And I’m in the fucking middle of this mess, I thought.
When it comes to Violet, nothing seemed to go according to plan. She was obviously in something that was more complicated than what she could handle, and here I was, ready to accept whatever came this way as her fucked up nanny. I was beginning to think that the Fates hadn’t glitched when they allowed me to resurrect here, but instead, placed the burden of Violet upon my shoulders, dragging me so deep into the pit of the damned that even Hades would laugh.
I shivered at the thought. Every muscle in my body burned with the need to intervene, to yank her from this place before she stepped onto that stage. The urge crawled beneath my skin like frost spreading across a winter lake.
But that isn’t an option.
If it were any other person, I would have left them to deal with digging their own grave, but this is Violet—and Charlie would never forgive me. If I stormed back there now, made a scene, searched for Violet. . . there would be trouble. The problem was that Violet was too damn stubborn. I could have tried to throw her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and she would have responded with violence.
And she would have every right to do so. You would do the same.I ran my hand down my face.
I had spent so many years in the Wastelands protecting myself that when I tried to protect another, it had gotten me a life sentence. Now, I was repeating the same mistake. I hated not sticking to my original plan. Subterfuge and simply reporting back home.
So, I sat imprisoned by circumstance, a wolf forced to watch a member of its pack walk into a trap, maintaining the fiction of indifference while terror for her clawed at my insides. My hands gripped the edge of the bar,knuckles white with restraint, as I battled the raw, primal fear of losing someone again. I’d vowed to protect her.
If I didn’t have this fucking bleeding heart.
The music slammed into my chest, matching my heartbeat beat for beat, vicious and unrelenting. Bass crawled up through the floor and into my marrow while synthesizers screamed across the packed room like souls trapped between worlds, sounds reaching for me from every direction. Yet, try as I could, I could not hear past the stage. It was almost as if there was a ward or wall prohibiting my hearing, which only heightened my paranoia.
Fuck, what was I thinking? I should not have let her go back there. She could be getting coerced or kidnapped for all I know. I know what resides in these shitholes. It’s always the same—supernaturals indulging in controlled chaos, always at the expense of another. This was no exception.
I couldn’t even imagine what they’d have her doing back there and with whom. Something harsh dug into my ribs at the thought of her grinding her hips on some siren scum’s cock. I’d be damned if I’d let these fucking dipshits see an ounce of what wasn’t theirs.
I told myself five minutes, and then I would go back there, damned or not.
I sipped mykompot, letting sweet berry notes flood my tongue. Bits of strawberry and blackberry swam in the blood-red liquid, their bite slicing through the sugar syrup. I didn’t ask for it to be made alcoholic, but I wasn’t surprised to taste a splash of vodka.
Underage serving is the least of their concerns given the type of clientele they serve, I mused.
I took another sip as it burned a path down my throat. The icy glass against my palm was cool and distracting from my guts tying themselves into knots.
Andy arrived with a water to accompany my drink and asked, “So, my dashing young gentleman, do you think your friend will dance well for us this evening?” He nodded his head towards the stage, and the bells in his hair tinkled with the movement. The noise—his siren voice mingled with his jangling bells—scraped against my eardrums like nails on frozen glass.
I shot him a dismissive look, though I could not quite hide the pride threading through my words as I said, “She is as stubborn as a stone mule. When she decides to do a thing, the thing will be done.”
But in truth, I was not sure if Violet had the first clue how to dance on a stage, on a pole, in front of a crowd. Why would she? Where would she have learned anything of the sort? I prepared for this to devolve into a disaster.
“And to see her nude must be exciting for you.” A smile broke across Andy’s face, genuine and wide, exposing those sharp canines that caught the light like polished knives. That simple change in his expression froze my blood: partly from the predator sitting inches from me, but more from realizing what Violet was indeed about to do.
Shit, shit. Levi would skin me and hang me like a pelt if he knew I saw his daughter. . .
The music transformed, its rhythm slowing to a seductive crawl that hooked every patron’s attention like fish on a line, including mine.Fuck, too late now.With grim realization, I accepted my fate. The club’s atmosphere thickened as conversations died mid-sentence, glasses froze halfway to lips, and breathing synchronized with the vibrating bass.
Violet emerged into the spotlight, her silhouette cutting against the bleeding crimson and royal purple lights that painted her edges in fire. Her dark tresses trailed down her athletic frame, shiny and thick, before ending above her perfectly heart-shaped ass. Her profile took my breath away.She looks fucking sinful. The scent of expensive perfume and anticipation hung in the air, mingling with the sharp tang of alcohol and sweat. My fingers tightened around the cold glass.
Do not fall off the pole.
She did not. By the eyes of every one of the gods, she did not.
Violet transformed on that pole. She wrapped her thighs around the cold metal, muscles tensing with the perfect control of someone who’d done it a thousand times. The arch of her spine and sway of her body told stories her mouth never had. Her chocolate hair whipped across her face as she inverted, the red streaks catching fire under the lights.
For each twist during her dance, the angles and distances and required leverages were executed with the fineness of someone who owned the stage with her presence. Her fingers gripped and released with deliberaterhythm, her body suspended in defiance of gravity. When she slid slowly and sensually down the pole, my cock hardened painfully against my jeans.
Andy made a noncommittal sound, “She does indeed do it well.”
I wanted to reply, but my mouth was arid as I struggled to breathe. Her skin gleamed with sweat, highlighting the contrast between fragility and power, and I felt the undeniable urge to lick the sweat off her body. The silver mesh of her outfit clung to curves, cutting through the oxygen in the room until breathing felt like theft. Her legs, strong from years of training, scissored around the pole with a grace that belied their lethal potential, and my hips flexed involuntarily against the chair, wishing they were wrapped around mine.
I knew desire, had even rolled in its grasp when I allowed myself to. But this was a visceral need, a craving for a woman I had only seen as a brat until now.Violet, you are becoming less volchok and more volk.
