Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
JADE
P ure bliss. To be in full control of our minds, to have a grip on our emotions and be aware of our behaviors. It is a state of being that makes you feel complete and eternal happiness. It’s all anyone aspires to reach.
All except me.
I thrive on the hindering feelings of anxiousness and despair. I prefer the sensation of losing all inhibitions, my mind going hazy, and not having to worry about the judgments and unsolicited opinions associated with my less-than-ideal upbringing. The only thing that makes me feel anything other than complete numbness, lies at the bottom of a bottle. I understand drinking away your woes isn’t the most efficient of coping mechanisms, but it’s the one that seems to work for me, at least in the moment.
I sway back and forth to the rhythm of the music blaring from the speakers above, bottle of gin in my hand as a blurry Stella and Ruby follow my movements in perfect synchrony. This is the only way I can find any sense of normalcy nowadays, to be completely out of my usual element. Suffocating in a tumultuous crowd, drowning my sorrows in a bottle of liquor, and hoping to wash away the underlying fear and agony that seem to be the only feelings I can’t get rid of.
“I need another drink,” Ruby shouts out, barely audibly over the screams emanating from Halsey as she sings about how glad she is to never have had a baby with her ex-lover. I lift the bottle in my hand, but she cringes, shaking her head. “Absolutely not, you know I’m a vodka girly. Besides, I need a smoke.”
She turns to look quizzically at Stella who watches us with glossy eyes and sweat dripping from her strawberry blond curls. Have to give the girl some credit, she’s learned to keep up with the two of us, though I’m not entirely sure that’s a good thing.
Stella raises her hands abruptly, “Oh no, you know I don’t smoke. I hate cigarettes,” she says, in dismissal of Ruby’s invitation.
Ruby flicks her slick black hair over her shoulder as she pulls a perfectly rolled joint out of her black, strapless, leather dress. “That’s not what I’m going out to smoke Stella,” she sneers, waving the joint in her hand. Stella’s eyes go wide, as she watches Ruby turn and stalk away like it’s the most normal thing to strut around with a joint visibly in her grip.
“Wait,” she shouts, making Ruby halt in her tracks. The smug bitch turns back to us with a triumphant grin. “I’ve never...” Stella trails off.
“You don’t have to Stella,” I say, glaring at Ruby, giving her a “ what the fuck are you thinking” scowl . Though all the Red Dragon does is roll her eyes at me. “Ruby stop being a bad influence on her,” I add, bringing the bottle in my hand up to my mouth to take a long swig.
“Well, look who’s talking,” Ruby says, pointing at the now half empty bottle in my hand.
“Don’t worry Jade, I’ll just do it once, like a hit right?” Stella asks, genuinely curious and oblivious to the ins and outs of smoking weed .
“Yeah Jade, don’t worry, she’ll only take a hit.” Ruby’s sarcasm is evident in her voice, while a taunting smirk crosses her lips as she takes Stella under her arm and walks off toward the left side of the club exit leading out onto a patio used for smoking.
“Bitches,” I sneer, my drunk ass paying no attention to the fact that they left me in the middle of a crowded dance floor, alone. We came back out to Torment in Galen Grove, preferring the animosity of a crowded nightclub where not everyone in its vicinity goes to our school. Here we have locals, out of towners, and of course your regular privileged punks, but everyone is preoccupied by the bright lights, the intoxicating smell of smoke, musk, and alcohol, and the calamity of the music blaring all around us. Better than any old house party if you ask me, even if said house parties are thrown in multimillion dollar mansions.
Here there is no small talk, no snide glares, no jealous bitches watching our every move. In this environment we are nobody, and although my classmates continuously find the need to remind us of our nobody status , contrary to what they believe, we are their favorite outlet for entertainment and gossip. As much as they hate us, they sure as fuck love to talk about us.
The dance floor becomes overwhelmingly crowded, as my awareness of where I am begins to make me formidably anxious, and I immediately feel the urge to run away. Of course, I choose instead to take another swig of the liquor in my hand. Fuck, it definitely should be a problem if the gin tastes like water at this point, but I shrug it off. I’m about to walk off toward where Ruby and Stella ran off to when my song comes on.
“Yes this is my song!” I shout out to no one in particular, and not one soul turns to look at me. Unable to resist, I begin to sway once again to my girl Madison Beer who essentially tells a guy to fuck off and that she will not be going home with him.
I move to the rhythm, running my hands up and down my body, feeling the sweat-clad skin of my stomach in my white strapless top and matching mini skirt. Yeah I have a banging body and damn right I flaunt it everyone be damned. Visions of Sebastian’s hands replacing mine cloud my drunken mind, taking over as flashbacks of us at the cabin, on New Year’s Eve, after Ace’s birthday party, and every time in between come rushing to me. Especially just last week when I ran to him and he fucked me like he never has fucked me before, hell better than I’ve ever been fucked.
The way his rough hands gripped my waist, his lips trailed sensual circles around my neck, kissing, licking, and sucking my sensitive skin. But most importantly, the way he takes control of me, his hand wrapped around my neck, my arms restrained above my head, and my ass imprinted with the shape of his palm.
It makes my feministic values look like shit were anyone to ever find out how I like to be fucked, but feminism be damned. I’m a woman, I like sex, and I like it rough. Not to mention preferably by the dark haired, silver-eyed, brutal sex God.
Strong hands suddenly come around my waist covering mine as a hard, warm body comes up against me. Alarms start ringing in my head at the intrusion, but I’m too far gone to react. Especially when a thick erection forcefully pushes against my back. Instead of pulling away like I should, instead of turning and slapping the fucker for groping me, I give into the sensation of his arms wrapping around me and calloused hands roaming over my overly sensitive flesh. Hot breath blows across the nape of my neck as I lean back, giving him more access to do what I need him to do. I close my eyes ensuring I don’t catch a glimpse of my stranger and kill the mood, my mind envisioning Sebastian, and my body praying it were him.
“Fuck,” a deep moan escapes my mystery man’s lips and I feel it reverberate within every inch of me, sending electric currents through me like a car’s dead battery that just got jump started.
“Mhm,” I moan in response, allowing myself to fully give into the sensation of his lips which find the most sensitive spot of my neck, the dip right above my collarbone, and trailing around to my nape. His thick erection pushes deeper into me and has me practically panting in desperate arousal. “Yes,” I cry out softly, as his hands find the heated skin of my inner thigh, his right knuckles grazing me through my soaked thong. I can feel my wetness as it pushes against me, and practically come in the middle of the dance floor from the crass touches of a drunken stranger.
What the fuck am I doing?
I don’t get the chance to react to my own question, I don’t even get the chance to pull away before my lustful daydream bursts. “Such a naughty little slut aren’t you Little Wolf,” he growls out, deep and tantalizing making my skin curl in response.
Well fuck me.
It takes me all of five seconds, would have been two but I’m fucking wasted, before I turn and come face to face with my groper, and fuck me what a face. I should have stayed facing away from him, because everything I thought I was going to yell at him for doing what he just did to me in the middle of a crowded nightclub, is gone. Pooft. Like I was never able to form a coherent thought or sentence. Deep gray eyes watch me with a prowess I’ve never seen before—lust mixed with rage. It’s fucking invigorating.
“Sebastian,” I whimper, like a fucking needy slut. God I hate that word. I mean don’t get me wrong I use it from time to time combined with the word whore, but mainly to insult girls like Kinsley Carlyle who forcefully try everything in their power to seduce a man that wants nothing to do with them—men that belong to another—but not because they’re just trying to get laid. I mean why should men be the only ones who get to have all the fun, finding random fucks everywhere they go. Why can’t we, modern day woman, fuck for fun.
“I’m no slut,” I add, my voice low and breathy sounding exactly like what I’m telling him I’m not.
He huffs, turning away from me for just a moment before speaking. “You’re grinding that sexy little ass, rubbing against a fucking stranger,” his hands move low to grip my ass. “Letting him put his hands on that delectable little cunt, which might I add belongs to me.” He pushes in closer to me, his erection gliding perfectly in between my legs. “In the middle of a crowded dance floor drunk out of your mind. Yet you want me to believe you’re no slut,” he sneers, his glare turning dark and mischievous.
I’m pissed, hell I’m fucking fuming, I swear if I were to look in the mirror I’d find smoke coming out of my nostrils, and fire out of my eyes at his crass words and groping. Even if it feels so fucking good to have his hands all over me, my thong soaking wet, and my nipples hard and visible in my top. He doesn’t get to come here, put his hands all over me, and call me a fucking slut, when he’s just as bad, actually way worse than me.
“Fuck you asshole,” I shout, my hands flat against his chest pushing him off of me. He takes a step back caught off guard by my actions as a wicked smirk appears making him look devilishly sexy. His dark hair is slightly outgrown and free of product making the soft waves fall over his brows. Yup, I’m hella aroused again and he knows it, but I can’t give in tonight, for my sanity alone I need to stand my ground. He doesn’t get to insult me and then fuck me. “If anyone here is a slut it’s you,” I shout, stepping into him.
Big. Fucking. Mistake.
His lips find mine assaulting me in a forceful yet exhilarating kiss, our tongues sloppily tangling together as his hands find my hair and tug my head back to allow his mouth better access. He takes my bottom lip in between his, sucking it and roughly biting down before releasing me.
“Fuck,” I cry out. Son of a bitch it hurts.
His eyes fill with need and a desperate yearning echoes in his voice as he pulls away. “I’ve never denied it, baby.”
His thumb finds my lips rubbing over the area he bit, a small drop of blood coating his fingertip as he brings it to his mouth to suck.
“You’re such a fucking dick,” I scoff turning away from him, but not making it anywhere before he reaches out, grabs me by my fucking neck pulling me back into him. My thighs clench together and I feel my pussy start to pulsate in need. What the fuck is wrong with me? This should be pissing me the fuck off not turning me on.
Sharp teeth find my chin, a wet tongue trailing its way up, over my mouth and my cheek, licking clean the sweat that’s been dripping profusely. “A dick you love to wrap your pretty little mouth around. A dick you like harshly thrusted in and out of you as you desperately moan and cry out my name. A dick you want in every fucking way.”
I purr, literally purr like a fucking needy cat, my insides set aflame by his words. I should be disgusted, abhorred, but instead I’m contemplating dropping to my knees before him, yanking his dick out of his pants, and making him come with my pretty little mouth . But I don’t. I find some hidden courage, maybe brought forth by the alcohol coursing through my veins and slap him, flat palmed right across his gorgeously smug face. I catch him off guard, it’s the only reason my hand makes any contact with his cheek and isn’t gripped tightly in his hold. He’s stunned, his eyes turn black, enraged with fury, jaw clenched and hands fisted at his sides. It’s absolutely terrifying and for once I heed to the warning of imminent danger. So I do what I do best, I run.
I rush over toward the restrooms at the far right of the club, behind the bar, and under the second-floor staircase, pushing through the crowds of people practically fucking in the middle of the dance floor. Looks like I’m not the only horny bitch here. My vision is blurry, a deafening ringing in my ear and my mouth exceedingly dry. I don’t turn to see if he’s following me. I’m too terrified to find out. I just keep running pushing through hard, clammy bodies until I’m out of sight. Out of breath, I reach a dark hallway, my hand moving to push the ladies room door open when another hand comes around my waist hauling me up into the air and slamming my back against the concrete wall .
“Fuck,” I cry out, closing my eyes and cringing at the pain pulsating on my back.
“Word around town is you like it rough darling.” I freeze, my heart dropping to my feet, my blood running ice cold, as a thick cloud of dread consumes me. That voice, that crass, hair raising voice I’d recognize anywhere. “Is that why your man is such a fucking asshole packing a hell of a punch. You a fighter darling?” he asks, my eyes still closed refusing to look up at him.
“Let go of me,” I pant, my voice low and dripping with fear. “Please let go.” I want to scream at the top of my lungs. I want to shout out for Sebastian and beg him to come and save me even though I was just running from him, because this monster before me is more terrifying than he could ever be. But no words come out of my mouth. I’m in shock, speechless, and unable to move. Where the fuck is he?
“Your boy isn’t coming for you, he was, how can I put it, intercepted.” My eyes go wide at his admission, fear reveling in my gut at the thought of something happening to Sebastian because of this asshole and his goon. “Don’t worry darling, we’ll keep that pretty little face of his intact.”
“Boss wants her in one piece Skeet,” says another familiar voice appearing from the shadows. Speaking of his goon.
“Yeah that’s the only thing saving you darling, Boss Man doesn’t like it when I play with his toys, at least not until he’s had his turn.” I begin to kick and push against him but it’s no use. Once again I’m too far gone, the alcohol not only clouding my mind but weakening me, making me vulnerable to another attack.
“Let go you fucking asshole,” I scream but his hand quickly comes up to muffle my mouth. I contemplate biting his hand again but choose against it, I’m already in an extremely dangerous situation no need to further piss Psycho Skeet off.
“Don’t worry darling, you’re safe for now. Boss Man wants to have a little meet and greet with Sebastian Silver’s special lady.” Skeet’s eyes wander over me, his gaze filled with lust as he takes in my outfit. “Mhmmmm,” he mumbles as he sets me down. “What a shame.”
“You’re going to follow us, quietly and obediently, or you’re pretty boy is going to get a nice little beating.”
Panic consumes me at the mere thought of my man coming to harm. Yes he’s mine, it’s about time I accepted it. “Don’t fucking touch him,” I growl, sounding like the fierce Little Wolf he knows and loves.
The two henchmen lead me up the staircase to the VIP area we were in when Ace had his party here about a month ago. This time however the space is much less crowded, darker, and covered in a thick fog of cigar smoke. I can barely make out the sights before me, but the moment Skeet and his comrade step out of my way I know exactly who I am here to see.
Sitting directly in front of me on the large gold and velvet couch, is an alluring man dressed to the nines in an expensive, perfectly tailored navy suit that screams power. His hair is long and dark swept to one side while his face is clean and free of any imperfections except for a lone scar that crosses from the top of his left eyebrow down to his chiseled jaw. Instead of making him ghastly deformed it adds to the dark and dangerous appeal. Scarface—as I’ve just donned him—sits casually, one leg crossed over his knee with a thick Cuban cigar between his pointer and middle finger. I find myself unable to look away. I can tell he notices when a devious smirk appears in place of his scowl, green cat-like eyes boring into mine as he stands and slowly struts in my direction. It feels as if the room has suddenly shrunk in size and is caving in, leaving just him and I standing. There is no explanation needed. I feel it in my soul, this is Kane Dalton.
“My men were not exaggerating when they said Sebastian Silver’s girlfriend was the most beautiful woman they’d ever seen,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse and aggressive as he stops right before me. He’s tall and towers over me, not massive like Sebastian, however easily over six feet. “It is a pleasure to meet you Jade Wolfe,” he adds, extending his hand out to shake mine.
I don’t move a goddamn muscle, don’t even bother looking down at his outstretched hand before me, I simply keep my eyes glued to his trying my hardest to hide the fear coursing through me and keep my glare as impassive as possible. “I wish I could say the same, Kane Dalton.”
There is a bright gleam in his eyes as his name leaves my mouth, but he doesn’t look surprised that I’m aware of who he is. This is a man who knows how powerful he is and likes to be reminded other’s know it as well. He thrives not only on showing off his wealth and status, obvious in the way he presents himself, but also his notoriety. There are some men, powerful men who lead the most dangerous of regimes, that like to remain in the shadows or hidden behind the persona they’ve created. Something tells me Kane Dalton likes to show everyone who is in charge.
“I see you’ve heard about me,” he asks, clearly not expecting a response. Nonetheless I give him one letting him know I know exactly who he is.
“Kane Dalton, ill-famed leader of The Order, whoever the fuck they are,” I stop, glaring at the men who’ve suddenly stood up and moved to circle around their boss . They’re all equally well dressed but vary in appearance. Bald heads, thick beards, short, tall, round, fat, muscular, but all have one thing in common. You don’t want to be caught in a room alone with any of them, and here I am, alone, in a room, with them all.
He lets out a loud chuckle, the men behind him joining in like good little minions. “Beautiful and funny, it’s no wonder Silver has changed his ways for you.” Once again his goons follow in their leader’s footsteps, laughing at his snide remark. It’s a mockery how they all stand there acting like they know a goddamn thing about me or my relationship with Sebastian.
“Who’s to say I’m any better,” I blurt out letting my rage get the best of me. “What if I’m the corrupted one, looks can be deceiving. You are a perfect example actually.” Probably not the smartest thing to say but I’m too drunk to filter out my thoughts before they leave my lips.
“Oh really,” he says, curiosity evident in his glare. “And how is that?” He takes a step closer and I take two steps back but find Skeet and his buddy right at my back. In all honesty, the two fuckheads behind me seem like the bigger threat. Then again that might just be Kane’s beguiling disguise at work.
“I’m not one to form unfair opinions of someone before getting to know them, but something tells me Mr. Dalton, you are not as wholesome as you appear.” A wide grin spreads across his face, seemingly impressed by my boldness as he motions for me to join him further into his lair.
“I like you Jade. You have this lovely charm about you, it reminds me much of what I was like at your age.” I don’t willingly follow him back to the couch he was sitting on but am forced to by Skeets' friend who’s pushing me forward. Kane looks not much older than my father who had my brother when he was about my age, and me three short years later. I’d definitely say he’s younger than forty but with the scar on his face it’s hard to tell.
“What the fuck am I doing here?” I ask, frustrated by the men around here acting all high and fucking mighty. This must be what my sister was going through with Wesley Servite yet she left and went to work for him. Of course I now know it’s out of some obscene threat he made against her and Ace, but nonetheless she’s there and not here with me.
“No reason in particular just wanted to get to know the girl my men won’t stop yapping about.” My eyes bulge out in fear as I turn and look toward Skeet who eyes me with a frightening desire. It makes me fucking sick. “However there is no need to fear them my love, they know that you are now deemed off limits. No harm is to come to you from The Order.”
I turn to him, stunned, and confused by his remark, yet grateful. I get a weird feeling however, that his kindness isn’t at all altruistic. I’m about to speak but I'm distracted by the large tattoo wrapped around his neck that I hadn’t noticed earlier. The large sigil is a pyramid of sorts surrounded by three other smaller ones at each of the triangles corners, which somewhat resemble Celtic knots.
“Why?” I whisper, for only him to hear. He reaches for a stick one of his men hands him, the veins in his neck tightening as he swallows down a gulp of the amber liquid. “Well for one you are of obvious importance to Sebastian and secondly, I now consider you a friend. As a friend of Kane Dalton, you are a friend of The Order and therefore untouchable.”
“And who the fuck is The Order?” The men behind Kane advance all of them with darkening scowls, and loud grunts at my dismissal and subtle insult.
“All in good time love, for now all you need to know is we’re friends, and in a world like the one you now find yourself in, you can never have too many.”