Chapter 19
Isashayed onto the stage, my hips swaying to the pulsing beat. The lights were hot on my bare skin as I twirled around the pole, my thoughts drifting as they always did, hardly noticing the men nearest the stage waving their hard-earned cash at me.
It”d been three months since I”d seen Tristan fall right in front of me. Three months since I”d fled with Logan down that dark road and eventually to the neon lights of Vegas. We”d found a cheap one-bedroom apartment not far from the club where I worked, and Logan had just enough saved up from the money Gino was sending him to get us by until we both started working. He pulled it out of the bank as soon as we got out of the city and closed down his account, as did I. It”d been pretty lean for a while, but we”d survived, and we were happy to still be together.
Although, every once in a while, I”d catch Logan quietly looking at something on his phone with a strange expression on his face before he turned it off and shoved it in his pocket. And when I”d ask what he was looking at, he”d never tell me.
After a while, I”d stopped asking.
We thought we could disappear here in sin city, start fresh. I started dancing again, and Logan found a job waiting tables, helping out with bills until we had enough saved again so he could get back into school. I didn”t lie to him this time about where I went or what I was doing to earn our rent. I didn”t see the point. Not anymore. And he was right. He was a grown man. I didn”t need to protect him. We protected each other. And we slowly built our new lives.
But even in the city that never sleeps, I couldn”t escape the nightmares that haunted me.
The club I worked for was nice, and the manager was good to me, but I found that dancing was different for now. Before Tristan, when the men who watched me shouted lewd comments when the bouncers weren”t watching, it never bothered me. Now it did. And when they offered me obscene amounts of money to strip privately for them—or more—I felt like I was doing something wrong. I felt dirty. I felt ashamed.
Because I couldn”t stop thinking about him.
To Tristan, I wasn”t some nameless stripper, a piece of meat to be consumed and forgotten. I wasn”t a whore, selling my body to the highest bidder. I wasn”t a replacement for a dead wife, a pale imitation of a lost love.
No, he”d seen through all that. He”d seen me. The real me. Luna. The girl beneath the glitter and the lies. And in doing so, he”d forced me to see him too. Not just as a bodyguard or a ruthless killer, but as a man. Someone who, against all odds, had survived horrifying things. We both had. And our twisted parts had fit together to make us whole.
He”d killed my mother.
And I”d killed my father.
Somehow, in my head, that made us even.
And now when I bared my body to strangers, the memories I lost myself in were memories of him. I didn”t want to see anyone else.
With my back to the audience, I slipped out of the sequined bra I wore, leaving the G-string. As I turned back around, I scanned the crowd, as was my habit, searching for someone who would never be there.
My gaze caught on a figure in the shadows. Dark hair, dark eyes, black suit. My heart stuttered in my chest…
And then I forced myself to look away as I fought down the sudden rush of tears that hit me. Every night, I thought I saw him. Watching me intensely the way he always did. And every night my heart was crushed all over again when it wasn”t him. But I had to keep my shit together. I couldn”t ruin my makeup. Sad girls didn”t make good tips. And I fucking needed those tips.
Forcing a smile, I dropped to my knees and crawled slowly toward the front of the stage—and the bald guy with the twenty-dollar bill.
When the song ended, I grabbed my top and my tips off the stage and let the next girl take over.
”Luna!” My manager”s voice cut through the music. ”You”ve got a private dance request in the back.”
I nodded as I made my way down the side stairs and headed toward the velvet curtain that blocked off the area where we could do more than strip, if the money was right and only if we chose to.
My boss grabbed my arm as I passed. ”This guy just gave me fifty thousand dollars for an hour of your time.”
”What?” Surely, I didn”t hear him right.
”Fifty-fucking-thousand, Luna.”
Although I could hear the excitement in his voice and practically see the dollar signs in his eyes, there was an undercurrent to his tone that put me on guard. ”What exactly are you expecting me to do for that money?”
”Whatever the fuck he wants, as long as you”re okay with it. But listen,”—he leaned in close to me—”I”m gonna have Jack stand right outside. If you need him, you yell loud.”
Jack was our largest and scariest bodyguard. Only half joking, I asked, ”Who the hell do you have in there?”
”Just be careful with this one. I don”t like the look in his eyes.”
Great. Just what I needed. But I wasn”t about to turn down fifty grand. I handed him my tip money to hold for me and moved past him.
”Yell loud!” he called after me.
I raised my hand to let him know I”d heard him and pushed aside the curtain, stepping into the dimly lit room. As my eyes adjusted to the soft lighting, I searched the room for my customer.
”Aren”t you going to dance for me, bambolina?”
For a moment, I couldn”t breathe.
It wasn”t possible.
Was I finally losing my mind? I closed my eyes. If I was, I never wanted to be sane again.
”Don”t do that, Luna. Don”t shut me out.”
My chest caved in, and my throat was thick with tears that overflowed and slid down my cheeks.
”Open your eyes.”
”I don”t want to,” I whispered. I knew he couldn”t hear me over the music, but it didn”t matter, because I was going insane. He couldn”t be here. He was dead. I fucking saw him die.
That dark spicy scent that reminded me of the forest at night filled my nose, and a mournful, keening cry rang in my ears. It took me a moment to realize it was coming from me.
”Open your beautiful fucking eyes. I want to see them.”
My eyes snapped open.
The man standing in front of me was someone I never thought I”d see again. Wearing an expensive black suit with a black button-down shirt and dress shoes, he looked exactly the same. A little thinner, maybe. But so was I. I wanted to throw my arms around him and never let go. I wanted to turn my back on him and run away. Because this couldn”t be happening.
”Tristan,” I whispered.
Oh, my god. He was alive.
It wasn”t possible. ”But I saw you…” My words faded away. I couldn”t make myself say it. My heart thundered in my chest as I stared at him, still unable to believe my own eyes.
I didn”t know whether to laugh, cry, or scream. I wanted to touch him, to prove to myself that he was real, but I couldn”t seem to make myself move. Because as much as my body ached for him, I couldn”t forget all the things he”d done.
And yet I craved his touch. I craved him. I”d missed him so fucking much. The darkest, most twisted parts of me wanted to lose myself in him the way I had before. But I couldn”t. I wouldn”t.
Would I?
”Dance for me, Luna.” His deep voice broke through my spiraling thoughts, and I shivered. ”Now.”
As if compelled by some unseen force, I found myself moving, my body responding to his softly spoken command like it always had. I turned my back to him, trying to collect myself, but it was impossible. Not when I could feel the heat of his gaze burning into my skin.
Slowly, I began to sway my hips to the music, running my hands up my sides and into my hair. I arched my back, remembering the way he used to study me, the hunger in his eyes. The way he”d touch me after, his hands and mouth consuming me until I shattered in his arms.
I wanted that again. I wanted him again.
I turned back around, meeting his dark gaze. In the low light, his eyes looked black, fathomless. He watched me with that predatory stillness he had, like a panther waiting to strike. And, oh god, I wanted to be his prey.
Breath catching in my throat and silent tears wetting my cheeks, I slid my hands over my breasts and down my stomach to the thin strings holding up my barely-there bottoms. I hooked my thumbs beneath the fabric, toying with it, teasing him. Daring him.
His jaw clenched, and I knew I was playing with fire. But I didn”t care. I”d already been burned by him. What was one more scar? Maybe someday, I”d have so many that my pain would match his.
My pulse raced as I caught and held Tristan”s dark gaze, playing the seductress, every nerve in my body attuned to him. I wanted to ask him how he”d survived, wanted to ask him so many things, but I couldn”t seem to form the words. So I danced.
For him.
Slowly, I turned, putting my back to him once more. I ran my hands over my hips, my ass, knowing he watched every move I made. My blood raced, sensitizing my skin, and arousal pulsed between my thighs.
The song changed, something slower, sexier, and I matched my movements to the sensual beat. I could feel Tristan”s eyes on me, lighting my skin on fire as it traveled over my body. It made me shiver, made me ache.
Suddenly, he was behind me, so close I could feel the heat of his body against my back. My breath caught in my throat, and I froze.
”Don”t stop,” he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. ”I like watching you dance.”
A whimper escaped my throat at the rough, deep sound of his voice. I began to move again, swaying from side to side. He moved with me, his body brushing against mine, making me tremble.
I wanted his hands on me. I wanted him to touch me everywhere all at once. Wanted to feel the wet heat of his mouth and the sharp nip of his teeth when he lost control. I didn”t care that we were in the back of the club where anyone could walk in. I didn”t care about the other girls or my manager or the bouncers. I didn”t care about anything except the way Tristan made me feel.
Alive. Cherished.
Loved.
He gripped my hips, his fingers digging into my skin, and pulled my back against his front. The hard ridge of his arousal pressed against my ass, and I bit back a moan. I wanted to grind into him, but I held myself still, waiting.
His lips brushed the curve of my shoulder, making me shudder. ”I”ve missed you, bambolina,” he whispered. ”Have you missed me?”
A sob caught in my throat as I turned and threw myself into his arms.
He stiffened with a pained sound, but I couldn”t let him go. ”I thought I”d lost you,” I choked out, my fingers clutching at the back of his jacket. ”You were shot! So many times! I saw the blood…” I trailed off, the memories of that night hitting me full force.
At first, he just stood there with his arms hanging at his sides. Then, ever so slowly, his hands slid over my hips and around my back until I was fully embraced in his arms. He shuddered as he buried his face in my hair and breathed deep. ”Shh,” he murmured, his hand stroking down my back. ”Don”t cry. I”m here. I”ll always come for you, Luna.”
”I hate you,” I confessed.
”I know,” he whispered.
He pulled back just enough to look down at me, his hungry dark eyes searching mine. ”But I won”t let you go, Luna,” he said roughly. ”I can”t.”
”I thought I”d never see you again. I thought...” A sob caught in my throat. ”Tristan, I thought you were dead.”
He ran his hand down my arm, his fingers curling around my wrist. Lifting it to his mouth, he pressed a soft kiss to the pulse point there. ”I”m not that easy to kill.”
”But Gino shot you so many times. I saw it. I felt the bullets hit you.”
”Is that why you ran from me?” His eyes flashed with something dark and possessive.
”I thought you were dead,” I repeated.
”Even in death, you”re mine, Luna,” he growled. ”You”ll always be mine.”
I shivered at the intensity in his voice. God help me, I believed him.
He pulled me close again, his mouth crashing down on mine in a scorching kiss, devouring me like a man starved. I melted into him, my fingers tangling in his hair as I kissed him back with all the sorrow and anger and desperation I”d felt these last few months. His tongue swept into my mouth, claiming me, consuming me, and I moaned.
My surrender was a shattering of illusions, a stripping away of the fa?ade I”d tried to cling to since I”d met him. The truth was, in the raw, unfiltered reality of Tristan”s arms, I found a twisted liberation, a dark freedom that both thrilled and consumed me.
With a shuddering sigh, I allowed his darkness to claim me.