Chapter 3
Ibalanced a tray of empty glasses above the chaos, weaving through sweaty bodies toward the bar. Vortex pulsed around me—bass thrumming through my bones, supernatural patrons shouting over music that could wake the dead.
“Rose! There you are,” a voice yelled, barely loud enough over the noise. Kaylee rushed over, breathing hard, and slammed her tray onto the bar’s edge beside mine.
“Kaylee. Hey.” I tried to muster my usual level of enthusiasm, but it fell flat.
I took in her rapid breathing and light sheen of sweat on her warm brown skin. She was sporting a deep burgundy lipstick and had straightened her hair to twice its normal length until it was sleek and shiny.
Like me, she was one of the few other humans employed at Vortex.
“I can’t wait for tomorrow night,” she gasped out, clutching her side and smiling. “I need a break from this shit. Did you guys need me to bring anything?”
“Oh, crap. I almost forgot.”
Her face fell. “Did something happen?” Taking my wrist, she pulled me toward the hallway leading to some of the VIP balcony boxes. It was only mildly quieter. “What’s wrong?”
“Vivi had to fly home earlier.”
“Wait…what? Is everything okay?”
“Things are fine. Cameron’s engagement fell through.”
“Oh, damn! What happened?”
“Her fiancé cheated.”
“That asshole! Ugh.”
“I know.”
“So…no girls night then? Unless… You guys still want to get together, maybe go out instead?”
“Actually, I’m going to pass. I might just pick up an extra shift instead.” Or just stay home and wrap my head around what I’d seen on the news.
“What? Ewww. Come on! Let’s go out. You need to let loose—”
“Ladies!” a voice barked, saving me from coming up with more excuses. Zach, also known as Eaden’s right hand, appeared. “Less talking, more working. Rose, boss needs to see you.”
Kaylee offered me a rueful smile. “Let me know if you change your mind. I’ll text the others.”
I nodded, following Zach to the back of the club and up a set of stairs. “What’s he want this time?”
“Fuck if I know.”
The first time I’d met Zach, all it took was a single blink to see what he was.
A shifter. A massive lion’s head had replaced his face, the transparent overlay shimmering in my vision before I’d blinked it away.
Like the other shifter enforcers that Eaden employed, Zach kept things under control at the club.
Vortex was filled with supernaturals. Not just staff, but patrons.
Located in the heart of Walton, it was a popular congregation spot.
We stopped at Eaden’s door and Zach knocked. It was quieter here, but the walls still throbbed with the pulse of the music. Eaden’s voice was muffled as he called for us. Zach, with his supernatural hearing, heard him perfectly as he opened the door and let me through.
Eaden’s office was almost like a study. Plush rugs, a gas fireplace, a wall of books, and nature paintings in gilded frames. When I blinked, his transparent wolf form overlaid his human form, but only briefly. He had dark skin and muscles for days.
Eaden’s eyes lingered on his phone a moment before he looked up at me. “Rose,” he said, his voice a deep rumble, “there you are. Zach, that’ll be all.”
“Right.” Zach backed out of the room, closing the door behind him.
“Everything good?” Eaden asked, eyeing me. He’d always had a way of seeing past the bullshit straight to the heart of me. It’s how he’d known something was up when he met me. How he’d guessed at what I’d been through. And probably why he’d offered me a job.
He’d run into me when I first took up MMA. He taught at the same gym, some of the more advanced classes. I’d known absolutely nothing about self defense when I’d started, and he’d been one of the subs when our instructor was out.
He’d guessed—rightly so—that I was a dancer simply because of how I moved. It just so happened he was short a couple of them. Coincidentally. I’ll never know if that was the truth or not.
It was only once I was more comfortable interacting with supernaturals, males in particular, that he’d allowed me to work the floor as a server instead. Something that gave me a much needed pay bump. Something that had helped boost my confidence and harden me—heal me, after Luke.
I was forever grateful to him for both opportunities.
Forcing a genuine smile onto my face, I shrugged and said, “I’m good enough, I guess. Did you need something?”
He hesitated. If he saw my lie, he chose not to call me on it. “I need you to dance tonight.”
I opened my mouth, then promptly closed it. “I’m on the floor tonight. Don’t you dare.”
“Micky didn’t show up. I’m short a dancer.”
I drew in a breath and released it, forcing my voice to calm.
“Well, did you call her? She’s probably just running late.
” He gave me a look. Because of course he’d called her.
I probably wouldn’t be here if he knew where she was.
It was unlike Micky to miss work without warning.
She was a shifter, and Eaden kept a tighter leash on his people—on everyone who worked at the club. We were like family.
Sighing, he leaned back. “I need you out there tonight, Rose. Just give me this, yeah?”
I was one of his best dancers. Paired with my vibrant pink hair, and my stage name of Candy, I was an attraction for all sorts of clientele, especially the inhuman.
“I’ve gotta make rent next week, Eaden. I can’t survive on dancing wages—you know this.” Vortex served expensive alcohol and entertained a higher echelon of clientele. They tipped well for their drinks. I needed those tips.
“I’ll give you a hundred an hour. Give me two hours and two solos. I’ve got a couple of high rollers on the balcony. I want you out there.”
My shoulders relaxed. “Two hundred?”
“As I said.”
“Fine.” I could work with that. I’d already made a decent amount of tips over the past two hours, and if I could finish the night out with a few more VIP sections, I’d be solid.
“Good. Go get ready. I want you on in fifteen.”
After changing into a gold crop-top and thong in the staff locker room, I made my way to the empty cage at the center of the club's floor.
There were ten platform cages in total, all gilded in gold and ridiculously lavish, with poles running through their centers.
They were filled with scantily clad males and females, most of whom were exotic supernaturals.
I supposed I was meant to be the exotic human specimen.
Our DJ, a fae named Tanner, nodded my way.
I gave him a quick half-smile. Tanner knew which songs I liked and which to play for my solos.
I climbed into my cage, shut the door behind me, and began to prowl.
The song died down before the flashing lights zeroed in on me. The rest of the club darkened.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped into my persona of Candy, shedding my worries about Professor Miller and everything else that had happened today. Something about being in the cage had always made me feel safe. Safe from everyone outside. Safe from my life. Safe to be whoever I wanted.
Candy was bold and seductive with her pink hair, gold lipstick, smoky eyes, and shimmer coating her skin—nothing like the cowering Rose who’d fled an abusive relationship, even if she’d healed over the past two years. Even if she’d come back as something stronger.
The transition finished and a new song came on—Candy’s song.
I crept around the pole in the center of the platform.
There was a lurch and the whole cage lifted off the floor, raising up a few feet to make me more visible to the crowd and balconies above.
Somewhere overhead, a machine shot fog into the air.
The world around me glowed, like something out of a dream, making the shimmer on my skin come to life.
I let the music flow over me, exhaling and loosening my limbs before sliding into motion.
The beat picked up and I reached for the pole, sweeping my body around and dragging myself along it, engaging my core.
My stilettos kicked into the air, and I settled into a well-known trance of twisting and spinning and contorting myself.
Losing myself to the music.
I loved how when I danced, I became a thing of fantasy. Someone desirable and unobtainable. Someone who didn’t carry scars.
As a child, I’d enjoyed ballet and other traditional forms before quitting those in favor of hip hop and jazz.
I’d moved on from there to pole and other exotic forms, which offered the kind of challenge that made me thrive.
Dance was one of the reasons I did so well with MMA.
I had decades of coordination working in my favor.
The crowd screamed, their arms lifted in the air, swaying with the beat.
Cellphones came out, recording videos that would pop up all over social media later with #cottoncandyvortex and other various hashtags synonymous with my persona.
I tossed my hair, making eye contact with anyone close enough to see, turning up the heat.
Every movement was calculated, controlled, sinuous.
My treacherous thoughts went back to the goblin in the coffee shop. What would he see if he were here, watching me? A woman fighting for her confidence? Or someone who had already won?
My solo came to an end, the music settling into a slower rhythm.
I continued dancing as the other caged dancers began again, effectively pulling some of the crowd's attention away. Now that I wasn’t blasted with spotlights, my eyes roamed the club.
It was packed tonight, people swarming the floor, dancing and drinking.
Eaden had mentioned the VIP balcony boxes, which was where most of our important clientele congregated. Those boxes were by reservation only, with a hefty price tag. Vortex was a favorite for supernaturals who wanted privacy. Ideal for the types of deals taking place here tonight.
My eyes slid over the faces of Walton’s richest patrons. Most were engaged in hushed conversations. All it took was a blink and a little intense staring to see what they were. Elves, fae, shifters, vampires…and even a few humans.
I faltered as my gaze passed over a head of shaggy blond hair peeking out beneath an all too familiar baseball cap.
Walton University’s WU logo front and center.
I did a double-take, my heart taking off into a gallop.
His face was shadowed, so I couldn’t make out his features.
But I could imagine them. Cold eyes, pointed chin, strong jaw.
My hand slipped, sending me careening down the pole.
Recovering, I moved into an intentional dive before pulling up.
I was known for my impressive flexibility and athleticism.
The surrounding crowd gasped and cheered, then clapped, delighted.
I threw them a seductive smile, playing it off, and continued dancing, swinging around for another look.
He was gone—like he’d never even been there.
Because I’d probably imagined him.
He was human. What business did he have in a supernatural club, anyway?
Anger replaced fear. I was so, so tired of looking over my shoulder.
Imagining Luke’s face in every head of blond hair.
If he hadn’t found me after two years, he wasn’t going to.
Professor Miller’s medallion was supposed to ensure that.
My pink hair and contacts merely a secondary safety precaution.
Determined to put this behind me, I continued dancing.
Swinging around, trying not to think of Luke—because he didn’t deserve a second of my attention—my eyes landed on a figure hidden in the darkness.
This time my breath hitched as a swarm of butterflies took off in my stomach.
I blinked, not quite certain what I was seeing. Afraid it was another illusion.
But it wasn’t.
The goblin from the coffee shop was watching me, leaning against the far wall of one of the VIP balcony boxes, with his arms crossed. Curious but nonchalant. Maybe he’d tracked me down to replace my shirt?
I huffed because, yeah, fat chance.
Our eyes met and held. His gaze was a dark challenge that had alarm bells ringing. A single encounter could be passed off as coincidence. But twice in one day?
I forced my paranoia to take a back seat. I needed to stop assuming the worst. He was a supernatural, after all. And this was a prime location for his kind.
Pulling my attention away, I focused on my work.
The second hour passed in a blur of bright lights and heightened breaths.
As my cage settled to the floor, I didn’t allow myself to look at the balcony boxes, to see if the goblin was still there.
Instead, I slipped away, moving through the mass of bodies to the other side of the club.
I keyed in the code and slipped into the quiet of the locker room.
My shoulders sagged and I collapsed on the bench beside my locker.
Every muscle was strung tight and aching, especially after my training earlier.
Catching my breath, I ditched my stilettos, then pulled on my black slacks and black boots.
I reached for the hem of my metallic gold top—
My phone began buzzing. I fished it out and frowned. Very few people had my number. The one I saw on the screen was one I didn’t recognize, with an area code I was unfamiliar with.
I slid the answer button.
“Vivi? Did you forget your charger? Is everything okay?” She should have landed by now.
A muffled female voice answered, too garbled to understand. It did kind of sound like her, but the signal was too choppy. I stood and moved around the room.
“Vivi? Can you hear me?”
“Rose?” I managed to make out the sound of my name. Shit. Had something happened to her? My heart began to race.
“Hello? Vivi? Is that you?”
The voice responded again, but it was too indistinct.
“You’re breaking up. Sorry, hold on.”
Heading for the back door, I pushed it open and kicked the doorstop into place. Darkness and cool spring air greeted my flushed skin as I emerged into the alley behind Vortex.
“Can you hear me?” I asked, staring at the opposite wall. “Vivi?”
The line went dead.
“Damn it!” I pulled my phone from my ear and looked down at the number again. What the hell?
A shoe scuffed beside me. I spun, but a hand clamped over my mouth before I could scream.
Arms locked around me like a cage. "Hello, Elle," a voice whispered against my ear.
My blood turned to ice as a million horrible memories crashed over me.
"Love what you did with your hair by the way. But I still prefer the blonde.”
A whimper sounded in the back of my throat, because I’d been completely wrong. It had been Luke in the VIP balcony box. He’d finally found me. And I’d walked right into his waiting arms.