. Josh is a great T.A., very organized and goes above and beyond to help me in my research, but he’s more than that, he’s become a friend, and for me, those are in short supply.