AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CHAPTER3
Sariah
Aclub isn’t my scene, especially one called Tease, but it’s close to home, and in truth it was the first place I came across that didn’t look sleazy. I’d rather have my head stuck in a book than find myself pressed within a mass of sweaty bodies, but I’m set on going through with my plan. I’m going to lose my virginity on my terms. When Jeremiah touched me without my permission, it left me feeling filthy, like I was covered in dirt that no shower would ever scrub clean. Even the thought of getting naked with the man makes my skin crawl as if a thousand fire ants are walking over me. I don’t want my first time to be with him.
I’m shoved roughly to the side and into a large man with a faux hawk as the crowd swells and moves like a living breathing thing. I feel like a ship tossed at sea, and I try to keep my legs beneath me as I move with the wave of people. My heart is hammering in my chest, fear making me twitchy and uneasy. I’ve never been anywhere on my own before. There is always security following me. I’m starting to realise the gravity of my mistake. I’m not used to this level of freedom, and I feel exposed, torn open, ripped apart. It makes heat sear through my veins.
Getting out of the house had not been easy. My father has guards on me twenty-four seven. I had to wait until the whole household had gone to bed and then sneak out of my window. Getting past the layers of security surrounding the perimeter of the house should have been tricky, but I know their routines. I knew where they would be and where there would be gaps in their security. I know everything about that house because it has been my prison for the past eighteen years.
My upcoming nuptials have made me defiant in a way I have never been.
Because I fear the alternative more.
I fear what Jeremiah will do to me the night of our wedding. I have no idea where this sudden strength has come from. I have never possessed it before. Usually, I toe the line. I do what is expected of me. I’m so frightened of my father and his iron fist I have never dared to step out against him. I know what defying him leads to. The bruises that cover my body rarely heal before new ones are given, but desperation drove me to this. I feel the abject panic of the clock ticking down with every waking moment. In less than a month’s time I will be married, and all my choices will disappear the moment that ring shackles me to Jeremiah.
I want to make my own decisions and be in charge of my destiny. I know I can’t stop the wedding. To even attempt it would be suicide. If my father didn’t kill me, Jeremiah would. The shame it would bring to his family name if I refused to walk down the aisle would be greater than any shame he would feel about taking my life. As important as I am for building alliances, I am also disposable. Women have little place in our life, and I am no different.
As I glance around at the scantily clad women and the men who are dressed to party, I feel out of my depth. It’s like murky waters are settling around my neck, threatening to drown me in its swells. This is a surreal dream. I can’t decide if it’s a nightmare or not.
I feel a hand slide onto my bottom, and I can’t stop from squeaking in surprise. I twist around and see a cheeky-looking man giving me a smirk. “Fancy a fuck?”
The brazenness of his words takes me aback. Never before has a man spoken to me in such harsh and forward terms—other than Jeremiah, but he bought and paid for me. Others wouldn’t dare. My father would gut them for such disrespect. He may not respect me, but he certainly respects the Easton name, and he will at least do what he has to on the surface in order to protect my honour while we still perpetuate the lie that I am his daughter.
I stumble back from the man, falling into another who grabs me by the elbows to steady me. I pull away, my skin feeling hot where he touched me, and not in a nice way. It feels raw and wrong, like flames licking up my arm.
The man holding me smirks, a macabre look that makes my stomach roil. “What is a pretty thing like you doing here on your own?”
I try to pull back, but he doesn’t release his iron grip on me. I shove him roughly, but he barely moves an inch. His eyes are wide, wired and he has a wild look that instantly makes all my instincts snap to alert.
“Let go of me!” I hiss. I’m not sure if he can hear me over the steady bass that is thumping through the massive speakers on either side of the stage, so I give him another push.
“We’re just having fun, sweetheart.” He grins at me, but I’m not having fun at all. Fear is galloping through my veins, leaving icy crystals in its wake, and my stomach is churning savagely, making me feel nauseous.
Just as my panic starts to take hold, a hand reaches over me and grabs the man’s wrist. He does something, a movement I barely register, but the man releases his hold on me with a scream of pain.
“She said no,” a silky-smooth voice says from over my shoulder.
I twist around and peer up at my saviour. He’s not the white knight on the horse. He is the black robed horsemen coming to claim my soul. When I look in his eyes, I see nothing there but swirling darkness. I should be afraid—terrified—and part of me is, but I’m also enthralled. There is something about him that draws my attention like the moth to the flame. I know I will get burned, but right now that seems irrelevant.
Every inch of my body feels lit up. It’s like the air around me is so thin I can hardly draw in oxygen. My lungs stutter as my heart skips a beat. I’ve never felt a visceral reaction to a man before, but whoever he is, he makes me feel like I’m drowning on land. I swallow back my fear, but the man has eyes for no one but my attacker. He shoves him back ruthlessly, doing with one hand what I had attempted to do with both. The man who grabbed me goes down, taking two other people with him as he sprawls on the ground. The sound of shattering glass fills the air, loud even over the sound of the music.
My saviour gives me his attention and I get lost in his gaze. I can’t tell what colour his eyes are in the flashing strobe lights of the club, but they appeared to be almost black.
He doesn’t say a word. He holds his hand out to me, a poisoned olive branch. I know I shouldn’t take it, that I should run far and fast from this man, but my hand slips into his. Danger hasn’t just come knocking—it’s broken down the door and is staring me in the face, taunting me. Laughing at me.
The crowd of people part like the Red Sea as he turns and walks me back towards the bar area. He walks past a large security guard, who looks like he could break my neck with his bare hands, and pushes through a door that is marked VIP. I should stop this. I should pull away, but my hand is cemented to his.
The music is a dull thud as the door shuts behind us and the fluorescent lights blind me momentarily. I blink against the brightness and try to see where I am. I’m greeted by a long corridor with whitewashed walls. I instantly realise the danger I’m in. I tug my hand back, making him stop in his tracks. He turns towards to me and I get a good look at him.
He steals my breath. I know it’s not right to call a man beautiful, but there is no other word to describe his perfection. I have never seen a man as beautiful as he is. His eyes are not in fact black as I thought them to be when we were on the main floor of the club but a tantalising blue that reminds me of the ocean. The colour looks peaceful on the surface, but dangers are hidden underneath, and I suspect the same is true of this man. He has short sandy-blond hair and a layer of light scruff covers his face. There is no warmth in his eyes.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, as if he understands I have no business being in a place like this.
Since I can’t tell him the truth, I murmur, “I needed a distraction.”
“I can help you with that.”
He backs me up against the wall, pressing his body against mine. My heart starts to race, and my chest starts to heave as the air suddenly feels thin.
I meet his eyes and I get lost in their turbulence. He snags my chin, forcing my attention back to him. His fingers leave trails of fire where he touches my skin, and I feel too hot.
“What’s your name?” he demands.
I don’t answer. I can’t. My tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth. Everything about this man exudes danger, and I’m drawn to it.
“Name,” he repeats.
“Alice,” I say quietly, giving him my mother’s name. Something tells me I need to protect my identity, especially from a man who looks like this.
He gives me a smile that touches his eyes, chasing the demons away for just a moment. “Well, Alice, I’m about to give you the best night of your fucking life.”
