Chapter 39 Setting The Bait
Setting The Bait
The club's pulsating beats thump through the building and spill onto the street even as I wait in line to enter. Once inside, I hang my puffy coat on the rack and push my way into the throng. The bass thumps through my body, reverberating in my chest and making my skin tingle.
The club's neon lights flash and pulse to the beat, casting colorful shadows on the walls. The sea of bodies sways to the music as the crowd dances and grinds against each other. The dimly lit bar area is crowded with people shouting and laughing, their faces flushed from alcohol.
The scent of sweat and beer permeating the air mixes with the many clashing fragrances of perfume, adding to the sensory overload.
Without my coat, it takes effort to keep my shoulders from crawling up to my ears with self-consciousness.
I don’t have many clothes, so it hurt when I sacrificed my white tank top, cutting off the bottom to expose my taut stomach.
Despite not having much in the way of cleavage, I lean on showing skin to help me with my purposes. For extra effect, I've folded over the top of my one decent skirt until the hem barely covers the tops of my thighs. I need to be careful not to bend over or I’ll give away more than I intend.
The long fall of my jet-black hair cascades down my back in a shiny waterfall. I even used some old makeup Alice and Marie gave me that they didn’t want anymore. They said it would be fun for me to play with for dates with Miguel, even though I never did.
My stomach twists at the thought. I can’t let myself think of Miguel.
You are a monster tonight. Act like it.
My movements turn deliberate as I become someone else—a version of me that can handle anything and anyone. Or maybe I’m finally being myself. A huntress on the move.
With a confident sway in my steps and smoky eye makeup accentuating my predatory gaze, I scan the gyrating bodies around me.
I look for that barely perceptible darkness that lurks beneath the surface. I’ve seen it so many times, I’m certain I’ll be able to find it lurking somewhere in here.
Amid the press of people, one man stands out—a predator in his own right, masked by a charming smile and a dangerous glint to his edges. Like a knife catching the light.
He towers over the short blonde woman he's with, his broad frame filling out a faded band tee shirt that's seen better days. His crooked boxer’s nose, bent slightly to the left, is the only notable feature on an otherwise unremarkable face.
Crooked Nose’s arm is draped casually around her as he flirts, but his laughter doesn't reach his pale, almost colorless eyes—they're scanning, assessing. That's when I know. She's in danger, even if she doesn't realize it yet.
And she certainly doesn’t notice the pill he drops into her glass when she looks away.
He pushes the drink into her hand and tips the back end of the glass, forcing her to sip more, faster. The liquor dribbles down her chin as she giggles.
I catch his eye from across the club and walk straight toward him. I imagine myself a succubus as I put one foot in front of the other, keeping his eyes on me.
His interest is piqued, the woman he’s with already forgotten.
I stop a few feet away and stare him down with direct expectation. "What’s a girl got to do to get a drink around here?"
Knowing how loud one’s eyes can be in conveying thoughts, I think as loudly as I can, I plan to fuck your dick right off.
His dark brows shoot up, his lips quirking up on one side, hearing my silent message loud and clear. He twists around to order a drink.
The blonde he's with frowns and crosses her arms. Crooked Nose turns back and hands me a shot while holding one himself. Without breaking eye contact, I shoot the clear liquid back. He does the same, his pupils dilating.
My empty stomach churns and burns as the booze hits it.
It’s invisible, but I feel his hooks latch into me, detaching from the woman at his side. She slinks away, glaring daggers at me for having taken her mark for the night. She doesn’t know I just saved her, but I’m okay with that. I can be the bad guy.
Another round of shots appears in his hands.
I hadn’t planned on so much liquor, but I shoot this one too.
Warmth spreads out from the center of my belly.
Suddenly aware of the softness of my own skin, my fingers begin to slide along my exposed torso.
His eyes track the movement as he licks his lips.
Invading my space, he touches my bare hip. "What’s your name?" His voice carries a nasal undertone that sets my nerves on edge. The cloying scent of cheap body spray barely masks the sour tang of sweat as he leans in close.
I want to growl at him and rip his hand off my body, but instead I bare my teeth at him in a semblance of a smile. "Does it matter?"
He chuckles and shakes his head. I’m not sure if it’s because it doesn’t matter or because he can’t believe his good luck.
I push up onto my tip toes so I can speak directly into his ear. "You look like you want to have some real fun."
His hold on my hip tightens. "And you look like you know how to give it."
"There's a lot I'd like to give you," I whisper, a suggestive edge to my words.
His crooked nose twitches as he smirks, transforming his average features into something more sinister. "Show me," he challenges, a hint of arrogance in his tone.
I grab his hand, leading him toward the back exit without another word.
Outside, the alley's dim lighting casts long shadows. His hand slides to my waist, a touch that makes my skin crawl. But I keep up the act, pressing myself closer as if he's exactly what I want.
"Always wanted to do it outside, you know?" I murmur, my voice laced with false excitement. "Something about the danger of getting caught."
I don’t know what possesses me to keep talking, probably the booze. Or maybe part of me is worried Shadow won’t hear me—that I’ll be stuck having to deliver my promises to this repulsive man.
The man grins, taking the bait. "I like how you think."
I guide him deeper into the alley, my heart racing with the anticipation of what's to come. He's clueless—a lamb being led to the slaughter.
Just a few more steps and then Shadow will take over. For now, I play my role, a necessary act in the twisted play that is our survival.
Crooked Nose grabs my waist and traps me to the brick wall, no longer content to be led. He kisses me, his lips too slobbery and eager. He nips my lower lip too hard, the metallic taste of my blood filling my mouth.
I can’t pretend anymore and rip my head to the side, shoving him back. My forearm wipes hard against my lips as I try to get the taste of him off me.
"What’s wrong?" he mocks with open annoyance. "The little bitch changed her mind?"
I start to walk away, but he jerks me back, his other hand clutching a fistful of my hair. A high-pitched yelp of pain escapes me as I wince at his rough grasp.
"No one touches what is mine," a menacing growl comes from behind him.