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“Can we dance up there?” Lilah nods toward the cage, never once fighting my grip on her throat.
“Fuck yeah we can.” A rumble rocks my chest, and I tug her into my arms, steering her to the cages and protecting her from the eyes and crowds. Everywhere Lilah’s skin touches mine is electric, alive and bright instead of the dull, nothing numbness that drives me to drink and fuck and stir shit up.
I don’t want to let her go.
Keeping her close, I cut to the front. The club girl running the line spots Lilah’s hoodie and scowls. “You can’t—”
“We can.” I dead-eye her.
She yelps, scrambling back and opening the cage door wide. “My mistake.”
Fucking right.
We climb in alone, and I shouldn’t be able to hear anything over the pounding music, but I catch Lilah’s breathy gasp when the cage lifts. Once we’re up, dangling from the ceiling just high enough to make you feel alive, she laughs, clear and bright.
Gripping the bars like it’s not her first time in a cage, Lilah drops low, arching her back and flashing that sweetly curved ass.
I want her holding onto me instead of those bars, but she doesn’t even try to move closer, just feeling the music, throwing herself into the beat like she’s begging for salvation, like the beat’s the only light in her darkness
I fucking feel you, girl.
I move behind her, caging her in, and Lilah rolls with it, rubbing up on me so good as she shakes her ass.
The bass drowns out my satisfied purr.
Where the fuck did that come from?
The sound steals my attention long enough that I spot Hunter. He’s waving off beta bitches, pacing back and forth, looking everywhere for us.
Kinda makes me cackle. I grind on my babydoll until his gaze snaps up.
What a sweet, sweet scowl.
Hunter points down and mouths something.
I cup my ear. Can’t hear you, motherfucker!
We dance a few more songs, and I’m alive, heart pumping, adrenaline roaring in my veins, heat and color, and everything until I realize Lilah isn’t moving.
She grips the bars, shaking.
“Babydoll?” I pry her hands away from the metal.
“Tired,” she murmurs, head lolling against my chest. My heartbeat levels off and I let out a breath. I was worried—
Holy fuck.
I was worried?
Me?
I haven’t worried about shit since I notched my first kill at seven years old. I wasn’t supposed to start assassination work that young, but what are you gonna do when you get kidnapped and tortured?
It was kill or be killed.
I won, and nothing seems important since.
Only a few things make me feel alive.
