Chapter 16
I jabbed at my phone screen with an urgency that bordered on desperation, my thumb pressing Elin's contact number again.
The device buzzed against my palm, the call connecting, only for me to be met with the greeting of her voicemail for the umpteenth time.
My jaw clenched tighter with each failed attempt to reach her, a storm brewing inside me as I envisioned the little notification of my missed calls piling up unanswered on her end.
"Dammit, Elin," I muttered under my breath, frustration simmering in my veins. The club’s ambient noise faded into a dull background hum as I paced the length of the dimly lit corridor, the phone pressed to my ear like a lifeline slipping through my fingers.
The last ring echoed in my ear before it cut abruptly to her recorded message, the familiar lilt of her voice grating against my nerves. "You've reached Elin. I can’t come to the phone right now, but leave your message after the beep."
"Call me back." The words came out sharper than I intended, but I couldn’t seem to care. With a sigh that did nothing to ease the tension coiling in my shoulders, I turned and leaned against the cool wall, allowing the shadows to swallow me whole. Why was this such a big deal? Why was I losing my shit because she wasn’t calling me back?
Why did I feel like a simple delayed shipment was worth all the turmoil that was going through my body?
My gaze swept across the crowded bar until it snagged on a silhouette that made my heart thrum an erratic beat.
There, perched elegantly on a barstool, was a woman with raven-black hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall of the darkest skies.
She was so similar to Elin, my Goddess. The way she commanded attention, respect, the set of her shoulders, the profile of her nose and jaw.
Yet, the notion seemed insane. Why would she masquerade in our club, a place where shadows clung to secrets?
Obviously, there were differences. The black hair, but a wig could easily account for that.
Her makeup was too heavy. Even when meeting with clients in a full face of makeup, she never wore it so heavily contoured or dramatic.
Not to mention the large, oversized earrings.
I’d never seen her wear earrings that hung down to her shoulders like that.
I shook it away, but each time I surveyed the club, my attention always came back to her. It left me unsettled; guilt gnawed at my conscience for feeling such attraction when my thoughts were consumed by Elin.
I lingered at the end of the bar, watching as a parade of men approached her, each attempting to charm and ensnare.
They leaned in close, whispering sweet nothings or bold propositions, their hands reaching out to graze an arm here, a lower back there.
She handled them with deft grace that only reminded me more of my Goddess, and with each unwelcome touch upon her skin, a fierce surge of jealousy flared within me.
As they continued to circle around her like sharks zeroing in on prey, possessive fury raged in my veins.
I felt a strong urge to step in, to declare her space as sacred and untouchable.
Yet, I hesitated, reminding myself that she wasn't mine, that it wasn't my role to intervene. Even if it was, Elin controlled me.
Still, my eyes refused to look away for hours, even as I brushed off women trying to grab my attention. My instincts reacted sharply to each man who dared invade my Goddess’s personal space.
Every time she offered a polite smile or a dismissive glance, sending them away unsatisfied, a silent snarl tugged at my lips.
Each of her gestures, each rebuff, fueled an internal struggle—a dangerous roar claiming she belonged to me.
But she wasn't Elin and she wasn't mine, nor was she anyone to me at all.
Then the woman laughed. A beautiful bell ringing from her. Elin.
The realization struck like a physical blow. Holy shit.
I was so fixated on Elin that I barely registered the presence beside me until a cloud of overbearing perfume invaded my senses. A blonde materialized at my side, her crimson lips curved into what she clearly thought was an irresistible smile.
"Buy a girl a drink?" she purred, leaning into my personal space, her hand coming to rest on my forearm.
I gave her a cursory glance, my attention immediately snapping back to the woman at the bar who had just rebuffed another suitor. "Not tonight," I replied, my tone clipped.
The blonde followed my line of sight, her smile faltering momentarily before returning with renewed determination. "She looks busy," she observed, sliding closer. "I'm not. And I promise I'm much more fun."
I shifted away, but she pursued, pressing her body against mine. Her fingertips traced patterns on my arm while I remained transfixed by the woman who had undone me. "Seriously, I'm not interested," I said more firmly, still not giving her my full attention.
"You keep staring at her like she's going to disappear," the blonde remarked, her voice taking on an edge. "What's so special? Is she your girlfriend?"
The question hit a nerve. What was that woman to me? Nothing. Everything. A phantom of my obsession.
The blonde mistook my silence for hesitation and grew bolder. Her hand slid down my chest then lower, her intentions unmistakable as her fingers brazenly reached for my dick.
Instantly, I slapped her away with enough force to make her gasp. Several heads turned our way, the sound cutting through the noise of the club.
Finally, I turned to face her fully, my eyes hardened to glacial points. "I'm. Not. Interested." I enunciated each word with deadly precision. "Leave or you will be escorted out."
Her face contorted with humiliation and anger. "Fuck you," she hissed, gathering what remained of her dignity. "You're not even that hot."
As she stormed off, I exhaled slowly, trying to regain my composure. The confrontation had drawn unwanted attention, including Elin’s. Her bright eyes met mine across the room, a curious mixture of amusement and appraisal in her gaze.
For a suspended moment, everything else receded into background noise. Then, she turned back toward the man who had stepped closer to her, wrapping his arm around her waist.
My focus sharpened as another one of the men sidled up beside her, his movements surreptitious but unmistakable to an observant eye.
With a flick of his wrist, something small and white disappeared into the amber liquid of her drink.
Panic knotted my insides. I was moving before I fully registered the action, shoving through the press of bodies.
"Hey!" I snapped, snatching the glass from her hand just as it hovered at the precipice of her lips. The liquid sloshed over the rim as I reached over the bar and dumped its contents down the sink.
"Excuse you!" she spat, whipping around, fire and fury in her eyes. But the anger faltered, morphing into shock as recognition dawned. "Gavriel? What the hell?"
I ignored her outburst, my focus narrowing on the coward slipping away into the crowd. "Clive, get security," I commanded tersely to the bartender, who nodded and reached for his radio without hesitation.
"What in the fuck has gotten into you?" Her voice held an edge that sliced through the ambient noise, demanding my attention.
"That fucker spiked your drink." My words were clipped, and I could feel the blood thundering in my ears, a violent drumbeat against my skull.
She brushed some of the liquid that had beaded on the chest of her shirt with one hand and with the other, reached over and grabbed a couple napkins to blot up the rest of it.
"Goddess." I found my voice finally, although it sounded foreign even to my own ears. “He spiked your drink.”
She froze, her focus flicking in the direction that he had strode off in. Fire burned in her eyes as she hissed, “He did what?”
“Clive already has security on him. We will handle it. Now, what are you doing here in disguise? Why didn’t you answer my phone calls?”
I watched Elin compose herself, her posture regal despite the commotion. The sight of her there, amid a sea of strangers who saw her as nothing more than an object to be claimed, ignited a fury within me that burned hotter than the strobe lights pulsating above.
"She’s not available this evening, gentlemen," I growled to the men still lingering with hungry eyes. My hand clenched into a fist at my side, and I felt the fabric of my jacket crease under the tension.
One who had clearly had a few drinks tried to move between us as he slurred, “That isn’t what her light says. Sa— Says she’s a sub looking to play. I’m just the alpha to show her the best night of her life.”
I rolled my eyes. “Anyone claiming to be an alpha clearly has a lot to learn. Leave before I have you removed as well.”
“Gavriel.” There was a warning in her voice that had me replaying the scene in my mind.
All those hands reaching out toward her, whispers of sweet nothings and lecherous offers.
Each touch was an affront, each smile thrown her way a challenge.
My stomach knotted with an uneasy blend of possessiveness and dismay.
Turning to face me, she arched an eyebrow in silent question. Her eyes, a stormy blend of irritation and intrigue, held mine. She knew the power she wielded; it encircled her like an aura, visible only to those who dared to get too close.
"Let's not make more of a scene," she scolded, though her voice barely rose above the noise. Softening her posture, she turned to those who were hanging around. “Thank you, boys, for the company, but my partner has arrived, and I must leave you all.”
Once they left, I stepped closer, acutely aware of the space between us shrinking. "You shouldn't be here like this," I said, failing to mask the concern lacing my words.