Chapter 11 #3
Without thinking, I move toward the metal railing and glance down into the foggy, glowing pit.
Neon lights flicker in all directions, casting shadows upon the many faces below.
The alcohol courses through my veins with a delicious tingle, and I feel a delay in my movements.
I watch a crowd of people sway closely on the dance floor, their bodies intertwined—men and women letting the slow, loud bass pull them together.
I scan the faces of the people as their mouths hang open in smiles, excitement, and pleasure. The scent of dancing humans and hybrids mixes with heavy alcohol, and it’s mesmerizing to watch their bodies work in such unison.
As badly as I don’t want to admit it, I’m jealous for a second. I miss the feeling of touch—the feeling of freedom—and it’s been too long since I’ve let a man drag his hands all over me.
I grip the railing, watching, half tempted to walk down when I feel someone’s gaze burning into mine, causing my core to flip.
I slowly scan the crowd, wondering whose eyes are on me, and freeze.
Crew Bannermin’s glare scorches me within the sea of people.
His tall frame towers over the others, and his darkness fills the space around him as if his black wings are extended—fully stretched for all to see.
His strong neck tilts back into the air, and a faint smile spreads across his dark features. I slowly drag my gaze to take in his surroundings and quickly find that he’s not alone.
A dark-haired woman dances against him, her back pressed fully into his chest with her arms wrapped around his neck as they sway to the music. Her hips move slowly, making sure her hands touch every part of him.
My jaw slackens.
However, his eyes never leave mine, as if he’s begging me to watch, and it’s clear from his face—both drunk from alcohol and lust—he’s clearly enjoying it. I try to pull my gaze away, but it’s like I’m in a trance, watching them grind together.
The female snakes her body forward, driving her ass into his hips, and I stare as his fingers dig into her skin.
Crew’s hands move, dragging all over her, and my breath hitches as the heat rises in my cheeks.
The woman laughs, and my gaze burrows into his as my anger grows.
His silver eyes shine in the red light, and the fog follows their movements, as if this entire moment is only for them—and me to watch.
Crew removes a hand from her body and slowly motions for me to come down with a curl of his finger.
The female turns and places her chest against his, wrapping her arms around his strong neck, never stopping the grinding against him.
She travels down his body slowly and back up again while the heavy bass thumps in perfect rhythm.
Crew’s eyes darken, and his hand tangles in her hair, jerking her head back to expose her neck and full chest.
He smiles directly at me and motions.
I grip the railing harder.
“Need a drink now?” Crew mouths.
“Fuck you,” I mouth back, and he grins.
“Come down here, little angel. I. Dare. You.”
Disgust fills my core, and I shove myself away from the railing, pulling my gaze from them.
Dare me? I fight the urge to storm down there and swing my fist into his nose.
I catch Talon moving from the table back to the bar, and I follow him, making my way through the tight crowd.
Even as I step away from the rail, I can still feel his eyes as if they are glued to me, and my heart slams against my ribs.
The bartender pours Talon a shot, and I sneak up behind him, snatching the small glass filled with dark liquid and downing it. The burning sensation mixes with my anger, and I slap my hand on the bar for another.
Talon watches me with wide eyes. “That was mine.”
I slam back another shot, doing anything I can for the feelings churning inside me like a storm to stop.
“Alright, then. It’s one of those nights,” Talon concedes. “Remind me to hold your hair back later when you start throwing up.”
I lean forward, getting the attention of the female bartender, and motion her toward me.
“Can I help you?” she asks, as she cleans a glass with a towel.
“Put everything on Crew Bannermin’s tab, please.”
She smiles wildly, setting down the cup and nodding before pouring Talon and me another shot and drink to match.
“You’re joking?” Talon says.
I shrug. “He wanted to buy me a drink.”
Talon tips his head back with a deep laugh. “Fuck yeah.”
We cheers the shot and tip it back.
The lights around me begin to swirl, but I don’t stop.
With each drink, I let the numbness take over, moving around the bar as if my body is in pieces, yet I refuse to go back to the railing.
I know he’s there—I can feel the demons all around me.
I feel the pull like a dark drug, and as the alcohol settles in, the more I want to be a woman in the pit grinding on a man.
I converse with strangers, laugh, and stumble. I stick my tongue down some hot guy’s throat that I won’t remember tomorrow. I turn into a different Mara—a better one. Someone who isn’t an assassin. Someone who hasn’t made deadly mistakes and who people seem to enjoy.
I take another drink and fade into the darkness, indifferent to whether I resurface.