CHAPTER 12

I can’t believe it. The squeal is barely held back when my friend and I are granted entrance into Chicago’s newest nightclub, Crush. The entrance is completely dark, with only a flashing strobe light giving us any ability to see as we make our way through the hallway to where a man stands at a door. We hold out our hands for him to stamp and hand over the cover charge for tonight. He smiles, and I swear my ovaries burst. He’s beautiful, with long, dark hair that flows across his shoulders, bright green eyes, and a body to make any woman want a night alone with him.

The music vibrates through my body as I step into the large room. Crush is an apt name for the club, as every single person is crushed together as the music pulls them into a mindless dance. Fingers twine in mine as we make our way to the bar to get our own party started.

The bartender is just as beautiful as the man at the door. Only his hair is the white blond I imagine Vikings of old had, and his body is just as ripped and toned and muscled as a Viking’s would be. His ice-blue eyes spear mine, and I feel lost, sinking into them, until my friend snaps me out of it by ordering a drink. I do the same and look away from him. Best not to get too caught up in the bartender. I don’t plan on any one-night stands tonight. I just want to dance and forget the stress of the week.

“This place is amazing!” she shouts in my ear, and still, I can barely hear her.

The music is loud, but I love it. This is what I’ve craved all week. To be able to let go and feel only the music. To forget everything as my body sways to the beat. It breathes through me like a living entity.

The music changes to a slow, exotic beat I’ve never heard before, but it strikes a nerve not only with me, but with the mass of human flesh writhing around us. The lights dim, only the flashing neons around us visible as we dance. This place has definitely lived up to the hype.

Hours pass as we consume more drinks and exhaust ourselves on the dance floor. The alcohol has made its way through me, and I feel free as I dance. Soon, I look up and realize my friend is nowhere near. Where did she go? She’d tell me if she had to go to the bathroom. Like me, she’d never come here alone, and she wouldn’t go to the bathroom alone either. It’s not safe, especially not in a club. Even the safest club in downtown Chicago is not truly safe.

I weave through the crowded floor to see if she’s in line at the bathroom, but I don’t see her. I wait a few minutes in case she’s inside, but when more and more people exit only to be replaced by those waiting, I know she’s not there. The bar, maybe? I go that way, and I don’t see her there either.

“Need another drink, Beauty?” the bartender asks.

“No. I’m looking for my friend. Did she come by here?”

He shrugs. “Did you check the VIP lounge up top?”

“We’re not on the list.”

He smiles, and I swear it could melt the coldest of hearts. “Just because she isn’t doesn’t mean she didn’t meet someone who was.”

That’s true enough. I don’t think she’d leave me alone, not even for access to the VIP lounge.

“Want me to escort you upstairs to look for her?”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course. I can see you’re worried. We want our guests to be happy and have a good time.”

It’s nice of the Viking to do this. “Thank you.”

He smiles again, and my remaining ovary bursts. He’s so beautiful it actually hurts to look at him for too long.

Someone takes his place behind the bar, and his hand settles on my back as we walk toward the back of the club where the VIP lounge stairs are located. Another bouncer waits there, and the Viking speaks to him. He moves aside and lets us go up the stairs. A door is at the top, clearly marked VIP. Inside, the music is different, not as loud, but still as soul catching. The softer tone slithers through me, and I sigh at the differences. I’m not sure if I prefer the loud, vibrating beats of before or this gentler sound, but it’s still heady music.

She’s not on the dance floor, but I do see her sitting in one of the booths, wrapped around a man. I can’t believe she left me downstairs alone to go make out with a stranger.

“There she is.” I point to the booth where she’s sitting.

“You sound upset.”

“We never go to clubs alone, and we don’t leave each other either. It’s not safe.”

An alluring smile tilts his lips. “Are you angrier she left you alone or that she went off by herself?”

I exhale, not expecting the question. “I guess that she left and went off by herself without even telling me.”

“Well, now that you see she’s safe and sound and I have a few minutes, will you dance with me, Beauty?”

He holds out his hand, and to refuse is impossible. I take his offered hand, and he leads me to the dance floor, where I’m pulled tightly against him. He smells so good. I lean in even farther and inhale deeply. It’s smoky, and there’s a hint of cherry as well. I’ve never smelled anything so intoxicating.

“What’s your name?”

“I am Andre.”

Andre. It’s a nice name.

The music thickens around us, and I’m lulled by the beat and the man surrounding me. It’s nice.

“You care very much about those close to you, do you not, Beauty?”

“Yes.” I’m starting to feel a little sluggish, like the alcohol I’ve consumed all night is finally starting to hit me. “Can I sit down?”

“Of course.” He leads me to an empty booth, not far from where my friend is sitting. He sits, pulling me into his lap. I cuddle into him, tired. He feels cool against the heat of the club. It’s nice.

“I don’t feel good.”

He strokes my hair. “You have been dancing all night. I would be surprised if you felt good. You must be exhausted.”

I sigh and settle deeper into his embrace.

His fingers trace the tattoos that snake up my arm. “Why do you have so many tattoos?”

“They’re my shield.”

“How do you mean?”

“They let me hide.”

“Hide from what?”

“From everything. From how I feel most days.”

“And how do you feel most days?”

“Like I’m not enough. Like I’m worthless.”

“You are far from worthless, my Beauty.” His lips graze my earlobe, and a full-body shudder goes through me. “It has been a very long time since I have taken something for my own.”

What does he mean? “I don’t understand.”

“Shh,” he whispers and tilts my head up so I’m staring him in the eyes. “You do not need to understand, just know that you are seen.” His lips come down on mine, and I’m lost. The sensations are too much, too raw, and I whimper, trying to pull away from him.

“I…” I pause to catch my breath when he finally releases me.

“Come home with me, my Beauty.”

I want to say no, that I don’t know him, but I can’t. It’s as if a hazy fog has descended upon my good sense and I can’t tell him no.

“I will keep you safe.”

But what if I need to be kept safe from him?

“Bjorn, tell the others I am going home for the night. Miska can clean the bar tonight since I did it for her last week.”

“Be well.” Bjorn goes back to entertaining my friend.

Andre stands and lets me slide down his body, and I blink, trying to clear my head, but I can’t. Instead, all I can do is follow along behind him as we leave the club through a back entrance. The air outside is cooler but still not cold. Soon, though, fall will set in, and the nights will be cold. I hate the cold. I should really move south, but I know Chicago. It’s home.

“Come. It is but a short walk to my home.”

Good sense starts to prevail, and I can shake some of the fog off my brain.

“I don’t know…”

He stops and turns, pinning me against the building, and fear burns more of the fog away.

“I will not hurt you.”

I’m not so sure about that.

He leans down and kisses me, the fog starting to take over my brain again, but I’m ready this time and fight it. I’m not a stupid girl, and I’m not about to let this beautiful stranger turn me into one.

“Your will is stronger than most.” The whispered words are like a cold bucket of water. I’ve lived in this city long enough to understand there’s more than humans who live here.

“What are you?”

He smiles, but instead of answering, his mouth lowers to my throat, and an intense feeling of desire overwhelms me. A prick of pain wiggles at the edge of my awareness, but I’m too lost in the feelings of desire to pay it much mind.

“Would you like to never feel inadequate or like you are not enough ever again, my Beauty? I can give that to you.”

More than anything. My head lolls to the side, and I’m exhausted, my limbs going numb. I would have fallen had he not held me.

“You taste of the dark, my sweet girl, yet you are so innocent and caring. I am going to give you back your sense of self-worth. You will always be enough.”

A dark, bitter taste invades my mouth, and I try to spit out whatever he’s given me, but he holds my mouth closed, and I swallow the thick liquid.

Part of me understands what this is, the part that knows what’s in the dark of the city, but another part of me screams, “No. It’s not what it seems.”

“You are a part of me now, my sweet. I am going to take you somewhere to rest, and when you wake up again, I will have your dinner waiting for you.”

I don’t feel so good. My stomach hurts.

He picks me up, and then we’re walking. Someone asks if we’re okay, and he assures them we are, that I just had a little too much to drink. Laughter echoes around me, and it’s quiet as he carries me through the darkness.

But he stops abruptly. There’s an alertness to him that wasn’t there before. He puts me down and tells me to stay quiet.

I watch through heavy eyes as he turns, surveying the area around us. Something’s growling. But it’s unlike any growl I’ve ever heard. A breeze ruffles my hair, and then Andre is airborne, flying through the night. He lands against the tree and is still for only a moment before he’s up and snarling. His eyes have bled to pools of icy blue. There’s no pupil, and his eyes glow.

I shake my head and try to get to my feet, but it’s impossible. I hurt. Everywhere. Fear has invaded my mind, and I know I need to run, but my body is refusing to do as I tell it. Which only makes me more afraid. I’m going to die. It’s a deep and abiding knowledge that has sunk into my bones. I need to get away from Andre before he can retrieve me. He’s distracted, and I need to use that, but I can’t seem to move. Why can’t I move?

A creature lands in front of me, and I try to get away from it. It’s the most horrific thing I’ve ever seen. Like Frankenstein, only a monster version of it. The face is made up of wolfish features, but if you look at it from another side, you’d think you were looking at a cat, but from a different angle, you could discern a bear. Its body is lithe but bulging with muscles from beneath patchy and sporadic fur. Its skin is a dark reddish purple and looks like one big bruise.

Its teeth.

Dear God. Its teeth are large and razor sharp, elongated, and match the claws on its six-fingered hand.

“Leave her be,” Andre says. “She is in the middle of a turn and helpless.”

Laughter bubbles out of the creature, and its voice sends shards of pain through my ears. This thing has no thoughts of mercy.

It pounces, not at me, but at Andre. I watch as it rips him apart, hear his flesh tear. His screams echo around us, and still, all I can do is lie here and watch his death, unable to move, as my own limbs have ceased to work.

It turns to me and advances. Blood drips from teeth meant for me.

And as those teeth sink into my own flesh, all I can hear is the sound of my screams puncturing the quiet of the night as I die.