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After a morning full of disappointment, I headed back to the cove. My anger was chilling my body, that icy feeling steeling me, making my walk back home harder. I got the usual gasps and whispers from the homeless people, and now Randall greeted me with a glare.
Ignoring it all, I arrived back at my tent and froze.
Something feels off.
Searching around, I didn’t notice anything out of place.
Did one of the stragglers come into my area?
Frowning, I opened my tent, the feeling of unease increasing. There was a strange scent in the air—an earthy musk. It smelled faint, but it was there—the smell of a man.
What in the ever-loving fuck?
I crouched down, crawling toward the back of my tent. The smell grew as I closed the space around me. Did someone try to rob me? My book was still there, a dark fairy tale retelling of “Beauty and the Beast,” and the clothes I threw off before going hunting were there, too.
Unsure, I lay down on my pillow, puzzled at the weird sensation. Heat arose on my chest and neck. I started to sweat, and I just felt suffocated. I dug into my bag of clothes, stripping off my hoodie and tank top, letting the breeze from the river hit my fevered skin.
The cool air caressed my nipples, and the relief made me sigh in contentment until I found my black thong near the tent’s entrance. It was slightly damp, and I tried to recall if I’d gotten caught in the rain or maybe had been sweating from pulling that lanky tweaker from my car.
Feeling that strange heat again, I lifted the garment to my nose. The unmistakable scent of musky salt and chlorine was so strong that I could taste the smell on my tongue.
“Ewwwe,” I gasped, dropping the panties to the floor.
What in the sick fuck?
Did one of the homeless men think it would be funny to play a prank on me? Did those ballsy mother fuckers think they could violate my sleeping quarters?
Like hell.
Disgusted, I threw the underwear into the darkness of the tunnel that was about five feet from my tent. The damp thud when it hit the ground made me gag. Pausing to catch my breath, I thought about Randell. I knew he was mad at me, but I never dreamed he’d stoop to a college-level prank.
“Damn,” I muttered, rifling in my bag for a different pair.
I didn’t keep many clothes here, but I hid bags around the city. That way, wherever I ended up that night, I knew where the closest stash would be. My hand landed on my sequined red cocktail dress, and I paused. Chewing my bottom lip, I knew what this dress meant. I knew where it could lead…
“Oh, fuck it.”
I yanked the dress out of the bag and over my body without anything on underneath. This damn thing only went as low as my ass cheeks, and if I so much as sneezed, it was going to give anyone close by a free show.
Well, it looks like it’ll be a party.
* * *
The noisy club had me stiffening. All these people bumping up against me, some trying to grind on me until my face showed them what a bad idea that was. Finally, finding the bar, I sat down on the first empty stool I touched.
After a while, I started to think this was pointless and that I was wasting my time until a man’s arm reached out and grabbed me.
“Sorry about that,” a nice, male baritone voice said. Pausing, I grasped onto his arm and squeezed back.
“No problem,” I said.
Four big, tall, burly men lined up beside the man who’d just gripped my arm. As they approached the bar, I covertly flanked them, moving so I was sitting only a few seats away.
“Hey, gorgeous.” The handsome bartender gave me a blindingly white smile. “What are you having tonight?”
I worried my lip.
I didn’t drink because I absolutely didn’t want to end up like the alcoholic who birthed me into this fucked up world.
