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"I'm not going to force you to come with me," Khadem said tersely, "nor will I spend the rest of the night wooing you. So if you truly do not want my help—-"
Prue forced herself to lie. "I can take care of myself."
Khadem's lips tightened. So be it then. He pointed towards the stairs at the back of the club. "If you don't want me with you, fine. But one of the private rooms upstairs is reserved under my name. It's the first door you'll see. Password is 0908. You can stay there until the drug wears off."
The words seemed too good to be true, and Prue couldn't help but wonder if the offer came with some unseen catch. "Why are you helping me?"
Khadem's lips twisted. "Because you asked me to."
Chapter Three
Prue hadn't a chance to say anything else, with the stranger already walking away. She knew this could be the last time she would ever see him, and every cell in her body was urging her to call for him to come back.
But she couldn't.
Musn't.
I need to do this on my own.
I need to remember I have Klaus!
Please help me, God!
Prue wrapped her arms around her body and made her way to the stairs. The club seemed to have gotten even more crowded, and all she could do was bite her lip and swallow her cries every time her body accidentally brushed against someone else.
She took one last look around her, but there was still no sign of Alta, and she had this crazy urge to laugh and cry when her cousin's famous last words came back to haunt her.
Trust me, Prue. This will be a night you'll never forget!
And so it was.
A series of if-onlys plagued Prue as she climbed the short flight of stairs with shaking legs.
If only she had the courage to tell Klaus that she didn't really care about having fun like he and his friends did.
If only she hadn't let Alta persuade her to ditch her purse and let her cousin keep her phone and wallet.
If only, if only, if only—-
"Yo, guys. Check it out. Look who's here."
Prue had already reached the top of the steps when she heard one of the doors at the other end of the corridor open, and her heart nearly stopped beating when she heard someone wolf-whistle in response.
Her head jerked up, and Prue literally felt like she had gone to both heaven and hell upon seeing the same five guys she had done her best to avoid.
While the part of her that was drugged and made crazy with lust was actually eager to have them come closer, the part of her that was still sane was overcome with fear.
These guys knew Klaus. Everyone in their university knew Klaus, and that was why she could tell by the way they were looking at her that they also knew who she was.
"You're Prue, aren't you?"
The words came from someone who would normally make her skin crawl. He was short and chubby, his hair oily, and his skin pimply. But what truly repulsed her was none of those things. Rather, it was the way he leered at her as he spoke, and when she saw the way he licked his lips as his gaze traveled down to her cleavage—-
Lord, help me!
Prue wanted to kill herself when she felt her breasts actually swelling in response to the lewdness of his gaze. If she had any remaining doubts on just how powerful the drug in her system was, all of it was extinguished was in that instant, and what was left was this terrifying certainty that if she didn't make a move in the next second—-
"Are you all alone? Would you like to hang out with us?"
She would end up giving everything to this guy.
Everything, Prue! Everything!
The thought was more than she could bear, and Prue managed to back away before his fingers came into contact with hers. She heard him curse as she whirled around, but there was nowhere to go since she was already surrounded.
Two of his friends were blocking the stairs, and both guys were looking at her with condescending smiles. "Don't go, babe. Not when we're just about to have fun."
Prue's heart pounded as the three other guys formed a tighter circle around her.
"Don't be scared." It was him again. The guy with the pimply skin, and whose lips were now forming a smile that was as oily as his hair. "We're the good guys, you know?"
The words made his friends laugh, and the fact that it did made Prue want to cry. She might not know who exactly these guys were, but she instinctively knew what kind of men they were, and they were definitely not good.
"So how about a friendly hug to start with?"
Oily Jerk tried to reach for her again, and even though Prue should've known better, disgust won over common sense, and she lifted her hand to slap him—-and failed.
