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She stormed around the back of the club to where I knew she kept her car.
I waited for it to emerge.
My shift here was nearly done. I’d follow her home, wait until she was inside her apartment building, and then I’d leave as silently as I’d arrived.
Minutes passed. They ticked on, and with each one, a growing sense of unease rattled me.
What was taking her so long? I knew her by now. She was always ready to get home, never dawdling or even bothering to check her phone. The bouncer had gone inside, and the Strip was empty and as quiet as it ever was.
Completely absent of Lyric and her rusted blue Subaru Impreza.
I wound the window down a crack, listening for her.
The curses she let out as she came back onto the street without her car filtered back to me in the quiet night air. I frowned when she pulled her hoodie up and stomped down the street, away from the safety of the club.
I sat shocked for a moment, wondering what she was doing, waiting for her to turn around and come back.
She didn’t.
I squinted, watching her form get smaller and smaller.
She wasn’t coming back. What was she planning on doing? Walking home? The thought of her walking alone, unprotected at night, was maddening.
Especially since the person she most needed protection from was me.
The desire to chase her, grab her roughly, and slip into an alleyway where I could take her hard and fast washed over me. To make her scream my name. To have her fight me, only to submit when she realized how good I could make her feel.
“Those desires aren’t normal, Zepherin,” I muttered to myself. “The joining of a man and a woman is a holy act.”
There was nothing holy about the desires I kept inside. I’d been told that over and over again, until I’d shut them up for good.
At least I thought I had.
No other woman had shaken the binds I’d tied around myself. None but her.
All because she was so much like Annie.
I started the car, ready to follow her, when movement caught my eye.
A man emerged from the shadows. Masked and moving quietly, following behind Lyric. The pot belly and hands so hairy I could see it from a distance gave him away as the last patron to leave the club.
The one Lyric had chased after, naked and with her face a storm cloud.
A length of thin rope was wound around his fat fingers.
I could tie her up with that rope. Keep her in my bed, spread-eagled and well satisfied, going down on her for hours until she begged me to let her come…
I was pretty sure that wasn’t this asshole’s intention.
A deadly sort of anger obliterated all other feelings. Instead of starting the car, I opened the door and got out, slipping into the night, on the tail of a man up to no good.
As silently as a cat, I crept down the street behind him, stalking a stalker. I kept to the shadows, avoiding the patches of light cast by streetlamps and the occasional car.
Lyric never turned around. She was completely oblivious to the men behind her, watching her every move. A fresh round of anger filled me, this time at her for being so careless. No, not careless. If I’d garnered anything about Lyric’s personality from nights of watching her, it was she was stubborn and independent to a fault. She had a club full of friends. She could have asked one of them for a lift if her car wouldn’t start.
But she hadn’t. Instead, she’d refused to ask for help and put herself in a dangerous situation.
It made me mad enough to want to punish her. Pull her panties down over her curvy ass, lay her out over my lap, and spank her until she cried out for forgiveness for putting herself in this situation.
