Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Iris

The pulsing electronic beat fills my ears as I gyrate and twirl around the pole, hands caressing the cool metal.

Red and purple lights flash across my skin, painting me in a seductive kaleidoscope of color.

Beads of sweat drip down my bare back but I keep moving, hips swaying in perfect time.

I lock eyes with a handsome patron in the front row and give him a sultry wink, ramping up my sex appeal as I slide down into a split.

A thrill rushes through me as the men hoot and holler, throwing bills onto the stage.

Dancing at Satin Dreams is already such a rush, so different from working in the tattoo parlor.

It’s a different type of high.

The clientele here are rich, powerful men in expensive suits, not any of the gutter rats from the rough sides of Tinsel Creek .

I should thank Rosa for getting me this gig and saving me from the inability to pay my bills.

Flipping my long deep brunette hair over my shoulder, I crawl seductively to the edge of the stage, back arched.

With a coy smile, I accept the cash being waved at me, tucking it into my lacy bra and panties.

The song crescendos as I pull myself up the pole, twirling and flipping my legs over my head to cheers from the crowd.

My adrenaline is pumping, sweat glistening on my tattooed skin as I lose myself in the erotic dance.

As the final notes of the song fade out, I strike a provocative pose, one hand on the pole as I lean back, pushing my ample chest forward.

Wolf whistles and applause reward my efforts.

I strut offstage, a satisfied smirk on my glossy lips.

Nothing makes me feel more powerful and alive than commanding a room full of men with the sensual movements of my body.

Backstage, I grab a towel to dab at my damp skin and neck.

Some of the other dancers nod at me approvingly as they get ready for their sets.

"Nice work out there, new girl," Raven, one of the veteran strippers, says as she touches up her dark lipstick. "You've already got them eating out of your hand."

"What can I say, I know how to put on a show," I reply with a confident toss of my hair. "This place seems like a good setup."

Raven arches one of her perfectly sculpted brows. "Mmhmm, just be careful. Management expects us to do more than just dance, if you know what I mean. The big money is in the private rooms."

My stomach twists a bit at her implication.

I'm no stranger to getting cozy with clients, but the fact that it seems almost mandatory here puts me on edge.

I signed up to dance, not turn tricks.

But I need this job and the fat paychecks that come with it.

I can't afford to have anything off-limits.

Forcing a breezy smile onto my face, I shrug. "Nothing I can't handle. Wouldn't be the first time I've had to fend off a handsy customer."

"I'm sure you're an expert, honey." Raven chuckles before sauntering off, her sparkly G-string catching the light.

I head over to my locker and check my reflection in the small mirror hung inside the door.

My dark eyeliner is slightly smudged, giving me a smokey, sultry look.

I reapply some ruby red lipstick and shake out my long hair so it tumbles over my shoulders just so.

Giving myself a little nod, I adjust my black lace bra, custom made to showcase my killer tattoos.

I look every inch the sexy, edgy fantasy I aim to portray.

Just as I'm about to close my locker, a flash of color on the tiny TV mounted in the corner catches my eye.

A news report shows shaky camera footage of what looks like a drug bust, a grim-faced reporter speaking into a mic.

"...Authorities are not revealing much about this latest raid, but sources say it may be tied to an ongoing turf war between an unnamed source and the Crimson Reapers motorcycle gang..."

My heart leaps into my throat at the mention of the Crimson Reapers—Lyon’s club.

Why can't I escape that man?

Tearing my eyes away from the troubling news report, I slam my locker shut and take a deep breath, pushing all thoughts of Lyon out of my mind.

I have to focus on my job, on making that money.

For fuck’s sake, I need a fresh start.

I can't afford distractions or complications.

This is my chance to take control of my life and get back on my feet.

Squaring my shoulders, I strut out to the main floor of the club, my stilettos clicking on the polished crimson floors.

It's time to set aside Iris, the girl with the troubled past and bad taste in men, and become Ivy, the untouchable seductress who beguiles and teases, but never lets anyone get too close.

I scan the crowd, my painted lips curving into a mysterious smile.

Who's ready to play?

I saunter through the club, hips swaying to the seductive beat pulsing through the speakers.

The air is thick with desire, the musky scent of cologne mingling with the sweet notes of perfume.

I can feel eyes on me from every direction, heated gazes that caress my skin like a physical touch.

It's a heady feeling, being the object of so much wanting.

It makes me feel powerful, untouchable.

Spotting a well-dressed man sitting alone at a table, I make my way over, sliding into the booth beside him with a coy smile.

"Hey there, handsome. Looking for some company tonight?" I purr, leaning in close.

His eyes rake over me appreciatively, taking in my barely-there lingerie and the tempting expanses of inked skin on display.

"I am now," he rumbles, his hand coming to rest high on my fishnet-clad thigh. "What's your name, gorgeous?"

"Ivy," I reply, letting my crimson-tipped fingers walk playfully up his arm. "And I'd love to show you an unforgettable time... for the right price."

He grins wolfishly, already pulling out his wallet. "Oh, I'm sure we can come to a very satisfying arrangement."

I lean in closer, letting my glossy lips brush the shell of his ear as I whisper sultrily. "Then let's head somewhere more... private, shall we? I promise I'm worth every penny."

Taking his hand, I lead him toward the VIP rooms in the back, my heart thudding in anticipation of sealing the deal.

But even as I put on my most seductive smile, my traitorous thoughts drift to a pair of piercing blue eyes and a dangerous smirk.

Damn it, Viper.

Even when I'm with another man, it's still his face I see.

His touch I imagine.

As I sway my hips to the sultry beats pulsing through the space, I spot an open door across the way.

My blood runs cold as I recognize the emblem emblazoned on his leather cut—the sigil of the Crimson Reapers.

Lyon's club.

What the hell are they doing here at Satin Dreams?

A knot of dread tightens in my stomach.

This can't be good.

Especially not with Viper skulking around, too.

It's like my worst nightmare comes to life.

I strain to hear over the music, and a familiar voice cuts through the din.

That sneering, arrogant drawl... It's unmistakably Lyon.

"Well, I guess we'll see who's still standing when the dust settles," he remarks cryptically to someone I can't see.

A shiver runs down my spine at the veiled threat in his words.

Suddenly, I feel the heat of several pairs of eyes boring into me.

I glance over to see Lyon staring straight at me, a predatory gleam in his gaze.

Shit. He's spotted me.

I quickly avert my eyes, panic rising in my throat.

Maybe if I slip away now with this customer, I can avoid a confrontation.

I make a move to bolt, but Lyon is faster.

In a few swift strides, he's in front of me, fingers clamping around my arm in a vice grip.

The customer raises his voice. “Hey man, she’s mine. Wait your turn.”

I wince at the painful pressure as he yanks me toward him. “No, she’s mine. Get lost, dipshit.”

My potential customer scurries off, and Lyon waves his finger in front of me.

"Not so fast, baby girl," he growls menacingly. "We've got some catching up to do, you and I."

Before I can protest, he's dragging me across the floor, his bruising hold brooking no argument.

He roughly shoves me through the open door into the private lounge.

I stumble, almost losing my footing in my sky-high heels.

Regaining my balance, I take in the room—all dark woods and burgundy leather.

My heart nearly stops as my gaze lands on the two people inside. Scarlett, one of my fellow dancers.

And him—Viper.

He meets my startled stare with those piercing blue eyes, a ghost of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

The look sends an illicit shiver through me, even as my mind screams danger.

What the fuck is going on?

How did I manage to walk right into both Lyon and Viper?

Lyon slams the door shut with an ominous click, caging me in, a sense of cold dread settles over me.

I have a bad feeling I'm about to find out just how deep this rabbit hole goes.

And that I might not like what's waiting for me at the bottom...

I whirl around to face Lyon, mustering every ounce of bravado I can. "You can't just manhandle me like that! I’m not yours anymore, Lyon."

His answering laugh is cruel and mocking. "Oh, but I think you are, baby girl. See, you work in my strip club. Which means..." He takes a menacing step toward me, then another, backing me up until I'm pressed against the wall. "You're still on my turf, and I'll do whatever the fuck I want with you. Did you really think you could escape me?"

Panic rising in my throat, I glance desperately at Scarlett and Viper.

Both of them just watch impassively, making no move to intervene.

Lyon's hand shoots out, clamping around my throat.

I gasp for air as his fingers tighten, cutting off my oxygen.

Black spots dance in my vision.

This is it.

He's actually going to kill me this time.

"I should snap your pretty little neck for leaving me," Lyon snarls, his face a twisted mask of rage. "Teach you what happens when you disrespect me like that."

I scrabble uselessly at his wrist, trying to break his hold, but it's futile.

He's too strong.

As my lungs scream for air, I feel myself starting to fade...

Suddenly, a metallic click pierces the blood roaring in my ears.

Lyon stiffens, his grip slackening just slightly.

"Let her go. Now." Viper's voice is pure steel, sharp and unforgiving as a knife's edge. "Before I redecorate the walls with your fucking brains."

Lyon barks out a harsh laugh, but I can feel his hand trembling against my skin. "You wouldn't dare. This place belongs to the Crimson Reapers."

"Does it look like I give a shit?" The cold barrel of a gun presses against Lyon's temple, digging cruelly into his flesh.

Viper's blue eyes are twin chips of ice. "I said. Let. Her. Go."

For a taut, endless moment, no one moves.

No one even breathes.

Finally, with a muttered curse, Lyon releases me.

I slump against the wall, gasping and coughing, my lungs burning as blessed air rushes in.

Viper never wavers, keeping his pistol trained on Lyon.

When he speaks again, his words drip with lethal promise. "If you ever lay a fucking hand on her again, I will end you. Slowly. And trust me..."

His smile is downright feral. "It'll be the last goddamn thing you ever do."

The VIP room door bursts open with a resounding bang, startling us all.

In the doorway stands a towering man with dark hair and cruel eyes, his leather cut emblazoned with the Crimson Reapers' emblem.

It’s Lyon's older brother and President of the club, Jaxon.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" Jaxon's gaze flicks from Viper to Lyon, a single brow arched high. "Mind telling me why you've got a gun to my baby bro's head, Viper?"

Viper doesn't even blink. "Your 'baby bro' needs to learn some fucking manners. Thought I'd give him a little lesson in that respect."

Jaxon chuckles, but there's no humor in it. "Is that right?"

He strolls into the room, his very presence seeming to suck the air out. "How 'bout we all just take a breath, yeah? I'm sure we can come to an...arrangement."

My skin prickles with unease.

I don't like the calculating gleam in Jaxon's eye.

This man is used to getting what he wants, by any means necessary.

Viper's jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek.

But slowly, reluctantly, he lowers his gun. "Fine. Let's talk."

"That's more like it." Jaxon settles into a plush armchair, looking for all the world like a king on his throne. "So, Viper. Besides the obvious..." His gaze slides meaningfully to me. "Why are you darkening my doorstep?"

Viper's lips curve in a razor-sharp smirk. "Funny you should ask. See, I've been thinking about a career change. Figured it's time I became a respectable businessman."

Lyon scoffs. "You? Respectable? That's fucking rich."

"Shut it, Lyon," Jaxon snaps, never taking his eyes off Viper. "Go on."

"I want to buy Satin Dreams."

The bald statement hangs in the air.

My jaw drops.

He wants to... what ?

Lyon leaps to his feet, face mottled with fury. "Are you out of your goddamn mind? I'm not selling!"

Jaxon silences him with a look. "Last I checked, little brother, Satin Dreams belongs to the club. To me. So how 'bout you let the grown-ups talk, yeah?"

As Lyon splutters in impotent rage, my mind reels.

Jaxon steeples his fingers, pinning Viper with a penetrating stare. "An interesting proposition. But I gotta ask...what's in it for me?"

Viper leans back, all coiled intensity. "I'll sweeten the pot. Got some old contacts, from back in the day. Heavy hitters. I'll set up some meetings, arrange some deals. Plus..." His gaze drifts to Lyon, and there's murder in his eyes. "I want his head on a fucking platter."

Fear lances through me, cold and sharp.

Lyon's face drains of color.

But Jaxon just laughs, rich and dark. "You don't ask for much, do you Viper?" He considers for a long moment, the tension stretching taut. "All right. You got yourself a deal, but my baby bro is my problem, not yours."

Relief crashes over me in a wave.

It's really happening.

Satin Dreams will now shift ownership to Viper, and that means I'll never have to answer to Lyon again.

I'm free of him.

But Viper's next words snatch the breath from my lungs.

"And Lyon? If you so much as look at Iris again, if you even think about laying a finger on her..." He leans in close, his voice a lethal purr. "Even your big brother won't be able to protect you. I'll rip you apart with my bare fucking hands."

Oh god.

The images that flood my mind are so vivid, so visceral.

Viper, all rippling muscle and coiled strength, pinning Lyon to the wall, choking the life from him.

Defending me, protecting me, claiming me.

Heat rushes through my veins, molten and hungry.

I can't tear my gaze from Viper, from the play of emotions across his rugged face.

Possession.

Fury.

Desire.

It mirrors everything raging in my own heart.

In this moment, I want him with a ferocity that terrifies me.

I want his hands on my body, his mouth crushing mine.

I want him to consume me, possess me, own me.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know it's wrong.

He's dangerous, lethal, a killer.

But god help me, I don't care.

I'll follow him into hell if he asks me to.

Because despite everything, there's one irrefutable truth blazing through me: I'm his.

Body, heart and soul.

And no force on this earth can change that.