AllFreeNovel
Share Us
There’s a girl on the stage, a woman, soft curves, curvier than the kind that Heather usually picks to perform for the pack of predators that frequent Cascade. Her hair is curled, rivulets of brown waves that slide over her bare shoulders. My gaze lingers, following the curve of her back down to her hips, her legs. Her feet are in tall black boots, and they make my eyes drag up her body, as she dips and sways to the beat, an icy thrill rolling down my spine.
She’s got a blue silky wrap around her hips, but underneath it I can see the glitter of a deep blue thong. She turns, grabbing onto a pole and pulling herself up.
Fuck, she’s flexible. Her leg wraps around the pole, and her head is tossed back, her back arching, her chest pushing forward. My mouth waters and I force myself to swallow the mouthful of whiskey in my mouth. Her breasts nearly slip out from the hold of her bra, more glitter, falling like snow as she twists around it, a fairly basic move, but she makes it look like something more. Her face turns toward mine as she lets herself down with a slow, low bow, the hint of dusky nipples at the edge of her bra making how much I want her an urgent problem. My cock stiffens in my suit pants, and I set my whiskey down.
I need to get the fuck out of here.
Except she walks back from the edge of the stage, one leg behind the other, her thighs plush and perfect. I want to wrap my fingers around them and pull them apart, bury my mouth in her and make her scream my name.
I don’t even know her name.
Her hand slides over her hip, and then she tugs on the wrap. It falls to the ground, and the glittery thong she’s wearing leaves nothing to the imagination. Fuck.
"More whiskey?" Heather’s in my ear, the evil bitch that she is, and when I turn to look at her, she tilts her head to the side. "What? You haven’t dated anyone in forever." She reaches up a hand to brush against my cheek, and I grab her wrist, nearly grinding my fingers through her skin right down to the bone.
"Who the hell is she?" I demand, even as her eyes widen. I’m hard as fuck, and that’s a problem. How long has it been since I’ve felt... anything? For anyone? Work, keeping my family, my people safe? It’s always overridden everything, including my basic physical needs. But now...
The beat shakes up, the song shifting, and the girl on the stage moves, her hips swaying and her arms over her head. There’s a look on her face like she’s not thinking, and her expression is serene, almost happy. My throat goes tight, my skin feels hot, and I get to my feet, letting go of Heather’s wrist.
I barely hear the sound of Heather pouring me more whiskey, the clink of the glass beside me, because I’m staring at her.
The fingers from one hand glide down her other arm, teasing touches that fill me with fury because it should be me touching her like that. She’ll never touch herself again, I’ll be the only one, I’ll make her come, I’ll make her scream, I’ll?—
I swallow down my jealousy and the whiskey in my glass. Turning away, my jaw clenched.
"Thanks," I snap at Heather, and make a rude gesture before walking toward the door. There’s no way in hell I’m stepping foot back in here for a month, and I’m telling Heather to fire that dancer. She’s not a fit for our club, she’s not?—
A scream echoes out across the room, cutting through the music, and the sound stops short a few seconds later. I turn, as the lights come up, and my eyes narrow. The world tunnels in front of me, vision dialing in on the sight at the edge of the stage. The girl, that dancer, she’s being pulled down by some cheap suit, her eyes wide in panic.
My body moves, the room a red blur, my fist hauling back and?—
CRACK!
I get him across the jaw first, and he hangs in mid-air, stunned, letting go over her thigh. As he starts to fall, I grab him with my other arm, hauling him up against the stage, shoving him back-first against the edge of it.
I punch him again. And again, the rage swelling inside of me, fueled by something I can’t even name.
"Get your fucking hands off of her," I snarl, as he spits out a mouthful of blood and a tooth, groaning.
"She’s a stripper," he gasps, and I slam my fist into his face, his nose breaking with a satisfying crunch.
That’s when arms come around me from three different directions, the whisper of suits telling me they’re Cascade bodyguards, too slow to make a damn difference, too on the hind foot to save the girl from being molested.
They’re all fired after this.
They’re all lucky to not be dead after this.
The growl that rips out of my throat as they try to pull me back, and I shake them off, Heather’s panicked explanations in the background, none of it matters. All I can do is look up at the girl on the stage as she stands there, her thong torn, as she holds it at her side, eyes wide, tears wetting her lashes.
Then she turns and bolts off the stage, nearly tripping on her ridiculously tall, ridiculously impractical boots.
CHAPTER 4
ash
I can’t catch my breath. I can’t stop shaking. My hands won’t stop shaking, and I’m so cold, the adrenaline is turning my skin to ice. I can’t think, I can’t breathe, all I can do is run. I get backstage, reaching down as my boot nearly turns my ankle. I grab the zipper, hiccuping a sob, yanking it down, and then the other.
"Oh honey, oh god honey, did he?—"
