Chapter 16
VESSA
Compared to what I've seen of wolf country so far, Dominik's nightclub is by far another dimension. A cyberpunk dream.
Cora sashays over to the first bar we lay eyes on, draped in what appears to be glittering radioactive foliage.
It's already surrounded by drunken patrons, pushing their way to the counter.
Thumping electronic music carries us through a sea of flushed faces in their early to mid-twenties, illuminated by green and blue strobe lights.
I feel the heavy bass pulsing through the room, rumbling through my own body.
"There's another bar up there along with this really cool futuristic game room," Cora points out. "Oh, and Dominik's private office, too. But none of us have ever seen it."
"That's because we have enough self-respect to not fall for his ruse," Gemma barks over her shoulder, two other girls from Bleeding Sun at her heel.
My eyes bulge at the sight of her cropped skirt. “How old are you again?”
A tingle pricks at my neck, feeling a new gaze locked on my back. Growing closer.
Another cadet howls out, "Who's down for a shot?"
Cora applauds the idea. She gives the scrappy bartender our order and pulls out her credit card. Before she can hand it over, a firm hand comes down on the counter. Dominik. He instructs him to ring her up on the house tab.
Gemma’s leggy blonde friend beams with hungry eyes as she drinks in the younger, more polished Skornokovy in his dapper grey suit.
She elbows the girl seated at the bar, who instantly drops her phone in her lap.
Dominik doesn't notice their ogling. Instead, his eyes rake over the plunging neckline of my bold gunmetal dress.
I realize how different I must look to him.
My pin-straight hair has been curled, teased, and pulled half up to reveal heavy hoop earrings.
I raise my voice over the pounding music. "This is really impressive, Dominik.”
The handsome club owner nods. An undisclosed man at his side kindly takes our coats for us and slips behind the bar.
“I could say the same thing about that appetizing dress of yours,” he drawls. “You girls are asking for trouble tonight.”
Cora rolls her eyes, distributing the shot glasses. “Don’t mistake that for an invitation.”
A chuckle rolls off Dominik's lips just as he dips his head to whisper in my ear. "If you're not enjoying yourself as much as you'd like to be, you can come find me upstairs.” With that, he slips his hand over mine and raises it to his soft lips.
My brows flick to my hairline. I’m sure he isn't seriously trying to entice me, but Cora is displeased by the bold suggestion. She grabs my arm and tugs me back to her side, frowning. Others around the bar are gawking at the two of us, realizing who is in the grey suit, flirting with me.
A warning growl rips out of Cora's throat. "Are you out of your mind?”
Dominik brushes her off like a piece of lint. "Simmer down, sweetheart. Remember who's bankrolling you tonight."
“Don’t you already have enough ammunition to piss your brother off?” she spits back, unable to get the last word in as he turns and saunters away from our group.
My cheeks flare as we clink our shot glasses together. A round of tequila follows, this shot burning more furiously than the first. I loop my other arm through Cora’s and together, we rush over to the dance floor to join the lively throng.
Two shots in, I'm almost annoyed at how much fun I'm having.
Annoyed that for years, I've missed out on all of this—an exhilarating experience that most girls at university are used to having all semester long.
For the first time in months, I think of Iseman.
Of all the ridiculous parties I could've gone to, the wild boys I could've sloppily made out with. Gods, I haven’t kissed anyone in years. Haven’t slept with anyone since .
. . the night Mom died. And even that was shit.
Cora’s arms hang loosely over my shoulders, her head whipping back and forth to the hammering beat of the electric music.
“None of us blame you for leaving, you know,” she slurs.
“I probably would feel the same if overnight I suddenly became the center of attention. Becoming Luna Superior . . . it’s not a role anyone should consider lightly. You’re so young.”
“Thanks, Cora,” I say. And gods, do I mean it.
When the song ends and fades into the next, she slips out of the crowd to get us another round of drinks.
The upbeat tempo relents, paving the way for something more seductive.
This new song has me running my hands along my body, swaying and rolling my hips more aggressively than I have all night.
The harder I dance, the more I sweat, insecurities shaking loose.
Dancing opposite of me, Gemma looks up to the balcony, stiffening.
Before I can ask her what’s wrong, she and her friend trudge off.
I trace the line of sight, landing on a pair of glowing green eyes that belong to none other than Dominik.
My heartbeat accelerates as he studies me like a viper.
But my body refuses to stop dancing. I am devoted to the music, hips rocking in time to the tantalizing pulse of the synthesizers.
In a sober state I would never admit this, but I love that he watches me move.
That he can't take his eyes off me. This dance floor is my stage to command. It’s addicting, the satisfaction of watching audiences eat out of the palm of your hand.
For once, it isn’t an act. I’m free to be whoever the music entices me to be. Yes. Free . . .
Dominik bites his bottom lip. Others too are taking notice, including a broad male with icy blond hair.
I grab his hand and pull the stranger close.
He spins me around and grips my waist, encouraging me to grind into him.
I look back up at Dominik as we move our hips together, stoking the desire in his carnal gaze.
But my thoughts wander to Axe. Surely, he doesn't frequent provocative places like this. No, he would prefer to run his hands over my body in private, far away from any potential voyeurs. If it were up to me, I’d have him touch me right here. Right now.
Hot breaths tickle my neck. As the stranger’s groin stiffens from the friction of my movements, I wonder if the Alpha would tear out his spine for it. I wonder what level of possessiveness he’s capable of. I lick my lips at the thought, grinding harder.
The stranger leans down. Asks for my name. I whisper it to him and glance back up to the balcony. Dominik has vanished from his post. The male hums in response, a deep vibration that ripples through his chest. At that, I realize this stranger is no man at all, but a lycan.
"Vessa," he whispers, nipping at my earlobe. The sensation is delicious. "Can I take you somewhere where there's a little more privacy?"
I feign a giggle, telling him I should probably go find the group I came with. The stranger pouts, pleading for one more dance.
The next song that cues up is by one of my favorite artists.
Alas, I cave. My eyes scan the crowd again for Cora and the girls, but from the dead center, my short height is a disadvantage.
My partner drops his head and leans in to kiss me, but I playfully deny him by spinning away, catching a glimpse of a scorpion tattooed along his neck. He growls, snatching my elbow.
That's when I feel it: a kernel of fear. Without a real plan to ditch him, I whirl around to scold the stranger. He crushes me into his torso with a thick forearm, pulling us deeper into the crowd. Shit—where are the girls?
Rolling my silver bracelets between my fingers, I finally get a good look at him.
And it paralyzes me. Neon eyes gaze back, along with a pair of sharp canines.
As if I’ve been caught in a scorpion’s snare, he strikes, blowing a cloud of yellow powder in my face. I fall to my knees instantly, gasping.
What the hell was that?
All at once, my perception is destabilized by an oscillating blur.
The entire room quakes, swallowed by a cacophony of vibrations.
When I manage to catch my breath, I stagger to my feet.
The music is swelling around me, the dark melody materialized.
Alive. I watch as the notes float overhead, disappearing in the fluorescent lights, their intensity like the aurora on steroids.
All around, the bass pounds in my head and chest, reverberations syncopating with my heartbeat.
As I flitter away from the dance floor, someone taps my shoulder and offers me a drink.
I clink my glass against his and ask if he's seen either of my friends.
He shakes his head, and I disappear through a wave of sweaty bodies, dancing with a few of them as I weave in and out of the crowd.
Everyone around me is smiling, laughing, carefree and buzzing with euphoric energy. Even my skin is shimmering.
Behind the next bar is a stairway which leads to the observation level.
Several people stand around privately conversing or exchanging passionate kisses.
In the furthest, darkest corner I spot the lycan with the scorpion tattoo looming over another woman.
As she holds out her arm to him, he drags his nose along her forearm, taking every ounce of the magical yellow powder into his system.
More, I decide. I want more of that heavenly concoction.
Stepping into the dark, I place my hand on his shoulder. Smiling, he peers up at me. The female he's holding cackles, a pair of her own fangs emerging. I stumble backwards when I finally get a good look at her, equally as unsettling.
“My, my," she coos. "Don’t you smell delicious.”
Scorpion captures my wrist, ignoring the singe of silver as he licks a heated stripe along my skin. I gasp, snatching my arm back.
“Join us,” he purrs. “One more hit and I guarantee I’ll have you coming for hours. I’ll bet you taste like the sweetest dreams, don’t you?”