The Covenant's Curse

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Club Cain had music pounding out the open door as the bodyguard let in another woman whose body was shown off in skin-tight pants and a shirt that showed off her navel piercing. Her skin was pale, and her blue eyes scanned the nightclub. The nickname for the club was apt, as it was called the club of sin. There were men and women dancing on each other, clothing sticking to them or not quite there at all. They were wrapped up in each other, arms tangled and lips locked together in violent crashes of aroused hunger. There were men hitting on women, reeking of lust and desires unfulfilled. Women, those wishing to be in the arms of a certain stranger, stared out in envy. They wanted more than to be on the sidelines. Alcohol was handed off quickly as the two bartenders served with such speed and talent that it was hard to call them human.

The bass boomed as the woman was lost in the sea of men and women, the silver of her hair disappearing from where Azrael, the owner of the club, watched from above. His fingers tapped at his jaw, wondering why the woman was there, in his club. Sure, he could think of all the normal reasons, the boring reasons. Yet, she didn't seem interested in the few men he had watched staring at her ass in those sexy, skintight pants. His fingers moved to run through his short, black hair in aggravation.

There were few that he couldn't figure out when they walked through his doors. Something she had said, something she had done had let her in the club of sin. What could she have possibly said that would allow his strict guard to let her in? She looked young, with a baby face full of makeup that made her look strangely older yet ageless. His eyes, he supposed, could be wrong about her disinterest, but rarely were his eyes wrong. He could see anything if he focused on it, a skill he had developed, just as he had developed the skill of being able to find a man or woman's sinful desires. That new woman didn't have any that he knew for certain about from when she had walked in. There was no envy, and no lust. It was alarming for one to come in who didn't have that look about them that said what their sins were.

He growled and rose from his chair that he had been straddling with the back facing the glass. There was a large glass one-way wall that he could peer out of when he pleased and he had been looking down absentmindedly before the girl's appearance. Now that Azrael's interest was piqued he wasn't going to waste anymore time sitting idly. As he moved to the door to head out into the nightclub to find the woman and figure her out, there was a knock at the door he had been fast approaching. The dark oak, painted black like most of the colors of his office, opened after a moment's pause. "Sir?" a man in a suit with an earpiece in asked carefully.

"What?" he snapped out, irritated at being interrupted when all he wanted to do was chase down that intriguing specimen of a human.

The guard held his hands in front of him, clasped with his back straight and dark glasses over his eyes. "You have a visitor who wishes to see you," the guard responded. Azrael snarled. He brushed off his guard with a sneer.

"Tell them to get lost. I have other things I would much rather be seeing to," he muttered. Then, the guard turned to say something to someone who had been waiting in the hall. Before anything could be said the silver-haired beauty stepped into Azrael's office. The waves of straight hair swayed by her waist and she crossed her arms over her chest when she stood in front of his tall form. Her blue eyes, flecked with onyx, glared up at him with pure defiance and anger.

"Sit down. There are things that must be discussed," the woman snapped out to him and pointed at the desk. She looked disgusted when she noticed the chair by the wide, one way window facing the body of club goer's below. Her eyes rolled and she strode past him. His jaw dropped and for some reason he waved away his worried guard. The human man closed the door as he did as he was told without another word. Azrael was left with the wicked woman who was sitting up straight and stiffly in front of his desk. He strolled over, not used to be pushed around and wondering just who she thought she was. He was the owner of Club Cain, a very profitable club that was filled every day of the week as soon as he opened his doors. Yet, she acted as if he was a piece of chewed gum on the bottom of her shoe- a nuisance and something she couldn't wait to be rid of when she could finally get him away from her.