A few choice words pushed past my lips. I ran my fingers through my dark hair and exhaled a long breath.
Who would be my Charge this time?
I wasn’t sure why I bothered asking myself this question anymore. It was always the same—a greedy asshole. Regardless of age, sex, or nationality, they all wanted one of three things—money, power, or sex. While the first two always remained consistent, it was the third that never did. Some wanted more sex in general. Some wanted to have more sex appeal.
The list went on, but it all centered on that one thing—sex.
There was a time when my life revolved around sex too. Now everything I was revolved around wishes and the greedy ass people making them.
I adjusted my tie while looking at myself in the mirror. My eyes had long ago lost their vibrancy. They were dull and lifeless now instead of the bright blue they used to be. I exhaled a slow breath.
Life as a genie was taking a toll on me.
My hand ran along my jaw, noting the stubble there. I should shave but didn’t feel like it. I was positive nine times out of ten my Charges didn’t give a shit what I looked like, anyway. They were all self-centered, arrogant, or egotistical. I could tell from their wishes. Each wish was only meant to benefit themselves. No one ever wished for world peace. To end world hunger. Or cure cancer. People only cared about themselves.
At least the ones Dickhead assigned me to.
I grabbed my suit jacket and slipped it on. Looking presentable was something my demon insisted upon. He had class if nothing else. Part of me wondered if he’d say something about my rugged appearance.
Black tendrils of smoke rolled off me. Dickhead’s pull was growing stronger. Still, I fought it with everything in me.
He might own me, and I might have to come when he called, but I’d be damned if I would let it be instantaneous. I’d hold out as long as I could out of sheer spite.
More tendrils of black smoke swirled from my skin. They rolled off my clothes and dispersed in the air. I’d been one of his genies for years now and still had no freaking clue how this whole summoning thing worked or where the black smoke came from. My insides itched for me to give in to the pull, but I still had to slip on my shoes. I sat on my crappy futon and pulled them on while imagining what this Charge would look like. It was a game I liked to play, and one of the few things that made this existence somewhat bearable.
Male or female this time? I’d go with male. The last two had been female. Thinking of them had me wondering how the last one was doing. She’d made the dreaded mistake of her final wish being to ask for a million more wishes.
My lips twisted into a smirk as I remembered her plump lips turning into a frown when I told her that was one of the worst wishes she could have ever asked for. She hadn’t understood. I was positive she did now, though. Asking for more wishes, a million wishes, or even unlimited wishes, turned you into a genie. It was a trick wish—yes, you can have a million wishes, but they won’t be your own.
The black smoke simmered from me as though I was on fire. It clogged my nose and threatened to choke me if I didn’t give in. So, I closed my eyes and folded my arms over my chest like the good boy I was.
Fuck, I hated this.
The slightly off-kilter sensation I’d grown used to rushed through me, and then my nose filled with the stench of sex and greed. I opened my eyes as low-playing music filtered to my ears. It took my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the darkness surrounding me.
Why the hell was it always so dark in here?
Dickhead came into view. He sat perched on the black leather sofa in front of me with a devious smile stretched across his face. His dark hair was slicked back like always, and there was a new chick at his side. He was a handsome devil; I had to give him that. Good-looking and smooth with the ladies. Everything I used to be before this.
I missed my life.
“Hello, Ryan,” Dickhead said, his tone low and rough. “I have another Charge for you.”
Of course he did. Why else would I be here? It sure as shit wasn’t to party with him and his new girl. Every time he summoned me, it was because there was a new Charge he was sending me after because he was fucking hungry again.
How much greed could one Sin Demon eat?
I knew I wasn’t the only genie he had at his disposal. There was no telling how many of us he commanded, it wasn’t like we had Christmas parties and shit. My gaze drifted to the sexy chick with the long pink hair beside him. Was she a genie or just a plaything? Her black dress was tight in all the right places, and her strappy heels had my brow arching. Any woman who strapped spikes that big to her feet wasn’t someone to screw around with. An intricate tattoo of vines with some sort of flower twisted up one of her thighs, disappearing beneath the thin fabric of her dress. Places of me hardened that hadn’t in forever as I wondered where that vine led.
It had been too long since I’d touched a woman.
“Care for more information on your Charge, Ryan?” Dickhead asked, his question snapping me from my stupor. His smirk grew as I brought my eyes back to him. He nodded to the woman beside him. “Like what you see?”
I swallowed hard, not knowing how he wanted me to answer. He wasn’t the nicest guy. I mean, he was a demon. They were known for being hostile and vile.
The woman shifted, recrossing her long legs and drawing my attention to them. She flipped her pink hair over her shoulder and stuck her ample chest out further as her eyes raked over me.
Something was off about her. She wasn’t like me; she wasn’t a genie. She was something else.
When she licked her lips, and I noticed her tongue was forked, I knew I’d been right. I blinked. There was no doubt she was a demon. Who knew what kind, though? All I knew was that I needed to stop staring before I pissed Dickhead off or this chick decided to eat me. Literally.
I forced my stare away from her and cleared my throat. “Who’s the new Charge?”
“Hardy Norman.” He held a folder out to me. I grabbed it, knowing what would be inside—an image of the guy and a list of a few places I’d find him. “He should make for a tasty meal.”
I opened the folder, ignoring his comment, and stared at the picture of my new Charge. At least I’d been right about it being a man this time.
Hardy Norman was a bald guy who looked to be in his late forties. His nose was bulbous, and his eyes were puffy. The guy was hella overweight, but the smile on his face let me know he didn’t give a shit. He was happy. From his picture, it seemed as though there could be multiple reasons for his happiness—the cigar hanging from his mouth, the two fingers of scotch on the rocks in his hand, the stack of poker chips in front of him, or the busty redhead draped on his arm.
Hell, possibly it was a combination of all four.
“Money, gambling, it’s his thing. You know what to do,” Dickhead said, dismissing me.
He grabbed the martini glass on the table in front of him, and my eyes landed on the gold pinky ring he always wore. Greed was spelled out in bold letters across its face. It was his specialty. He was the Sin Demon for Greed.
I clutched the folder tight, knowing what would happen any second now. He’d send me back to my lamp.
Black smoke rippled through the air. I closed my eyes, waiting for my stomach to dip with the off-kilter sensation of whatever the hell you called this way of traveling.
Next thing I knew, I was home, tucked inside my lamp again. I tossed the folder on my coffee table and kicked off my shoes. My fingers fumbled to loosen my tie as I tried to relax. It was hard for me to unwind in a suit though. They’d never been my thing. I flopped down on my futon, picked up the folder, and opened it.