There.
As I twirled around the spinning pole, a set of eyes narrowed in on me from the middle of the room. His table was occupied with three other men who couldn’t have been older than twenty-five. Their drinks sloshed as they jeered and pointed, knocking into one another and chanting encouragement toward the stage.
Not him.
We locked eyes, his blonde hair glinting in the light, and I let him think I was entranced. That I was dancing for him on this stage rather than luring him into tangled vines ready to watch the light leave his hateful eyes.
When the last few notes of bass rumbled across the floor, I rolled my hips into a drop squat with one arm up on the pole as my back slid down it. The wider my legs spread in front of the crowd, the more hungry his eyes became.
I crawled to the end of the stage and the front row went wild. Some threw money, others reached to stick it under the waistband of my barely-there panties.
He knew it, though…
I crawled for him.
I was submissive. Teasing. Sending silent promises and pleas that only he could fulfill.
When he lifted his glass with a smirk full of bad intentions, I knew I had him.
Let the games begin.
My quick exit from the stage caused a chorus of disappointment from my audience and probably a missed opportunity for more cash. Cash I didn’t need even half as bad as I wanted to get the hell out of Lucious and go on my murder date.
“Satan help me,” I murmured, rubbing at the lingering spots the stage lights left behind while attempting to navigate through the back halls to the dressing room.
Frost tickled my ear.“Help you with what, dearest Dany? Out of your dress? Perhaps into my bed?”A deep, sinister laugh rumbled into the ether and threatened to take every ounce of my sanity with it.
“Fuck off,” I groaned under my breath and shook away the shiver his chill left behind. One day. Onefuckingday he wouldn’t have that effect on me.
I shoved through the dressing room door and was pleased to find that it was mostly empty, all except for Nova. She hummed a tune I couldn’t place, her eyes focused on the glitter she patted onto the bridge of her nose.
“I’m headed out,” I announced while ditching the last few scraps of my performance outfit: nipple stars and a thong. “The lights are fucking with my eyes, and it’s making my head hurt. Plus, the crowd was thinning out anyway.”
Nova didn’t address me. Fuck, I don’t know if she even heard me. She just kept humming.
Oh well.
My preferred post performance clothes, consisting of buttery-soft leggings,one of many band tees I owned, and an oversized hoodie, were folded and ready on my vanity. If comfort could induce an orgasm, I would have had one while dressing.
“Nice set, Ivy.” Caramel brushed a glittered hand across my back.
“Thanks, Carm.” I smiled, hoping it looked ‘fresh cookies out of the oven’ warm and not too ‘killing boys makes my dick hard’ eager. It was hard though when I could practically feel a blood-slicked knife in my palm encouraging me to keep stabbing. The bloodlust was nothing new. In fact, it only grew stronger with each passing year. For the first five years, I only killed on my Death Day, incapable of stomaching any more death on my hands. As the years went on, though, I killed because I wanted to.
My focus this year was a little different, however.
The red band on my wrist was a constant reminder that I was running out of time to keep my bargain with Lucifer.
Three years.
That’s all that stood between me and eternal freedom. That and one shit-stain of a man who, coincidentally, kind of looked like the douchebag I was going to introduce to my knife tonight.
The thought of his death, of ridding him from this world, should fill me with relief, but it doesn’t. There’s a hollowness there. One that if I looked too closely, I was afraid I’d fall into its darkness and spend the next thirty years clawing my way out of it again.
Cold nipped at my neck.“You don’t have another thirty years, Dany. Unless you want me to own you. I must admit, I wouldn’t be opposed.”
“Get out of my fucking head!” I shouted outloud. Which was a mistake because…
“Ivy?” Caramel’s warm hand landed on my shoulder where I was still bent and fighting to pull my leggings over sweaty legs. “Are you okay?”
