Chapter 21 Riven #2
My gaze shifts back to Sloane and Lydia, and I’m relieved to see that they’re both still sitting in the booth, drinking champagne.
Lydia’s expression is starting to shift into something more mindless, and as always, Sloane’s remains the same.
I pause. Sloane is looking a little … tipsy.
I make a mental note not to let her out of my sight as I continue through the song, and the next one, and the next one.
Right before starting the fourth song, I hear Sabel’s voice in my earpiece requesting us to change it to a song from a previous album.
Sabel knows I’ll obey her order, because from up here in my fucking cage, I can’t say or do anything else.
I quickly relay the info to the guys, and we start the song.
This particular song has been coined as one of our more “sexy” anthems. I guess the fans aren’t exactly wrong.
The song isn’t only about intimacy, but of the darker parts of it.
It’s about the parts that are wholly intoxicating in a way that bleeds into obsession.
I can’t help my thoughts from going straight to the redhead in my direct line of sight.
I could have written this particular one just for her, my little nightmare.
The message is clear as day, and that’s why I have to let her go now. Otherwise, I’ll never let her go.
I shake the thoughts as my focus reorients to the crowd.
The crowd is now very into the music. I think that the correct word for what my eyes are seeing is orgy.
My gaze shifts to a couple on the dance floor who are dry humping, to a guy sucking on his girl’s exposed tit.
At least, I assume it’s his girl, because now she has her tongue down the throat of another guy behind her. Everyone is sweaty, half-naked, and …
I rapidly shift my attention back to Sloane, only to see an empty booth.
The immediate panic inside of me is nearly unbearable.
I mask it, literally and figuratively, as I search the dance floor and spot her among the crowd.
So much for masking the panic, because there’s a guy with his hands all over her.
He looks like a total douche with a name that’s probably Chad or Brad.
What’s even more strange is that Sloane isn’t fighting him off.
She isn’t pushing him away, yelling, or anything that she should be doing right now.
I look at her face and notice that she doesn’t appear dazed, but it does very little to ease the anger rising very quickly inside of me.
I do nothing but watch as he stands behind her and moves to the rhythm with her.
Her ass is moving against him, and his hands are trailing to places that he better not touch if he enjoys those particular body parts of his.
I can’t jump off the stage mid-song, so I reluctantly finish this one.
This is why Sabel wanted us to play it. What the fuck are they testing, the ability to influence sexual desire? That’s exactly it, I think.
Mission fucking accomplished.
We complete the song, and I call an intermission.
I tell the guys that I need a second, and they don’t question it.
Right now, I don’t care what Sabel questions.
She can fuck right off. I spot Sloane and Mr. Soon-to-be No-hands as he’s leading her off the floor and into a hallway.
I run in the opposite direction to intercept whatever the fuck he thinks he’s doing.
I fist my hands at my sides and run toward the back hallway, spotting them within seconds.
Chad, or Brad, has his arm around my girl.
She’s leaning into him, laughing at something that I’m sure is not that funny.
How much did she have to drink? It suddenly dawns on me that he could have drugged her.
She looks up as her laughter comes to a halt.
“What are you—” I don’t allow her to finish whatever dumb as fuck question she was about to ask me.
My hands are immediately around the guy’s throat, pulling him away from her and slamming him into the nearby wall.
I lift him until his feet dangle off the ground, and he reacts by clawing at my hands.
The panic in his tear-filled eyes sets my blood on fucking fire, and I know in this moment that I cannot allow him to keep breathing. It feels too good.
I nearly forgot that Sloane is still standing there when she yells, “Van! Let him go! Please!” Her voice cracks, and I don’t have to look her way to know that she’s crying. Doesn’t she realize that I’m trying to protect her? Why the fuck is she crying over him?!
I growl in response, but never take my eyes off my primary objective. I’m shaking, holding the guy up against the wall, debating with myself on whether I should listen to her. I don’t pause to analyze why I’m even considering it.
“Please.” Her voice shakes. “Please, just let him go. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let him touch me.” She’s moving closer to me now, and it causes me to flinch.
“Stay back, Sloane,” I snap, still shaking. Perhaps Professor Riven would be a better man, but I am not Professor Riven tonight. The guy in my hands is close to passing out now, his clawing and kicking growing weaker.
Sloane doesn’t budge. No. Instead, my little nightmare inches closer and closer, until her hand is resting on my arm. She speaks softly, “Van, it’s okay. Let him go. It’s okay. You’re … okay. I’m here.”
I feel my breathing and pulse start to slow at her words.
The strangest sense of peace and hope finds me as a light in the darkness seeps into my mind.
I choose to let him go. I squeeze a little harder until he’s fully out, letting him fall to the ground as I release him.
I recoil into myself. My hands come up to my mask on reflex to run them through my hair, only to find the hood of my cloak instead.
I pace the small hallway a couple of times in an attempt to understand what the fuck happened.
I stop, leaning against the opposite wall of a now passed-out Chad or Brad, and let myself slide down it.
To my surprise, Sloane moves to kneel in front of me with her hands on either of my knees.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay,” she assures me. I look up at her, expecting to see pity in those fucking eyes. All I see instead is … understanding. She moves beside me and sits back against the wall, bringing her knees to her chest as she rests her head on my shoulder.
I don’t know how long we’ll stay like this. All I know is that letting her go is going to be much harder than I thought.