Hello everyone,

I just want to say thanks for reading. There was some concerns that this story would have sex trafficking in it, and I want to ease those concerns. I will not put Bella or her friend through something like that. However, there will be situations in later chapters that have dub-con in them. Besides the actual bullying Bella will face. that's the only thing that might offend people.

Also, there is a third guy involved in Bella's harem. Embry- I'm sure y'all know who I'm talking about. If you haven't seen him recently, I urge you to go check him out. He's pretty freaking hot. That's all for now, hope you all enjoy.

That's for reading, favoriting, following, and reviews. I appreciate it.

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Emmett-

I saw her the second she stepped out of the cab, wobbling on stilettos and looking lost. I kept my attention diverted on the coward who was anxious to get inside Palomino in case the partygoers decided to get rowdy awaiting entrance, but that doesn't mean I hadn't spotted her.

Prey.

That's what she is. She has no idea what she's getting herself into. Diablo. That's what I said my name is, and it's not far from the truth. I will go to any lengths to get what I want, and I don't give a shit who's standing in my way.

A dance with the devil is my request for letting her skip over fifty people in line, and she will pay the price for the shit I'm about to eat for the inconvenience. Yet, how can I say no when I see a delicious offering before me?

Pretty lavender eyes peer up at me through thick lashes, and the caution in those eyes speaks to the darkness in me. Her innocence is a beacon calling to the wickedness inside of me like a lighthouse shining in the dark. The sweet scent of banana-mixed coconuts wafts to me on a breeze, and I want to take a bite of that long slender neck.

She will be ours as soon as I can find a replacement to take my spot at this door.

Already feeling possessive, I watch her tangle her fingers through the girl's hand behind her and pull the brunette through the opening. I have an urge to yank her fingers away from the other girl's, not liking her touching another. My top lip curls, but I keep a tight rein on the animal awakening inside me.

As she and her friend slip inside the club, my gaze skips down her length, catching hints of her spine through the thin material of her dress. Her waist is tiny, and I bet I can wrap both of my hands around it until my fingers touch. Following the curve of her hips to her ass, my entire body tingles, joints locking in place with an intensity that leaves me mystified. A pull in my gut begs me to give chase, but the jeering of the crowd has my attention swinging back to a bunch of pissed-off people.

"What the fuck, man? I've been standing here for the last twenty minutes," a guy growls until I pin him with a hard stare. "Just because she has a tight ass doesn't—."

His sentence trails off when I clench my jaw and my nostrils flare. This preppy bastard has no idea who he's talking to, and his stupid words are evidence of that. Molars on the verge of cracking with the tension in my jaw, I meet his gaze, letting him feel the full impact of my intent. "Look at her ass again, and I will pluck the eyeballs out of your skull."

The douchebag's eyes widen as big as saucers and he visibly swallows. His Adam's apple bobs nervously with the movement. To drive my point further home, I growl, "Got me?"

"I got ya," he starts, followed by a hasty explanation about standing out in this heat forever, blah, blah, blah.

I tune him out as I reach for the walkie clipped on my hip. Hitting the side button, I speak into the mouthpiece. "Need someone to take over the front door. Have better shit to do than stand out here all night."

Immediately, Edward's voice crackles through the speaker. "Matt's headed your way in five."

I grin at my brother's response. "There's a piece headed your way, bro. Bleach-blonde, kinda tall, wearing a black floral print dress that cuts off mid-thigh, sleeveless with silver stilettos. Pretty fucking cute, man."

Edward's not my real brother, but the bond has been ironclad between us since we joined the football team freshman year. We play for St. Andrew's, a private school based in New York, and the moment we met as scrawny teens we've been inseparable. We have a bit of a reputation at our high school and are known as The Prophecy. Nothing happens without our say-so.

They call me Lucifer because of my dark appearance, and intense stare. People say it reminds them of the devil. With a nice face and build that most linebackers can't break through, I'm an unstoppable force. Edward is Lord. He's fucking immaculate in his appearance, organization, and his word is law. Then there's Embry who is known as Love. Love is our middle ground, and holds us together as a group. Where I can be irrational with my temper, and Lord is my polar opposite, Love is down-to-earth and a fucking lady's man. The dude has seen more vaginas than an OB doctor.

"Em, you're talking about half the girls in this club." Edward's voice cuts out when he releases the button.

"I just let her in, dick." If it wouldn't cause a stampede, I would ditch my position to make sure to keep tabs on her myself. As it is, another woman around my age steps forward, batting her lashes and licking her lips at me. She reaches a hand out as if she's going to touch my arm, and I shift away, purposely avoiding her fingers. Waving my hand back toward her group of friends, I say, "Go back to your people, hitting on me isn't going to get you inside these doors."

The woman before me pouts, a practiced puppy dog expression taking over her features. Her sparkling blue eyes and shiny black hair do nothing for me. If I took her to the nearest empty room, I have little doubt she'd let me bend her over, and fuck her into next week. Even knowing that there's zero reaction from my end when she whines, "But it worked for that girl …"

I don't even dignify her statement with a response. Shifting my weight from foot to foot, the walkie in my hand comes back to life. Edward asks, "Is she with a tall brunette?"

"Yep, keep your eyes on her. If Matt doesn't show up soon, I'm going to fire his ass. Where the fuck is he, anyway?"

I hired Matteo Gonzales two weeks ago, recommended by his father, who has worked for Palomino since it was built. He's been a really bad investment. The fucker shows up to work late more than he does on time and we've tried three different positions so far. After he dropped half a dozen bottles of liquor we'd yanked him out from behind the bar to make him a server. He wound up giving more drinks away than he charged for, scared to go back and have customers pay their tabs. If he can't man the fucking door, we're going to have a real issue.

Edward's father, Edward Mason Sr., the head of Celtics back in Boston acquired this club from Javier Rodriguez. Somehow the motherfucker took down part of the Mexican cartel with a few keystrokes and as a consolation prize took the position of Palomino. Ed Sr. decided Junior needed to learn some responsibility, and sent his ass down here to the club to run for the summer. It's a hotbed here in Cancun, and through the backdoor, all kinds of illegal shit are flying through the alleys making its way throughout Mexico at an escalated rate. Human flesh is practically the only thing we don't do business in. After Ed Sr. took down Javier, he put his foot down on the topic, which is commendable considering the dude is a first-class prick.

Hell, he's had Edward engaged since he was fucking two. Who the fuck arranges the marriage of his toddler son? Ed Sr., that's who. Jane Volturi is a bitch we go to school with back home, and as soon as Edward graduates she will become his wife, even though he protests the arrangement daily.

Cringing with the thought of Edward being strapped down to that man-eater makes me ill. I have my issues with my own parents, but that's for another day, and today isn't the time to worry about it.

Today, I have better things to occupy my mind. Just as I brush off the troubles ahead, Edward's voice breaks up as he chuckles, "New toy?"

"I thought we could use a cute little distraction while we're in paradise." My laugh echoes in the hollow doorway. Patience is wearing thin, and my annoyance is brewing as I continue to wait for Matt. "Where the fuck is this guy?"

My Giants jersey I ripped the sleeves off of is sticking to my skin, and the humidity has a layer of sweat coating my arms. I would love to jump in the shower and peel these ripped jeans off, but since that's not an option, I am anxious to get inside and kill a few shots before tracking down my latest amusement.

"She's kinda cute. Are you sharing?" I roll my eyes at the stupid ass question. On occasion, Edward, Love, and I have taken girls out on our own, but sharing is our forte. "What the fuck do you think? Love's gonna be pissed he's missing out."

"It's his damn problem for deciding to go to Montana with his grandfather. Bet his balls will be bluer than the sky by the time he breaks free." Normally, Edward doesn't find much funny. He's too serious for his own good, so when his chuckle bleeds through the mumbling of the lingering line, I snicker as well. His next statement tickles my sense of humor even more as his sarcastic question erupts from the walkie. "Who the fuck chooses to go to Montana for the summer instead of paradise?"

"Maybe if we had grandparents that were worth a shit," I answer, pushing the thoughts of my grandparents out of my mind. My dad is a bastard, but his dad … Wanting to get off the topic, I switched gears. "I'd pick the ocean over the mountains any day."

"I just choose money and Palomino is sure to make an assload."

"There's more to life than money, prick," I state, rolling my eyes. "Are you even going to ditch that suit and come down to the beach?"

I've known Edward for the last three years, and we've done everything together. I have yet to see the dick in anything less than a fancy button-down and slacks. The fucker couldn't be any more pretentious if he tried. His reply comes swiftly. "We can't all be so lax. We have an image to maintain."

"I think my image was pretty clear when I was beating Sandreski's ass last year. No one would dare cross me." I glance down at the tattoos covering the backs of my hands. The ink hides numerous scars that I have accumulated over the years. After a brawling MMA fight I'd been in, I'd broken my wrist and three ribs. My prick of a granddad wrapped me up and sent me right back into the ring, spouting, "Don't win, don't come home."

The words ought to be printed on the fuckers forehead because it is his mantra. My whole body grows tight when I think about the first time I was placed in the ring at six. Of course, this was underground. I have always been bigger than the average kids my age, and Papa Rollins has taken advantage of my size. That year I had been beaten, wearing cuts and bruises over nine-tenths of my body. While other kids were riding ponies and going on vacation, I'd been nursing a broken arm and black eyes.

Last year at the homecoming dance, my then semi-girlfriend was caught in the locker room with Sandreski, the goalie on the school's hockey team. I beat him so badly that he spent three days in intensive care for crossing the line. After that, no one looks at me sideways.

The only reason I wasn't charged with assault is because Edward's father stepped in and paid the family to shut the fuck up. I would have gladly spent time in the pen. Nobody fucks with what's mine, and I made that point crystal fucking clear.

"Sandreski is a fucking idiot. Did he really expect you not to find out?"

I'm about to respond when the double doors open, and Matt hesitantly steps out. I don't know what the guy's problem is, but he always acts like someone is gonna snatch him up and murder his family. Considering where we are that's not too far of a stretch, but no one is going to fuck around with Ed Sr property. Since Matt works here at Palomino that protection also covers him. With his poor performances, however, I can't promise how long that will last so I don't bother to explain it. This is his last chance to prove his worth. If he can't man this door tonight, I will ensure it's his last here at this club.

"It's about fucking time, Matteo." I slap the walkie into his outstretched hand, and as his fingers close around the hard plastic, I hold his stare. "The club is at its capacity. Only permit enough customers that cover the ones exiting. Think you can handle that?"

He flinches at my harsh tone, but when someone has fucked up as much as he has, it's hard to have much faith in his ability. Nervously, his tanned hand rubs his stubbled jaw, his deep brown eyes darting wildly over the waiting line. His accent is heavy as he nods, his head jerking with the movement. "I'm good, Boss. Is this the button I push to talk through the speaker?"

I growl when he points at the earpiece. My annoyance mounts as I gesture to the walkie, indicating where he should talk through. "Man, you talk through this part. I swear, Matteo, you're bouncing on my last fucking nerve. The only reason you still have a job is because your father has been a loyal employee since this place opened."

He scratches his forehead with short, ragged, bitten nails. I bet if I yelled boo loud enough, he'd piss his dull black jeans. With each passing second my faith in his ability dwindles, and with a shake of my head, I say, "You know what? I will send Pedro out here until you feel more comfortable."

Even stating that I realize he's vulnerable makes me appear kind of weak. I can't help it though. Down here there is a shortage of legitimate jobs for the citizens. I don't want to be the reason his kids can't eat because he loses his job. He can thank my eagerness to get to my new toy for my charitable nature.

Matteo stops fidgeting, and mumbles, "Gracias."

With one last glance at the busy street and the awaiting crowd, I head inside. The hallway leading to the main floor is so small that I have to nearly turn sideways to fit my shoulders through the tight space. Shuffling down the narrow hall, I roll my shoulders as a blast of cold air sifts across my heated skin. And I relish the cool down.

Coming upon a couple making out against the wall, vibrating with music blasting from the speakers, I squeeze past. The lucky bastard is nearly fucking the girl with his fingers shoved up her skirt. Awareness ripples through me when he bites her neck and her lips part with a gasp. Blue eyes widen when she catches me looking, and I merely shrug in response.

When you're nearly fucking in public what the hell do they think is going to happen. I'm not going to lie. I'm an exhibitionist and I'm definitely into voyeurism. I don't give a shit who sees me fucking, and love to watch some hot action. As it is, the couple in the hallway are amateurs.

The need to find my muse and release some tension of my own propels me forward until I'm standing under purple and blue laser lights in the darkened room. Skirting the over-enthused crowd, I make my way around the room to the booth we claimed as ours.

My eyes close with a rise in temper when a guy bumps into me and his drink sloshes over the rim of his glass and soaks my jersey. "Oh shit. My bad."

Through gritted teeth, I glare down at him as the stench of beer wafts in the air. I pinch the sopping mesh and pull it off my skin. "If you don't get the fuck out of my way. It will be your bad."

Before I can even take another step some chick I've never seen before wraps around my arm. "I saw you walk in. Damn, you're fine. Wanna get out of here and have some fun?"

My whole body goes rigid, and I yank out of her grasp. "Damn straight, I wanna have some fun. Not with you though."

Her glossy red lips drop as shock takes over her features. "You don't have to be so rude."

"Don't ask a question, if you don't want an honest answer." She gaps back at me like a fish sucking air. With a wave of my hand, I yank my arm out of her grasp and push through a group hopping with the beat of the music.

Finally, my booth is in sight and I see Edward's stoney expression focused off into the dances. Following the direction of his gaze, I see her dancing with her friend. A couple of guys must decide to test fate as they linger an inch away. One eager asshole reaches toward her, his fingers brushing her hip, and everything goes red.

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