Phthartic Trilogy Book #2
Prequel to The Virgin's Prostitute
WARNING: For mature readers only.
This book can also be a stand alone
Niccolo Black is the best assassin of his time, he's ruthless and is known to care about no one but himself. Marcus L...
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Marcus' POV *Two years later*
I found myself in a bar. It had been two years since he was gone and this was the only way I found myself to be okay. I never liked drinking because I thought I would become my foster dad, Gerard. He was always drinking and when he was drunk that was when he caused the most pain.
I'm glad I don't remember most of it, but I remember enough.
Tonight I found myself here because it was the anniversary of Nico's death. The night I lost everything.
The waitress eyed me, not out of curiosity, but out of concern. Her brown hair was in a slick bun and the red lipstick she wore contrasted her bold blue eyes.
I ordered another round of scotch when the bartender hesitated.
"Drinking the pain away? Because one more cup and you might need a liver transplant." I glared at him as best as I could.
"Shut the fuck up and give me what I want...... Please?" This has to be the worst private bar I've ever been to. Or the most customer concern I have ever received from one.
"Marcus, you've been in here three nights in a row."
"What can I say, your alcohol tastes good and isn't cheap." I shrugged my shoulders and grabbed the glass from his hand.
"Tell you what. If I do need a liver transplant, I'll give you fifty grand. Want to bet on it?"
"I don't want your fucking money man, just get out." I sighed.
"But if I leave.... What if I leave now and get kidnapped or something? I'm drunk and defenseless." I frowned.
"You're a 6'4, 220 lb male with boxing experience. You'll be fine." He grabbed the glass back from me and I stood up in irritation swaying a bit.
I didn't see the guy behind me and accidentally bumped into him.
"Sorry man." I mumbled when he ignored my apology and pushed me into another guy who was more mad at the guy who pushed me, than me, for spilling his drink.
I steadied myself staring at the blonde biker guy with tattoos all over his face.
"What's a pretty boy like you doing here? Daddy gave you all his money?"
"Are you calling me daddy? Because that's kinda gay man, and you're not my type." I heard the bartender snort and so did the guy sitting beside him.
"Get your ass out of here before I mess up that face of yours."
"Stop talking, your breath is giving me lung damage." I mumbled and he growled. Like a fucking animal, It wasn't like primal play, it was a full on animal growl like he was a werewolf or some shit.
