Lost Souls - Book 2 "Convergence"

Chapter 1 - Saturday, September 19th

Marcus shoved his chair away from his desk, sprung to his feet and strode out of his office as if he were running from a fire. He skidded to a halt on the metal walkway outside his door, and sucked in a huge breath. Releasing it in a tightly controlled stream, he waited for the pressure constricting his chest to ease, before he gave in to the urge to put his fist through whatever was handy. The compulsion to do something had propelled him out of his chair in an explosion of motion, completely disregarding the mountain of paperwork strewn on his desk, some of which now fluttered to the floor in the wake of his abrupt departure.

Forced from the quiet seclusion of his office by an imperative his body had automatically obeyed, he'd found that he suddenly didn't know what to do with himself next. He had nowhere to go and solving the source of his agitation was out of his hands, so why the sudden, pressing need to act? Hobbled by a depressing lack of options, he floundered for a purpose or a target, something at which he could direct the frenetic energy fizzing in his bloodstream at before it consumed him.

Glancing over his shoulder, back at his open office door, he debated returning to the backlog of invoices and paperwork he'd hastily abandoned, but his feet had other plans, refusing to take him back in that direction. Instead, he began to walk, stalking heavily on the metal grids, the impacts from the heels of his shitkickers drowned out by the roar of voices and music from his pride and joy below.

Delirium used to be his pride and joy. Lately, it had become nothing more than a distraction and a bitter reminder of the things he was missing out on in his empty life. He'd even gone so far as to try and partake in the free sex-on-tap available every night, but his whole body and mind lacked sufficient interest. He'd given up when it became embarrassingly obvious that arousal wasn't something he could force or fake, no matter how hard he'd tried. His beast had overruled his will every single time. Beautiful submissives had trailed after him begging to be his for the night, but it was of no use. Goddesses or trolls, it mattered little to Marcus, not when every nerve in his body was stubbornly lusting after an angel.

The other women didn't even register on his radar.

She'd given him a taste...an infinitesimally small, not nearly fucking enough taste...of what he'd been missing and now, there was no going back to living the way he'd had before he'd met her. She had altered him on a fundamental level and then had banished him from her life, leaving a gaping wound in his soul that refused to close without her in it.

Marcus paused, breathing heavily and shook his head to dispel the despondency that threatened to suck him into a black hole of depression. He ran a frustrated hand through his long, black hair and looked out over the guardrail. The thought briefly crossed his mind to venture downstairs, get a beer and take a load off, but the throngs of people covering the main level reminded him too much of locusts swarming on a cornfield, and he immediately discarded the idea with a shudder of revulsion.

Happy crowds and a packed Club was all sorts of awesomeness for his bottom-line, but it was too much stimulation for him to handle in the raw emotional state he was in. He stepped back quickly, cloaking himself in shadows, praying that nobody had noticed him hovering above their heads. With his head so fucked up, he was in no shape to be good company to anyone and having to pretend to be sociable would be beyond insufferable. He just didn't have the energy to make the effort tonight.

He continued to walk, taking advantage of the unoccupied space above the main level of the Club and resigned himself to a state of self-imposed isolation. It was the only way he could function without losing his shit. His hand itched for something to hit, some way to vent his frustrations, so it was probably a good thing he stayed away from the general masses. Punching out a paying member who'd pissed him off wouldn't earn him any brownie points with his partners, but he still needed to find something to do before he exploded.