| BOOK ONE OF THE VENANDI SAGA | A DARK MAFIA ROMANCE |
Teeth scrape over skin as he nips at my earlobe, "I told you..." Threading his fingers through the strands at my nape, he rolls my head to the side and his lips continue their exploration, "...
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The Hunter Family Apartment Manhattan, New York 14.6 miles from Queens (via I-495 W) ---
Earlier that evening... ---
Knox lounges comfortably on the couch, his nearly emerald eyes regard me with a bored expression as he prompts, "So, what's the plan, tonight?"
I can tell he's anticipating an evening of television and tears so he's more than a little surprised when I state, "I need to check out a club we opened a few months ago."
A squeal of delight sounds somewhere at the rear of the luxury apartment. Footsteps patter down the hall, and Dade barrels in, "Seriously?! As in... titties?"
Stifling a laugh, "Uhem..." I affirm, "Yes. Titties."
"Hell yeah! Tittiiieees!"
Knox rolls his eyes in mock exasperation, "Really, Dade? Is that all you think about?"
"Mmmm... Yep."
Chuckling quietly, I direct, "Well then, you better get ready. We're starting early, tonight and I'm getting fucked up."
I have pain to kill and things to forget.
Dancing in place, Dade warbles, "Tittiiieees! Gettin' fucked uuuuup!"
...and Knox snorts, "Dude. You gotta stop."
"I shan't. Titties must be celebrated." A pile of lanky limbs, Dade leaps onto the ottoman, "Honor the Carnea!"
"Mmmkay," Knox grunts, "Lay off the 300. It's warping your brain."
"This. is. Sparta!"
Swinging his legs over the edge, "No. This. Is. Manhattan. Upper East Side," Knox rises, and the pair wanders to their respective guest rooms.
"Hey, Knox... Knox, check out my abs."
"I'd rather no-Why are you so oily?"
"Makes my muscles look bigger..." Dade pops into his best flex, grunting, "See?"
"Huh... Yeah."
Crossing to the opposite end of the penthouse, I trudge to the master suite. Fatigue wears on me and my head tightens with the unmistakable pinch of an oncoming migraine. To be honest, I have no interest in going out, but I'm lost, without guidance - completely clueless on what to do next. For the better part of a year, I've had one goal: Find Baby. Now, I'll probably never see her, again, and seemingly the only recourse is to drown my sorrows in cheap alcohol and cheaper women.
