Page 11 of Raine
The light is dimmed behind here, eliciting enough light to see but not bright enough to draw attention to the naked eye. My eyes, however, feel like there is a thunderstorm raging within them.
I’m about to step toward the curtain when a hand catches around my waist, and I heave in a staggered breath. I don’t break the hold because I know who it is.
“Good luck tonight, Raine,” Arrow whispers, his tone somber, and I wish I could take his pain away.
Turning in his hold, his leather jacket crinkles and I meet his cognac eyes. There is no emotion within them; he is closed off, and I hate when he does that.
“You could head up to my dressing room and help yourself if you like,” I hedge, giving him the in he may want.
He shakes his head and steps away from me, his warmth and scent moving with him.
He’s wearing a tight black shirt under his opened leather jacket and tight black jeans with his shit-kicking boots, his toffee-colored hair styled and pushed back. He looks hot, as always.
“Have a good night, Princess. I’ll catch you later.”
He turns away, and I panic, calling out, “You’re not staying for the show?”
He freezes, his back turning rigid underneath his jacket. He cranes his neck over his shoulder to look at me. There’s something floating in his eyes, but when he blinks, it’s like it was never there.
“I’ve got some errands to run.”
“Oh.”
“Goodnight, Raine.” And with those lingering words hovering and dispersing in the air that separates us, he exits the backstage area and leaves me feeling bereft.
The announcer booms again, and I shake the interaction from Arrow from my mind, shimmying and shaking out my hands beside me.
“Now put your hands together and make some noise for,” he pauses for theatrics, then continues, “Raiinnbbooww.”
Showtime.
Chapter6
Raine
The crowd is loud, and the noise and energy ricochet around me, vibrating inside of me. It’s euphoric —a rush that I’ll never get tired of.
I step out onto the dimly lit stage, the light barely spreading a foot in front of me. Everyone is quiet, waiting, anticipating for the lights to flare brightly and showcase yours truly.
I breathe in deeply, the drugs lighting my body up from the inside and sending tingles throughout. Once I’m in the center of the stage, I start to stomp my feet in a booming rhythm.
Although I can’t see patrons in front of me, I can feel the tension thrumming around the room — the vitality and wanton need within them. After the fifteenth stomp of my foot, purple and white lights fill the stage around me, and I keep my head hanging low, my long hair cascading around me, producing a barrier between me and them.
I feel invincible, on top of the fucking world, as the drugs root themselves deep inside of me. They give me a freedom I could never put into words, allowing me an escape from my thoughts and liberating me from my insecurities.
Flicking my hair around, I drop low, spreading my legs wide, before I slowly stand and drag my hands up my body as if it were a lover’s caress instead of my own. Sparks fly from my fingertips, my body lighting up while I take in the heady feeling of power. They’re here for me — here to watch the seductive Raine Voroniva flaunt it.
When I reach my tits, I squeeze and peer into the crowd, a smirk lifting my lips. I let myself go, dancing and humping the stage for what feels like hours, but in reality is only minutes. Crouched down on the floor with one leg stretched outright, I peer into the crowd and smirk at them. I inhale their hoots, wolf whistles, and applause like it’s the last meal I’ll ever eat.
“Are you all ready to get dirty?”
On cue, Christina Aguilera’s voice fills the air, and my girls rush out, and we start bumping, grinding, and swinging our bodies like it was the air we needed to breathe.
The choreographed routine we’ve practiced on loop for the past month runs through my mind like I’m sitting on one of those flying swing rides at the carnival. Wild, free, and fucking fast.
The smile I’ve been nursing for the past ten minutes or so threatens to break my face with how hard the muscles are working, the drugs having well and truly taken over. I don’t smile often, let alone for this fucking long. But it feels good.I feel good.
When the songs finish, we wind down, slowing the tempo until we are huddled in close, our breaths becoming one with how close we are.
