“Sure,” I say, straightening.
Allie takes the tray from me, and I follow her through the crowd to the VIP set against the opposite wall. Trace, our bartender, doesn’t escort us since this was a last-minute reservation on my end, but at least she knows where I’ll be. And I have Allie. I try to remind myself that I’m not alone, then take a few more breaths before going in. Thankfully, the raucous inside is enough of a distraction that I almost forget why I’m scared in the first place. I take the little stage while Allie serves, and we fall into an easy flow of dancing. Halfway through, Allie and I switch.
“Damn, girl.” Tyler grins when I sidle up to him. I won’t lie, this is my favorite part of dancing. The raw, dogged look in someone’s eyes when they look at me after a dance is better than sex sometimes. In this room, in the club, I’m in control. Maybe that’s why Dante shook me up so badly. I didn’t have the upper-hand like I do with Tyler.
I lean into him just before I start and whisper against his ear, “Remember, no touching.”
When I pull back, I see fresh hunger in his expression. He wants me in the way they all do. In reality, that’s what people come to the club for. They want to see what they can’t have, what they can’t touch. All restraint, no pleasure. I can see it in Tyler’s face as he holds himself back, and I can see it in his friends’ faces, too. They all want to grab, stroke, and feel me. But they won’t because they can’t, unless I let them.
I’m not a sadist, but even I can’t ignore how good it feels to have power like that.
Now, hold still.
The sound of Dante’s voice breaks into my focus as the ghost of his touch creeps out of the shadows and wraps itself aroundme like a choking force. I know it isn’t real, and I know he isn’t here, but I feel the stirring of fear building inside of me. The confidence I felt moments ago shatters like glass around my feet.
My panic is reflected in Tyler’s expression as I stop mid-dance. I’m suddenly paralyzed by the memory of Dante’s teeth biting down on my wrist. No one but him has noticed. The other guys are too busy watching Allie, cheering as she strips her top off for them. Tyler calls to me, but I wave him off.
“I need a minute,” I mouth, hoping he understands.
Collecting my discarded clothing off the ground, I hurry out. It takes me a minute to wrestle the pieces back on, but I finally do. For a single moment, I lean my forehead against the door and focus on breathing. Music pounds in the background as the chatter of patrons mixes into the swell of cheers and whistles. It’s chaotic, but I know this chaos, and eventually it steadies me.
I need a glass of water.My mouth is dry, and my body is screaming for hydration. I yield and haul myself over to the bar, squeezing through the body of people on the main floor.
Halfway through, I hear cheering and laughter so loud that it actually drowns out some of the bumping club music. It’s a little unusual, so I move faster to see what’s going on. Breaking through the crowd, I see Trace standing idly by the side. She’s watching someoneelsebehind the bar with a look of pure awe and wonder. I’m driven forward by curiosity because she never lets anyone work the bar with her. The people blocking my view reluctantly let me through as I shove my way past them. The wind leaves my lungs the second my gaze lands on Gray.
Oh my fuck.
He looks startlingly sexy in a button-down shirt left wide open, exposing his bare chest, with part of it tucked into a pair of wide-leg black pants that sit right above his belly button. I peep a thick silver and black belt at his waist and linger a little too long on the muscles popping in his arms and neck as he moves.
“He’s good, isn’t he?” Trace is at my elbow almost immediately.
I was so caught up on the way he looked, I didn’t even notice what he was doing. Not only is he mixing drinks, but he’s doing it like he’s had years of practice. He flips the shaker in his hand with the deftness and precision of a magician doing a card trick. He rolls a pour with a kind of flare that I’ve never seen Trace do, and she’s one hell of a bartender.
“Yeah,” I say, a little too late in answering her question.
Gray serves the drink, applauded by the onlookers, and then turns to me. The way my body responds to the curve of his smile and the light in his scarlet eyes is something wholly new. I can’t explain it either. I feel magnetized, pulled in by the force of him.
Must be his vampire charm.
“Water?” Trace smacks the bar, snapping me to attention.
“Yes please,” I croak.
Gray slides his arms onto the bar and leans toward me. Someone got into my hair product and makeup tonight. He’s pushed his silver-white hair back completely, with just a few strategically placed pieces left hanging around his forehead, and he has a subtle line of black smudged around his eyes. A little goes a long way in his case. He looks sinful.
“Hello, sweet cheeks.” His voice pours over me like warm chocolate over velvet.
“What’re you doing here?” My rational mind wants to make sense of his presence, but I can hardly bring myself to sound scathing when all I want to do is run the points of my nails down his chest.
“Do I need a reason to see you?” He tilts his head questioningly, still smiling. Part of my brain short circuits.
Holy Mother of Sex, he is fucking gorgeous.
“No.” I lick my lips. “But you can still tell me.”
For a moment, I see his mask slip. He looks like he has a world of regrets weighing him down. I’m hoping he’ll tell me, that maybe he’ll say something about last night, but we’re swiftly interrupted. Trace joins us again, and he rolls away from the bar, and me. Trace hands over a glass of water and then claps a hand on Gray’s shoulder. She’sneverthis friendly with anyone, especially not men.
“Where have you been hiding this guy?” she asks. “He’s amazing!”
