Page 40 of Feed Your Fiends

“I very well could be yours,” I say, strangely and warmly loving the idea. “And besides, Hale’s white too.”

Rie Rie gives me a look. “Oh, you’ve never been to Pierrot's, have you?”

I shake my head. “Strippers deserve cash for all that ass-shaking. Unfortunately, I can’t spare them a coin.” I glance at the dozens of bottles around us from The Watering Hole and think how just a week ago, I had twenty-seven grand. Then I gaze at the patrons and wonder how much we’ve made back. “But what does going to Pierrot's have to do with Hale being—”

I never get to finish my question because the double doors of the upper balcony open, letting in a rush of icy air into the warm club and a drop-dead gorgeous Stassi who herself is so damn icy, it almost hurts to look at her.

Her neck is wrapped in so many diamonds that her breasts, pushed to her chin in an emerald corset instead of the worker’s sage green ones, are barely visible. Her gloved wrists look like she’s wearing cuffs from how many diamond bracelets she’s looped around them. Even her feet that slip out from the long hem of her sheer skirt are glittering in the golden lamplight.

A crew of drop-dead gorgeous men in suits surrounds her just as the lights dim and a spotlight flickers on in tune with the musical number that inspired her outfit. The live band below, shaded beneath sparkling umbrellas, can’t pull my attention away from her, though. She’s mouth-watering, breathtaking as she opens her lips, and lyrics as beautiful as she is slip out.

A tinkling sound alerts me to the rafters, where ten men spread above and behind Stassi’s head are slowly pouring something that looks like…rain. Dazzling, glimmering rain. But as the crowd squeals and drops into a crouch, I realise it’s not water. It’s…

“Crystals!”

“Swarovski!”

The tinkling seems endless as Stassi continues belting her notes. I had no idea she could sing, much less sing and dance as she shimmies around the balcony bopping each man’s nose with her fan. But it’s the last man she bops that breaks my concentration because he’s not looking at the blonde I can barely peel my eyes off of. No, he’s glaring down at me, those black pits boring straight through my skull as the song ends.

“Thank you all for coming to my birthday party,” Stassi says, her voice somehow shimmering just as much as the diamonds around her throat.

All at once, hoards of men lift their coupe glasses to toast her.

“We love you, Stassi!”

“I love you too,” Stassi says breathily with a little wave and kiss of her gloved fingers. It’s no wonder these men can’t resist her charm. Well, all but one.

I can’t breathe or move. I’m pinned beneath those black irises that are swirling with a derangeness I almost can’t fathom.

“Just as much as I love this club. Libellule is my favourite new spot. So I hope to see you all here next weekend too. And the week after that. And the week after that,” she teases as a massive gilded cage slides across the ceiling on a rig toward her.

Hale loved the idea of beautiful libellules dancing above the club.

“Are you going to dance for us, Stas?” some bloke screams from below, and Stassi pulls at her sheer skirt that pools around her feet before stepping into the cage.

“It’s what I do best,” she grins as the band erupts into another song.

From this angle, I, and the entire crowd have a magnificent view of her heart-shaped ass devouring the bottom of the corset. It’s so distracting that it nearly stops me from finding him again, but he has my eyes on a wire.

He takes one small, calculated step forward, toward the ledge Stassi just stepped off of. Suddenly, I’m aware of how false my sense of security amongst the vast crowd and across the room is because Gant free-falls over the balcony and grabs the golden chain of Stassi’s cage in tune with her blood-curdling scream because someone else is hanging from the cage too.

Hale.

Elle

The metal cage squeaks from the strain of the added weight. It dangles back and forth precariously as Hale pulls himself up and into the cage with Stassi as if he doesn’t notice Gant at all.

The band below screeches to a halt. Given the size of the crowd, it should be impossible to hear what’s being said from so high up and yet, Hale’s voice, strained and breathy, creeps along my ears like an icy spider because of Stassi’s microphone.

“What do you have on?”

“The uniform,” Stassi says, a timid smile creeping across her lips. “I know you’re short-staffed. I figured I could help as a feature tonight with my dancing.”

Fuck,do they know we can hear their muffled whispers?

Rie must be thinking along the same lines because she shoots from around the bar and heads for the band.

“You’re not the help, and it’s your birthday.”

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