42
The dull ache in my head refuses to relent.
I’m slipping again. A pounding drums hard against my skull.
I'm teetering on the edge of being awake and asleep.
The vibration of my phone jars me. I wipe the saliva from my mouth and scrub my hands along my face.
The alcohol won again. Damn easier than being present when it comes to Mortensen.
I grip the edge of the nightstand feeling around for my phone to turn off the incessant beeping. My phone clatters onto the hard floor next to me.
“Fuck,” I curse. I zombie forward and swing my legs over the bed.
My jeans hang loose on my hips undone while my shoes are still plastered to my feet.
Another alcohol induced coma. My phone screen lights up along the floor, buzzing along the wood.
I trip from the bed and scoop it up, reluctantly answer it, praying to Christ it isn't Mortensen.
I'll need a whole ass bottle of liquor if it is.
I settle on the edge of the bed, massaging my temples.
“Your naughty little bitch is taking a joyride in your Bugatti,” a voice snorts through the speaker.
Val?
I grumble, blinking a few times to wake up. I yawn. “Who? What the fuck?” I reply groggily, trying to compute what the hell he's on about. It's still dark outside, and I'm not ready to be awake. Hell, I can't even remember shit from last night.
“Clara Vane?” he responds as if it's the most obvious shit.
Fuck! Clara. We fucked and I passed out.
My head snaps around to find an empty bed. I surge forward, hobbling as I zip up my jeans. My eyes flicker over to the end table and the drawer that is now askew.
My keys.
Fucking gone.
Her phone.
Also fucking gone.
I swipe all the shit off my end table and rip the drawer out, expelling the contents onto the floor.
This clever bitch. I let out an incendiary burst of laughter.
My tongue rolls along my inner cheek. I grind my teeth, fighting an impressed smirk.
“Clara,” I recite. I clutch the phone, squeezing it until my palm turns white. She must enjoy being tortured and used because that is exactly what happens when I'm tested. Delicate my fucking ass. The beast is ready to play, sweetheart.
Val continues with his hyena laughter. “Man, I knew you'd never loan any whore that vehicle. Ever. I bet she needed a fix. I haven't seen her in a minute.” He chuckles.
He doesn't need to know I've been behind her absence. But, what the hell?
“What the fuck do you mean?” I grit. It's no secret she does drugs to numb herself.
From what, no Goddamn clue. What does he know about her habits?
Maybe she was serious that she fucked him.
I haven't been around his ass since she threw it in my face, and I punched his ass out.
The fact he's calling me is a surprise on its own.
He's quiet.
“What does she take?” I repeat, trying incredibly hard to remain calm despite the pent-up rage.
When I catch her, she'll wish she was in the Void instead of in my grasp.
I rummage in my jeans pocket and fish out a cigarette.
The lighter clicks open. I watch the flame dance in the darkness.
I pause, shoving down those memories. My eyes slam shut.
It's the only thing lighting up this cold, desolate place.
I wish it was weed, but this gets the edge off well enough. My nerves are shot. Fuck, even drugs would suffice. The level of shit I've been dealt has about reached my maximum. I release a heavy exhale. I grow increasingly agitated with each beat of silence from the other end of the phone.
I pace around the room like a caged animal ready to rip the next person who walks through the door to shreds.
The beast is unleashed and ready for blood.
Finally, the dickhead responds, “She likes downers. Though recently I've given her uppers to clear that head of hers. She sucks cock way better on molly. She’s a fucking mess dude . . .” I see red.
“Nah, wait a minute. You—You're giving her that shit?”
my brain glitches. I know he dabbles in drugs, but I figured he wasn't supplying her.
Does she even have the money for that shit?
Guess I don't have to guess how she's paying.
“What the fuck, man!” I grit into the receiver on the verge of losing my shit.
Why? I don't fucking know. I shouldn't give a damn, but here we are.
“Yea,” he replies sheepishly. “How the hell do I say no to free pussy in exchange?”
he scoffs, justifying his actions. Bingo.
I fucking knew it. I'm just as guilty of using women for what I want, but for whatever reason, it pisses me off.
The line goes quiet. I'm seething. She's whoring herself out.
Guilt laces Val's voice. His conscience is the least of my worries.
He tries to smooth shit over. “Listen, about the party . . . I didn't know she was your latest plaything,” he admits sheepishly. “She's been fucking Silas and I for weeks . . .” he trails off, purposefully avoiding anymore confrontation. But his admission isn't helping his cause.
I'm not in the mood to listen to his babbling.
I don't need his reasoning or excuses. My cock is the only one she's gonna remember, anyway.
No matter how many dicks she sucks and fucks.
It'll be mine that makes her toes curl. Right now, though, I need to focus on locating her.
I don't need the added headache of her going to the police.
It's a little hard to refute my name burnt into her milky skin.
Not even Mortensen can dig me out of that shit.
“Where. Is. She,” I growl out, enunciating each word.
I'm in no mood for his apology. It's my own fault for being so careless, but I'm no less agitated.
Val knows I'm not one to fuck around or mince words.
Not as of late, anyway. Guess I'm finally getting some of my shit together. Who would have thought.
“She was driving toward campus.”
I end the call to dial the only person I trust and the one person I don't want to involve in my fuck ups.
My resolve is slipping with each passing moment.
The phone trills a few times before a sleepy voice answers.
I plod toward the bathroom, put the call on speaker, and set it on the sink.
I turn the faucet on and splash the cold water over my face.
The air gets sucked from my lungs. My insides twist in revulsion.
I hate the reflection staring back at me.
“This better be important,” Zain's voice growls on the other end.
I hear Vesper moaning in the background.
It echoes along the bathroom walls. Yup, unhappy interruption.
There was a point I would have fucked Vesper with Zain.
He wasn't, and still isn't, into the sharing thing.
That ship has long sailed. Especially now that she's got it out for me.
She knows I'm behind Clara's disappearance.
I don't blame her, but it's no less annoying to deal with her bullshit.
I scoff. “Obviously. Listen man, don't say shit to Vesp. I need to borrow your car. Zero questions asked.” I know he will do anything for me. It's bro code. He is the one person who doesn't question my shit even when I'm being reckless.
Water beads down my cheeks. The ends of my hair darken from the dampness. “Fine. Fuck it up and I'll fuck you up.”
I roll my eyes. As if I don't have enough money to buy it twenty times over. “Yeah, man, whatever. Just don't say shit to Vesper. I can't deal with her bitchy ass right now. Got it?”
“Watch it,” he growls at me.
I'm so close to the edge and I swear that nosy bitch will push me over it.
I get it. She wants to murder me for doing something with Clara.
Hell, if she knew how deep my depravity runs, she'd cut my balls off.
She's grown a pair since being with Zain.
Not surprised. I remember when she was meek and timid.
The truth of the matter is though, Clara is a big girl.
Vesper has a tendency to stick her nose where it doesn't belong.
Her curiosity gets the better of her. Probably how she ended up with Zain in the first Goddamn place.
I don't owe Vesper shit for answers and if she continues to hound me, I have no problem locking her in that ossuary next, consequences with Zain be damned.
Zain has kept her on a tight leash, but she's about reached the end of
her rope with me.
“Be there in ten.”