13. CHAPTER 8
SAYLOR
Kynlee and I walk into Velum, and the bass hits my chest before my eyes even adjust to the dark.
The pills kicked in about twenty minutes ago and everything feels more intense, other than the thoughts I want to escape.
The lights are low and pulsing, the air is warm, and my body already wants to move.
I haven’t texted Axl in four days. Eleven unread messages sit on my phone, and I haven’t opened a single one. I learned from Justin that they’d all been pulled into some work for the fucking Ravens. So at least he hasn’t shown up at my house.
If he wants to find me, he can see where I am. He can take a long look at me in my six-inch hooker heels and pink dress that barely covers my ass.
“You look hot as fuck tonight, by the way.” Kynlee hooks her arm through mine as we cut through the crowd.
She’s in a red halter dress that barely covers her chest with an opening that goes down to her stomach.
We both look ready to have some fucking fun with whoever is here tonight.
“If your psycho Talon shows up, he’s going to lose his goddamn mind. You still haven’t responded to him?”
“He’s not my anything.” It’s the truth. Being a Talon’s whore will give him the ability to fuck me and that’s it. “And no I haven’t. Fuck him. I don’t care if he shows up.”
“Sure you don’t.” She tugs me toward the bar. “That’s why you keep glancing toward the entrance.”
She’s not wrong. I hate that she’s not wrong.
We get drinks from the bar and find a spot near the edge of the dance floor.
The music is loud enough that I don’t have to think, which is the whole fucking point of being here.
Kynlee hands me a shot, and we throw them back before chasing them with whatever overpriced cocktail the bartender made us.
The pills and the alcohol are mixing now, and my body feels warm and loose. I want to dance. I want to feel a hot body against mine and forget all about the nightmare that I had again last night.
“Come on.” Kynlee grabs my hand and pulls me into the crowd.
The beat drops and we move together, hands in the air feeling the music.
I close my eyes and let the beat take over.
This is what I needed. To feel free and let my body move and not think about anything else going on in our fucked-up world.
I’m halfway through the second song when I feel hands on my waist. I open my eyes. He’s cute and tall with dark hair. He’s got money written all over him, from his watch to his shoes, and he’s smiling at me in a way that tells me he thinks he’s already won the chance to fuck me.
I don’t push him off. I let him pull me closer. His hands slide down to my hips, and I press my body into his, grinding to the music.
Fuck Axl.
It doesn’t take long before he grips my hip tighter and holds me in place, so I feel exactly how hard he is through his jeans.
His mouth drops to my ear, and he says something I can’t hear over the music.
I don’t care what it is. He’s warm and he wants me.
And I am going to pretend he doesn’t have some sort of fucked-up urge to kill everyone in the room or have any association to the Ravens.
Kynlee catches my eye from a few feet away. She’s dancing with some guy of her own, but she’s watching me with raised eyebrows and a grin that tells me to go for it.
Then her face changes. Her eyes shift to something behind me, and the grin drops.
I don’t have to turn around to know who’s there. My body knows before my brain does. The guy behind me is still grinding against me, still thinking he’s got a shot. He has no fucking idea what’s about to happen to him.
I keep dancing. I don’t turn around. If Axl wants to stand there and watch another man’s hands on me, he can suffer through it the way I’ve put up with his shit for years.
If he wants it, he’s going to have to take it.
A few seconds go by, and then the man is ripped off me so fast that I stumble forward and have to catch myself on the shoulder of someone dancing next to me.
By the time I spin around, Axl has the guy by the front of his shirt with one fist. He doesn’t hit him.
He just holds him there and leans in. Whatever he says makes the color drain from the guy’s face.
The dude’s hands come up in surrender, and Axl shoves him backward into the crowd.
The man lands on his ass in front of everyone.
Priest is behind him, chuckling like he always does when he watches whatever fucked-up shit Axl does. It makes me wonder what secrets Priest is hiding.
Axl turns to me. His jaw is set, and his blue eyes are narrowed and furious.
His chest rises and falls, and he looks like he’s about to rip everyone in this room apart.
He’s in jeans and a black t-shirt stretched across his muscular chest. The ink is visible on his forearms and up to his neck.
He and Priest look like the deadliest men in the room, and the crowd has backed away to leave space around us.
If he expects me to cower or feel like I’ve done anything wrong, he’s going to be disappointed. I plant my heels and stare up at him. My pulse is pounding in my throat, and the pills are making it look like he’s swaying in front of me.
He moves closer and puts his lips to my ear. “You think you can ignore me? That you can grind my pussy on another man’s dick?”
Fuck him. But my traitorous body is doing that thing it always does when he’s close to me, and the pills are making it worse.
His cologne takes over, and his breath is hot on my neck.
I can feel the heat coming off his body even though he hasn’t touched me yet, and I want to cover myself in it. But I know better.
I put both hands on his chest and shove. He doesn’t move. He just stares back at me with an amused smirk.
“Don’t fucking touch me.” I have to scream it over the music, but I don’t care who hears me. “You don’t get to show up acting like you own me.”
His hand wraps around the back of my neck, and he pulls me into his chest. My face presses against the fabric of his shirt. I can feel his heart pounding as hard as mine. His grip tightens at my nape and his mouth is back at my ear.
“I do fucking own you. You want to tell me why my girl is out here acting like she doesn’t know who the fuck she belongs to?”
“I’m not your fucking girl.” I dig my nails into his shirt and push again. His arm tightens around my waist. “I’m not your anything until you carry me out of those woods, and if you manage to catch me, I’ll pity fuck you for the year because I have to.”
The drugs are making me feel invincible—like I can take on the world and these men who think that, because they have dicks, they get to control everything. A mental flash of Axl forcing me to my knees and fucking my mouth makes me sway into him. Fuck. I’m a complicated slut.
His hand slides from my neck to my jaw, gripping it hard so I can’t look away from him. His eyes drop to my mouth and then back up, and the smirk is gone. What’s left is something worse. He doesn’t find this amusing anymore.
“I thought we talked about what I think about brat bullshit.” He licks the corner of my mouth where my lips meet, and I open for him. I want him to fucking kiss me. “You want to try that again? Your body isn’t a very good liar, even if that pretty mouth is.”
His thumb drags across my lower lip. I bite down on it before I can stop myself, and his eyes go dark.
“There’s my little heathen.” He lets his other hand run between my thighs, and I whimper when his fingers brush along my wet thong while people dance all around us. “You can lie to yourself all you want, baby. But your cunt has already made this decision for you.”
I hate him. I hate that he’s right. I hate that his fingers are between my thighs and I’m fighting not to grind against his hand in the middle of a crowded club.
I hate that the pills have stripped away my good sense and all I want is for him to push my thong to the side and make me come right here in front of everyone.
But I ignored his ass for a reason.
“Are you going to ask me where my brother is?” I grab his wrist between my thighs, stopping his fingers from moving. “Because you’re using me to get to him. That’s all I am to you. A way to fuck with Justin.”
He lets his hand drop. His jaw works before his expression hardens. He grips my throat again, lowering his face to mine. “You think I’ve spent three years watching you, killing for you, and losing my fucking mind with this obsession for you because of Justin Carter?”
“He told me—”
“I don’t give a fuck what he told you.” He says the words through gritted teeth. “Your brother can rot in hell, for all I care, but it doesn’t change that you’re fucking mine. And it doesn’t have a goddamn thing to do with him.”
I stare up at him with his hand on my throat. His face is inches from mine, and the music is pounding behind us. I’ve pissed him off and I don’t give a shit. He’s pissed me off too.
“I came here to dance,” I tell him, knowing that this conversation isn’t going to go anywhere else. I want to believe him, but there’s no way to know what the fuck he or my brother are going to do.
He stares at me. I’m certain he’s working on how he’s going to drag me out of here. His thumb presses against my pulse, and he lowers his lips to my ear. “Then dance.”
He lets go of my throat and steps back. But he doesn’t leave.
He grabs my hips and turns me around so my back is against his chest. His arms wrap around my waist, and his mouth drops to my ear again.
“But you’re dancing with me. And if another man looks like he wants to touch you, I’ll break every bone in his body. ”
His body moves behind mine, and I let him pull me into the rhythm. His hips press against my ass, his hands grip my waist, and I hate how perfectly I fit against him. He’s hard, and I can feel every inch of him through my dress. I know he wants me to feel it.
“I’m still pissed at you,” I tell him over my shoulder.
“Good.” His teeth graze my earlobe. “I like you pissed and grinding on my dick.”
I like myself grinding on his dick too. That’s the fucking problem.