Okay, so clearly Chains was no ordinary club, and if the name didn’t give it away, the atmosphere certainly did.
“Is she open to play?” a voice growled, and it took everything in me not to shrink against Ryder’s side. He moved forward with unnerving ease, while I endured the hungry stares of men, and some women, asking if I tasted as good as I looked.
Ryder strolled past three people grinding against each other, while a man beside them snorted a white powder off a woman’s breasts. He wore trousers fashioned from strips of leather, and from the glimpses of bare skin between the strands, I was fairly certain he had nothing on underneath.
I’ve never felt so uncomfortable in all my life.
What the hell was I doing here?
My skin prickled with attention, and I wanted nothing more than to run back up to the entrance that was hidden inside King’s Cross station. The club must be in an old part of the underground, the walls bare brick and the ceiling interwoven beams of steel. In any other situation I’d love nothing more than to splash a little colour amongst the harsh industrial grey.
But it was clear any sort of colour would be unwanted if I went by the offence taken at my pink dress. I tugged at the hem, nervous as I followed behind Ryder as quickly as I could.
Heavy bass vibrated the floor beneath my boots, the largest part of the room holding so many people it became nothing more than a sea of indistinguishable dancers. Lights above flashed white and red, with the edges reserved for darkened booths and a long bar. Metal stairs led up to a mezzanine that looked like it had failed every safety inspection imaginable, the steps wobbling beneath us as Ryder took them two at a time.
Someone brushed my arm, and this time I full on recoiled until I accidentally bumped into Ryder’s back.
The man in question laughed, his large bare belly wobbling from the effort. “She’s looking a little skittish there, mate. You looking to share?”
“Share?” I growled, my nerves burning away in a sudden flare of anger as I lifted my head higher. “I’m not some?—”
Ryder turned, grabbing me by the wrist and tugging me closer. “Ask again after a few drinks loosen her up.” With a wink, he continued moving us past the tables, his grip tightening.
I let out an angered gasp, tugging myself free. “What the hell was that?”
Ryder came to halt, forcing me to stop or risk colliding into him again. He looked down at me, a slow smile curving his lips. “You’re afraid.”
“I’m not afraid!” I wasn’t. I was just… overwhelmed.
His head dipped closer. “Do you really think I’d bring your pretty little face to a place full of thugs and criminals?” A pause, his smile widening further. “I have, but that’s not the point.”
My eyes darted to the side, taking in the crowd watching us. “Ryder…”
“Calm down, blondie. You’re so judgmental. No one here’s going to hurt you… unless you ask them nicely.”
I reacted, smacking him in the chest hard enough that he took a step back.
Ryder chuckled in response, shaking his head as he moved towards a table in the corner. A man sat on the furthest chair, nursing a large beer and surrounded with half-walls to give a sense of privacy. He looked up when we entered, placing his glass hard on the table as he stood.
He wore similar clothes to Ryder, with jeans and a dark T-shirt rather than the more popular bare skin and leather. His arms were thick, covered entirely in black and grey gothic skulls and wilting flowers.
His dark eyes met mine for a fleeting moment before immediately settling on Ryder.
“Hen—”
The man moved around the table so suddenly to pull Ryder off balance. “Ryder Finn, I’m arresting you on suspicion of theft. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your?—”
“What the fuck? Seriously, Hen?” Ryder grunted, his arms pulled roughly behind his back and wrists cuffed together. “Mother Samantha’s going to be so disappointed. She’ll be turning in her grave.”
“—defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”
The man shoved Ryder forward, and I took a panicked step in their way.
“Wait!” I cried out.
“You’re entitled to free and independent legal advice,”the man continued, clearly ignoring me. “Do you understand?”
“Do I understand that you’re a prick? Then yes,” Ryder said with a sneer, jostling his shoulder back in retaliation. “You’re so dramatic. I’m going to call Elena and tell her you’re being mean again.”
