Page 16 of A Dance With Devils
“Malachi, you said you’d behave appropriately.”
I look upwards again, searching the sky for flashing lights, and then relax back into the car rather than bother. “The definition of appropriate is murky, Whit. Especially where she’s flying to.”
He growls under his breath, as I reach for the drinks caddy and pull out a bottle of vodka. “Who is she to you?” I ask.
“No one,” he grumbles.
A laugh chuckles through me. No ones don’t get this sort of protection from Eli Whitney. No ones get ignored, killed possibly. Protection means he’s either paying down some debt for her, or it’s personal. Not as personal as his daughter, who, regardless of him not liking my methods, is now a damn sight more level headed after I played with her, but my Alice is something special nonetheless.
“Just bring her back in one piece, Malachi. At least I know she’s relatively safe with you.”
“Another murky definition.”
The car cuts into downtown and slows. Clubs, laughter and nightlife spilling out onto the roads around us. I smile at it all and pull in a long breath. It’s been a while since I lost myself in downtown. Been a while since I frequented anywhere that wasn’t cut crystal and champagne while I’ve been back here. Perhaps I should go fuck something before I begin playing, find something that is simple and easy. It is the real world after all. And these are the real people in it. Drinks, no pills. Just some obscure corners and dirty tables.
A blonde steps out in front of the car, her body folding across the hood as she tries to regain balance. Could be useful. Attractive enough. She smiles through the window at Grant, presumably trying to tempt the man with the expensive car into fucking her, looking after her for a night, maybe marrying her and providing a life better than she has. “Malachi?” Whit.
I’d forgotten about him.
“Hmm?”
“She’s important to me.”
I nod to myself at that and press the intercom to have Grant pull over, my hood closing over my head in the same breath. “I’ll play elsewhere first then. Temper myself.”
Perhaps.
“Wait here somewhere,” I mutter to Grant.
Ending the call to Whit, I step out of the car and round it to get to the woman trying to walk along the sidewalk. She’s smaller than she looked from inside, petite. Like my little Hannah. Or Gray’s Hannah. In fact, apart from the lacking elegance and the blonde hair, it could almost be her if I closed my eyes and remembered. No tattoos that I can see coming out from under that short skirt, though. No olive toned skin either to interest me like my Alice did. This is pale flesh. An unkempt form in her post club experience. Disordered make up, a cigarette in her hand.
One thing’s for sure, she won’t taste like Hannah does.
And she’s not really worth my time at all.
My head shakes, shrugging the hood down lower, and I follow along the road behind her until she veers into the dark confines of a cut through. All alone. Stupid. Or maybe she knows this part of town, knows the dirty things that happen in back alleys near dumpsters and is looking for trouble down here. I might be that trouble. I’m not sure yet. I could also be a hero tonight, stop the attack she’s likely to get at some point soon.
Decisions, decisions.
She looks over her shoulder at one point, one hand instantly going to the wall to stabilise herself. And then she waits. She waits and balances herself there, her back finally coming to rest against the wall as if offering herself to me. I stand still twenty feet back from her and consider how I’m feeling about that offer. How am I feeling? Energised still? No, flat again. Bored. And distracted by olive skin and tattoos.
A sneer settles on my face as I watch the woman keep her gaze focused on me. She’s smiling, smoke filtering through the air as she exhales and leans sideways to offer herself up some more. I despise easy. Loathe it. I would rather she ran, ran like the wind and made me chase her down to get my blood pumping. I’d enjoy the fuck then. Celebrate the scream, or pretence of it, and motivate more of them. Everything’s too damn easy, though. Too puerile and artless.
Still, I said I’d temper myself. And this woman is it for the night.
Chapter 7
Ally
Short of one time in my life, I’m panting harder than I think I’ve ever panted before.
And not in a good way.
Where the hell I am, and what is currently going down around me, is unknown. All I can hear is the low whirl of these blades above me beneath these ear muffs things, and all I can feel is the heat of two guys crowding me into the small space. I didn’t even know the blades were here at first because a bag was shoved over my head before we left the house, but I felt the fucking ground leaving us, felt my stomach falling out of my ass as it got louder and eventually rose from the ground.
I fought. I fought with everything I had. Begged and pleaded with them to let me go, to let me out of this thing. But now, because I know I’m hundreds of feet in the air I can’t even get out, or attempt escape, because if I do I’ll clearly fall to my fucking death.
But then we all will.
