Page 79 of Nemesync
But I don’t. I look at her because I fucking can’t look elsewhere.
She’s my only view, always was my only fucking view.
“No one will lay a fucking finger on you, and if something happens, I’ll kill them.”
She locked eyes with me, seeking to understand my intentions, and said in that soft raspy voice, “Yet you’re the one squeezing my hand so tight that even after you let go, I’ll still have a mark from your touch.”
My marks on her. The thought of it felt delicious.
She pulled away from me, and I followed. Her steps were sensual and confident. I wondered what she was hiding under that coat. She passed through the door for dancers and staff, casting one last look at us before closing the door.
“It’s going to be fine; you’ll see.”
“Shut up, Niko.”
We took two drinks before he went to his meeting with his second-in-command, who had come from Italy, and I sat across from the stage where dancers had a fucking pole on the right.
Around me were Italian, Polish, and even Colombians, the most depraved of them all. They came only for flesh, and my heart pounded at the thought of her coming out from those curtains.
The music started to play around us, and the lights turned redder and bluer. Suddenly, the curtains are drawn slowly.
My heart stops.
She emerged—a body that made me want to forget everything and just take her away from here to be the only one to see it.
Her smooth legs extended from the slits, revealing the beauty of her curves. She was enchanting.
But then, she looked at me, fixing her long hair while approaching the pole to start her show. Men threw comments that made me want to put a bullet in each of their heads.
“I think she’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”
“I’d do some things to her. How much for a private dance?”
I wanted to end this.
Right now.
Right here.
She descended towards us, following the signals from her superior behind me, asking her to come down. I knew she was uncomfortable, and it hit a nerve, deep inside me.
Zanae walked among the men, some captivated by her beauty and body, while others whispered among themselves. She scrutinized them, only subtly listening to their conversation. Then, her eyes opened wider than usual, as if she had heard something crucial, or she was just surprised by their discussion, almost disgusted by it. Despite that, she continued as if nothing happened and went to get some drinks at the bar.
Such a smart girl.
My gaze followed her every move. She was too sexy in that outfit, and my body felt it a bit too much. My jeans felt tighter, a surge of blood rushed to my dick and my eyes lingered more on her exposed thighs, and that incredible ass.
What fueled this attraction the most wasn’t just her body.
It was everything.
The way her hair fell around her until the curve of her lower back, the contrast between her face and her much darker outfit. It was the whole package, and I no longer wanted these men to think what I was thinking. I despised her for making me feel this way. For making the monster in me escape the cage he’s trapped in and wanting to slaughter all these pricks just because their eyes landed on her.
It irritated me, and as I scratched my neck to clear my thoughts, I saw the eagerly awaited man of the evening arriving.
Rix.
An ugly Russian known for committing the worst atrocities, but what set him apart was his method. He didn’t go after men; he targeted women. And he knew things we didn’t, because I’m pretty sure he used the organization to ease tensions within his ranks. A woman died because of it. Nothing was certain, but it felt all too familiar.
