Then I see her. The woman I’m destined to be with—at least for tonight.
She’s a vision in white. I’ve never seen anyone wear all white to a club, and it’s a damn shame. She glows in the dark. It helps that she's tall for a woman—taller than most men, and all of the women in her stilettos. She navigates the floor, clumsy as a new colt. That’s all right. I don’t need her to be graceful. I’ll keep her safely on her back, legs in the air, high heels by my ears.
She’ll be mine before midnight if I have my way.
My prey leans on the bar, looking confused by all the bottles. She’s adorable, really, with her long dark hair caught up in a white ribbon.
I drain my drink in anticipation of the hunt.
Then a young man touches her on the shoulder. A rival hunter, closing in for the kill.
I watch their exchange.
No, I was wrong—he’s not a rival hunter. They are acquainted, but there’s no sexual attraction between them.
Ah. A vampire sidles up behind the young man and wraps a possessive arm around him. My lovely vision in white flinches, as if betrayed, and leaves.
Interesting…
I stand and follow.
Gwen
I don’t know where I’m going. I careen across the dance floor, nearly knocking over a gaggle of girls dancing to a techno remix of Lizzo’s Good as Hell. I wish I could do a hair toss, check my nails, and walk my fine ass out the door… but I’m too shattered. I stagger blindly across the club and end up in a dark hallway, where I crumple like a used napkin.
Goddamn Chad. The sounds of the club surround me, but no one can see me. Which is good, because I’m crying.
I’ve always wanted to come here. Even though Chad doesn’t remember, I begged him to take me to Toxic a thousand times. I thought that the club, the scene, the energy would do something for us. Chad told me he loved me, but I knew, I knew, something was missing.
I thought Chad and I were meant to be. I thought I could change and that would fix us.
Stupid, stupid Gwen. “He was gay. That’s why he didn’t want you.” And I wasted years of my life. Worse, I blamed myself.
Well, no more. It wasn’t my fault. “There’s nothing wrong with me.” I straighten. I’ve always wanted to come to Club Toxic, so I’m going to go back out there, do my head toss à la Lizzo, hit the dancefloor, and party like a rockstar.
I take a step towards the music, and a figure unfolds from the darkness. I startle backwards and a tall stranger emerges from the silken shadows. His hands catch my elbows, steadying me.
I look up and freeze. If Lucifer designed a face to seduce innocents into temptation, it would look just like this. A sleek jaw covered with stubble. Lush lips shaped for sin. He’s clad in all black like an assassin, which is why I didn’t see him at first.
He steps closer, well into my personal space. I have to tip my head back to look him in the eye. I should feel intimidated, but a mad desire to curl into this man’s chest overwhelms me. Something tells me he’d keep me safe.
The man tilts his head, dark brows slanting into an expression of concern.
“Are you lost, babygirl?”
Dimitri
She blinks up at me with wide, wet eyes. I heard her talking to herself. The little lamb had been in love with a gay man. I wish I could say her tears move me to pity, but they just make me hard. This is what she’d look like after a good flogging.
I’m getting ahead of myself. Step one: make sure she’s okay. Step two: obtain consent and seduce her. Step three: fuck her blind.
First step first.
“No. I just… needed a moment.” She jerks her head down and swipes at her eyes. The move makes her unsteady on her feet; I reaffirm my grip on her elbows. She leans into me, without seeming to notice.
“Great,” she mutters. “My makeup is ruined. Again.”
“Let me see.” I cup her jaw and raise her face to mine. She stills, letting me maneuver her the way I wish. Good little submissive.
I take my time, studying my awkward angel. She has gorgeous eyes, a light color I can’t make out in the dim light. They’re tilted at the corners. Pale skin, and long dark hair, caught up in that white ribbon. She looks like a Disney princess, if Disney princesses ever have mascara tear tracks down their cheeks. I wouldn’t know; I don’t watch those movies.
“Here.” I thumb away her black tears. “Good as new.”
“Thank you, Mr…”
“Call me Dimitri. And don’t thank me. It was my pleasure.” I keep my hands on either side of her face. “Do you want me to kill him?”
She blinks. “What?”
“The man who made you cry. Shall I make him disappear?”
“Um, no.” She laughs like I made a joke. “That’s okay. He’s my ex.” Her lower lip wobbles. “We broke it off a couple months ago.”
“His loss,” I say softly, and brush my thumb across her bottom lip. Her mouth opens. So fuckable.
“Yes,” she agrees in a breathy tone. Half under my spell. Not that I used any form of thrall with her. I’m just giving her what she wants. What she craves.
“He’s not worth your tears.”
“No. He’s not.” She jerks out of my grip, tossing her head. “I’m not sad.”
“No?” I raise a brow.
“I’m not,” she insists. “I’m pissed at all the years I wasted with him. I knew something was wrong. Things weren’t quite right. I thought there was something wrong with me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect.”
She shakes her head. “I squandered my youth.”
Her sweet voice is so mournful, I have to turn my head. It’d be rude to laugh right in her face.
But she laughs along with me.
“You’re still very young,” I tell her. Almost too young for a monster like me.
“I know.” She wrinkles her nose. “I’m kidding. Sorta.”
“So you’re all right?”
A firm nod. “I am.”
Step one: check. On to step two. “And you’re not leaving?”
“Heck, no.” Her stubborn chin rises again.
“Good. May I buy you a drink?”
“I’d like that. I’m Gwen, by the way.”
“Good to meet you, Gwen. Shall we?” I guide her forward with light pressure on her back. Her posture is perfect, although she stumbles a bit in her heels. “Easy, babygirl.” I steady her with an arm around her shoulders. She fits neatly in the half circle of my arm. It feels right.
“I’m not used to wearing heels,” she tells me. “These are new.”
With my help, we ease around the dance floor and make it to the bar without incident.
“What are you drinking?” I ask.
“Um,” she bites her lip in that adorable manner, “I don’t actually know. Something fruity?”
Adorable.
“An Arizona sunset for the lady,” I tell the bartender. “Light on the rum. Plus my usual.”
When our drinks come, I hold mine out for a toast.
“I’m Gwen.”