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"It's Ares," the asshole insists. I almost expect his peacock feathers to dance around him.
"So happy for you motherfucker," my voice involuntarily raises higher as I turn to leave.
I feel his hand bruising my upper arm.
He is so close to me. I can feel his breath on my neck.
"Did I dismiss you vixen?"
"Go to hell," I say, jerking my arm forward to disengage his hand. I scan the space around me. I see a bar area to the far left, the pool tables I walked past, and a large brick fireplace to the right.
The space is enormous, and I wonder how many Grim Saints there are these days. The motorcycle club was notorious in our state. Well, them and the Havoc Ryders who lived in a nearby town.
I can feel him move closer, bending down to speak in my ear, "aw vixen, that's no way to talk to the man whose name you'll be screaming before this is all over!"
I turn around, colliding with his chest, I go to push myself back, but he's already grabbed me around the back.
"Let me go, asshole!" I yell.
"All fired up, I bet your panties are soaking for me right now," Jamison croons.
"You're impossible. You've always been a fucking bully," I screech.
Jamison steps back and laughs, "that wasn't a no!"
"Look, Ares," I said, stressing the name, god of war my ass, "you know as well as I do that course will just make this more painful. Why can't you just do what your father wanted?"
Ares ignores me, plopping down on the couch again and taking a remote that queues up the tv, the start of Grand Theft Auto crossing the screen. Great, the jackass had the attention span of a gnat.
I stormed out of the clubhouse without a backward glance, knowing this wasn't over.
