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Hours later,the sun has set over Noxport and Lenix is leading me inside Vinyl, one of the many clubs the Sin Eaters own around the city. She looks impeccable in her leopard print heels and 20’s inspired tasseled red dress, her black bob shining under the neon strobe lights.
Lenix lent me a black crushed velvet bodysuit paired with the shortest pair of frayed jean shorts I’ve ever dared to wear, and some cute platform sneakers. She even gave me a winged smokey eye and a nude lip to finish the look. I feel sexy. And for the first time, maybe ever, the attention I’m garnering doesn’t affect me negatively.
The club’s atmosphere is dark and moody, with large black booths lining the walls while the massive dance floor sits in the middle. Lenix weaves us through the crowd and then up the stairs to the VIP area, a table with a bottle of champagne on ice already waiting for us.
She lets out a pleased sigh while we sit. Reaching for the chilled bottle, she pours two glasses, handing me one.
“I thought we could dance up here,” she says with a wide grin. “More room.”
I take a sip, the bubbles going up my nose and making my eyes water. I clear my throat and survey the club from this vantage point. From here, the dance floor is right below us, full of writhing bodies and people enjoying the music. It crosses my mind that Lenix is still trying to shelter me, most likely worried I’d get overwhelmed with so many strangers encroaching on my personal space. I feel slightly irked at the thought, but she’s also not wrong—I don’talwayshave to jump into the deep end.
I smile back in earnest and nod. “Sounds lovely,” I reply.
A few glasses of champagne later, we’re both dancing to the music while Lenix shows me more and more provocative dance moves. When she gets distracted by the server at our table, I turn my attention to the floor below me.
I find Bastian in the crowd so easily. As if I didn’t have to try, my eyes seeking him out in every room I happen to be in, no matter the improbability.
What is he even doing here?
Somehow his eyepatch only further accentuates how lethal he looks, the angry scar below his left eye still red and visible, his dyed blond hair pushed off his face, the dark roots noticeable even from here. My breath catches in my throat when I realize he’s staring directly at me, his eyebrows pulled down, making him seem even more guarded and intimidating.
I turn around for only a second, moving to tell Lenix I won’t be long. When I glance back to where I saw him standing—he’s gone.
“No,” I breathe out. Hurriedly, I mutter something about going to the bathroom, not waiting for a proper answer, and fly down the stairs. My heart is pounding in my throat as I try to find him in the crowd. I can’t let him just leave. I can’t.
I’ve pushed myself through the crowd trying to get to where I saw him last, my hair sticks to my nape, breathless and overheated, when a hand grabs me by the wrist. The loud music swallows up my shocked gasp as my front is pushed against the large speaker near the edge of the dance floor. My adrenaline surges as I struggle against the hard body pinning me flat until Bastian’s voice finds my ear.
“Stop,” he rasps. His hands grab my hips forcefully, grinding me against him. He doesn’t let me answer, react ordoanything while his palms travel up my body, heatedly kneading my breasts.
I should tell him to stop. Confront him. Make himtalkto me but I do none of those things.
My body is ablaze, his every touch like another struck match. My head falls backward onto his right shoulder while his fingers greedily push inside the front of the bodysuit, finding my peaked nipple and rolling it between his index and thumb. I unabashedly moan, my eyes closing with the sensation of his hands finally back on my skin.
I can only see the right side of his face, and I try to find his gaze but I am distracted by his other hand smoothing up my throat, circling my chin, and turning my head toward him.
Then the world stops. Quiet. Because his lips are on mine, desperate and hungry. I whimper into his mouth, his hips still pinning me to the speaker, the vibrations thudding along with my heart. I need more of him. Better access. As if reading my mind, he spins me around, my back landing hard against the flat surface behind me. He cradles my face with urgency, deepening the kiss, his tongue finding mine, possessive and reckless. I’m losing myself in the moment, eager for him, starving, while I palm his erection through his jeans, unbothered by the crowd surrounding us.
Bastian breaks the kiss, his teeth nipping at my earlobe.
“You’re not dead,” he says almost to himself, his lips trailing down my throat, and it’s laced with such agonizing desperation that it impales me straight through the heart.
His words snap me back to reality. And I suddenly know with painful clarity that something is wrong. That even now, he’s not being himself. He’s lost and I’m not sure how to find him.
I stiffen under his touch, and I can tell he senses it because he tenses up too, stopping his heated kisses across my collarbone.
“Bastian don’t—” I begin to plead, but he’s gone before I can even react. His presence alone splits the crowd open and I watch him walk away while I try to catch my breath, my head spinning. Tears burn my eyes, but I don’t run after him.
Back upstairs, Lenix barely notices I was gone, having made friends with the table beside us. I force a smile for the remainder of the night, and pretend nothing substantial happened between then and now. My mind nostalgically replays bits and pieces of the road trip, desperate to feel anything else butthis.
43
The cigarette I must have still been holding has time to burn through the fabric of my shirt, then my skin underneath, before I bother to wake up. For a time-warping second, I think I’m back in that room.Maybe I still am, is the parasitic thought that always follows. I jerk upright, patting my t-shirt as if I’m putting out a raging fire on my chest, the orange cinders of the cigarette flying, while I try to grab the dropped butt before I burn myself again.
Fuck.
Must have nodded off on the couch. There’s an old rerun still playing on the television. My heart is pounding but my eyes are already drooping back closed, high as I ever could be on a random Tuesday morning. It’s been a few days since I made that first call. Everything else that followed was like muscle memory. The first hit was so strong and made me so nauseous that I threw up. But I managed. Knowing what was waiting for me on the other side if I just powered through and got over that first time.
Sweet fucking nothing.
