Page 9 of Redemption

“Where’s Stacy?” she asks, and her eyes are slightly unfocused as she squints at the crowd of people swaying on the dancefloor.

Franklin sighs and rolls his eyes. “Not you too, Abby. Come on, I’ll get you home before you stumble off with some hottie.” He wraps a supportive arm around her shoulders and starts to steer her away.

She sways into him, and it takes all my willpower to stop myself from tearing her friend away from her.

She clearly needs the support, and I’m a stranger to her.

The stranger who plied her with alcohol and then cornered her at the bar. I practically groped her in public.

No wonder her friend is considering me through narrowed eyes. I must seem like a predator to him.

I am a predator, but not in the way he thinks. The idea of claiming Abigail when she’s inebriated leaves me cold. I want her fully aware of every moment we share. And I don’t want her to experience an ounce of regret in the morning.

So, I fold my arms over my chest and remain rooted to the spot while I watch him steer her toward the exit.

“Is Stacy okay?” I hear her ask. She’s speaking unnecessarily loudly; she’s clearly lost her volume control.

“I don’t know.” Franklin is exasperated.

“We can’t leave her,” Abigail insists.

“She already left. We can call…” Their conversation is lost beneath the pulsing music, and I’m left standing in the corner like a granite statue.

My teeth are locked hard enough to make my jaw ache, but I have to remain resolutely still to prevent myself from going after her.

A mad idea sparks.

I can’t let her slip away.

I need to know this woman, and I won’t give up so easily.

My coiled muscles relax, and I saunter after her, keeping a dozen revelers between us to conceal the fact that I’m following her.

I didn’t even get her number. I can’t openly pursue her now without drawing negative attention from Franklin. He’s clearly protective, and I don’t want him to try to stop me from getting to my prey.

It would be unfortunate if I had to hurt her friend.

That would complicate my plans to seduce her.

I follow them out into the night, trailing her until she disappears into a dilapidated apartment building.

When I’m reassured that Franklin isn’t in her apartment—I can see her clearly through her window that provides a view into her living room—I stroll away from her.

I know where she lives now. I can come back in the morning.

I’ll find a way to conveniently meet her again. Charleston isn’t a big city, and it won’t seem too strange for us to see each other coincidentally.

She won’t know that our second meeting will be by my design.

I’ll have Abigail in my bed, and I’ll learn her darkest secrets. She will surrender, and then this strange, clawing need that’s assailing me will abate.

3

ABIGAIL

Now

Iwaver in and out of consciousness, completely disoriented. I’m only semi-lucid for a few minutes at a time before I feel the prick of the needle, and the world dissolves again.

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