Chapter 5 #2
He doesn’t seem to notice my distraction, sliding into the barstool beside mine and sharing his name. I immediately forget it. I’m starting to think inviting him over was a mistake—I seem incapable of tolerating anyone in this mood.
Well, almost anyone.
“What’s a pretty girl like you doing sitting all alone?” he asks as the bartender delivers my fresh drink. His body curves closer, and I have to resist physically recoiling.
Jesus, Cass, it’s just a guy trying to flirt, not an explosive device.
“Well, I had backup, but my friend just left. I figured I’d finish this drink and head home.” I wrap my palm around the cool glass.
“No! You can’t leave me yet, pretty girl. I haven’t gotten the chance to know you!” His breath hits my ear as he moves closer, hand settling on my chair back. The sudden invasion of my space sets me on edge.
“I don’t know, it’s getting pretty late.” I smile awkwardly, gently pulling away from his touch. He doesn’t seem to notice the delicate extraction attempt, keeping his arm around me.
Great.
I always seem to attract the touchiest creep in the room. I start strategizing my escape when he taps my shoulder urgently, pointing across the room.
“Is that the friend you were with?”
His finger leads to a random woman, walking towards a dark hallway across the room.
“Uh...no. No idea who that is.” What an odd question. I start to turn back, but movement in a far booth catches my attention.
Mikhail.
As if sensing my gaze, his eyes flick up to meet mine. His expression is frustratingly unreadable, but he doesn’t look away. The intensity of his focus makes me squirm. I watch, mesmerized, as his attention drops to the arm wrapped around my waist, and his brows furrow into a deep V.
I spin around like I’ve been caught doing something wrong. That’s it—I need to leave. This whole night was a mistake.
No longer interested in making the most of my club pass, I lift my drink and take several deep pulls, intending to finish and go.
The alcohol hits sharp and fast, washing away my lingering embarrassment.
I didn’t do anything wrong, so I shouldn’t even be embarrassed, but something about the deep frown that fell over Mikhail’s face makes me uneasy.
Anyway, it’s not like I’m looking for a fling to bring home tonight.
The weight around my shoulders reminds me just how close this guy is creeping toward me, and my final straw breaks. I set the glass down and try to pull away from the stranger, but his grip tightens despite my efforts.
“Okay. Get off me.”
But my voice comes out as a raspy whisper, the words echoing strangely in my head before reaching my ears.
And he’s still touching me.
I grip the bar’s edge and suck in a deeper breath.
“Get. The fuck. OFF.” This time, I sound louder, thankfully. He gives me minimal space, looking around anxiously like I’ve caused a scene.
Good.
My mouth is dry, and my tongue is struggling to find moisture to wet my lips. Meanwhile, my head feels like it’s swimming through molasses, throbbing with my increasingly rapid heartbeat.
Faster and faster.
Somewhere in the depths of my consciousness, I know something is terribly wrong.
Gut-wrenching fear washes over me as I catch the man watching from my peripheral vision. Waiting. His wrist rests casually on my bicep, ready to catch me if I try to run.
My tongue brushes the roof of my mouth, tasting something that wasn’t there before.
Then my heart skips.
He drugged me.
The realization loops through my mind like a broken record. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I force myself to breathe slowly, unwilling to make this easy by hyperventilating and passing out.
He’s still watching. I can feel his oily gaze sliding over my face. My heart rate blurs and throbs—
I exhale carefully. Suck in fresh air.
Then flash the most flirtatious smile I can manage.
“How about another drink? To get to know each other better?” I’m grateful the words don’t come out slurred.
I trail my fingers up his chest, looking into his shit-brown eyes as they blur out of focus. This might be my one chance.
His lips brush my ear again. Bile rises in my throat.
“Course, babe. Coming right up.”
I swallow hard, preparing my melting muscles for action.
Focus, Cass.
The second his attention shifts to the bartender, I shove my empty glass across the counter. It crashes to the floor, crystal exploding and scattering in glittering pieces.
Using the distraction, I kick off my chair and stumble toward the room’s center. A hand contacts my waist, but I lurch sideways, avoiding the grasping obstacle.
My head spins freely, the world becoming a darkening kaleidoscope of movement. But somehow, my body knows exactly which direction to go.
Forward.
Toward the darkness in the corner booth.
Toward the only safe haven I can think of.
Toward Mikhail.
My breaths come in fast pants now, each one barely reaching my lungs. Only the terror pumping through my blood keeps me moving as I curve around stools and collide with strangers, driven by the knowledge of what it would mean to lose this fight.
I’m fading fast when I finally see him, casually relaxed in his corner seat—until his head turns, his eyes meet my panicked ones.
Tears I can barely feel slip down my cheeks.
I try to say his name, but numbness takes over.
Mikhail becomes a liquid haze of violence and movement, rising from the booth in a beautiful blur of darkness. Warmth spreads through my chest at the sight.
I’m safe.
I can breathe.
I—
My wrist is snagged from behind, pulling me away from safety. A helpless whine escapes my throat. Pain shoots through my wrist as I yank once, twice.
The grip loosens just as I crash into a warm embrace.
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” His voice is a comforting rumble against my hair.
Not the revolting pitch of my attacker, but something that resonates deep within me.
I try to lift my head, but darkness edges my vision, my balance failing.
“He…drugged me,” I whisper between gasps.
His grip tightens around me like armor. I burrow deeper into his chest, craving the familiarity of his warm cologne.
My next breath lasts an eternity as I inhale his scent and finally let the colors bleed from my sight.