Rescue Me

Chapter 12. Chosen By Grace.

A current of self-loathing zaps through me. I’m already thinking of these bastards as the cattle she sees them as—faceless, nameless slabs of meat waiting for a brand. Without names, what the hell else am I supposed to call the preening peacock to my left or the hulking brute to my right? My thoughts would be just as insulting, but at least they’d be my own.

My mind flashes to Maddy, the woman from a few nights ago, her hands wrapped around her partner’s throat. I don’t even know his real name, she’d whispered to me at the bar, her eyes wide with a terrifying thrill. Anonymity in a place like Club Delco is a double-edged sword. For her, we’re just bodies without histories, tools for her pleasure. But every soul in this damned city knows the name Grace Lincoln. She has all the power, and we have none.

The line of hopefuls is dwindling. She only ever takes ten, and the ninth man just got the nod. There’s only one spot left. My jaw tightens. With a dozen men still between us, my odds, which felt so certain minutes ago, are now razor-thin. My pulse hammers against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat of need and fury.

Then, a miracle.

Grace glides past every single one of them, her movements liquid, predatory. The air crackles around her, thick with the scent of expensive whiskey and her own unique perfume—something like night-blooming jasmine and sin. She stops directly in front of me. Her gaze, the color of molten gold, travels from the tips of my worn leather boots, up the length of my body, and lingers on my hair before meeting my eyes. A perfect eyebrow arches in challenge.

“I’ve never f****d a redhead,” she says, her voice a low, smoky purr that sends a jolt straight to my groin. “Tell me, does the fire burn everywhere?”

I almost laugh. The sheer audacity. I fight the urge, my jaw aching with the effort. I need this. I need her. So I leash my pride and let a slow, insolent smirk crawl across my lips.

“You’ll have to get close enough to feel the heat yourself.”

“Oh? You’re not going to try and impress me like the others?” she murmurs, gesturing vaguely at the line of pathetic, hopeful men.

“I don’t need to,” I say, my voice dropping to match hers. “Either you want me, or you don’t. What’s in my pants isn’t going to change your mind, no matter how good it is.”

“You think you’re something special, don’t you.” It’s a statement, a dare.

I lean in, dropping my voice so only she can hear the venom and the promise. “The ones I’ve broken seemed to think so.”

It’s a cocky, brutal thing to say, but it’s the god’s honest truth. I know my worth, know the damage I can do. The sudden, desperate hope that I’ll get the chance to wreck her is so potent it makes me dizzy. I’d kill to see those perfect, golden eyes swimming with tears. Tears shed just for me.

A flicker of something dark and hungry crosses her face. Her lips, a perfect crimson s***h, twitch. She’s not just impressed; she’s intrigued. She gives a sharp, decisive nod.

“Fine,” she breathes. “You’re in. Don’t you dare disappoint me, Red.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Despite the confidence I project, my heart is trying to batter its way out of my chest. Red. I’d been bracing for Fire Crotch, Ginger, some other juvenile insult. Red… it’s simple, possessive. I shove the thought away before it can take root.

Grace turns to the room, her voice cutting through the tension like a whip crack. “The rest of you, get out.”

The rejected men shuffle out, a wave of disappointment rolling off them in palpable waves. The last one closes the heavy doors behind him, plunging the room into an intimate, suffocating silence.

Holy s**t.

This is happening.

“Been trying to get chosen for one of her nights for years,” the man beside me—the one who looks like a cheap action hero—whispers in awe.

“Is that right?” I ask, my eyes locked on Grace.

“Yeah, man. Everyone says she’s impossible to please. You must be new here.” He grins, oblivious. “Can’t wait to finally show her what a real man can do.”

I don’t grace him with a response. His tone makes me want to smash my fist into his teeth. Instead, I let the thought fuel me. How many of them had waited, begged, and schemed for a chance I just stole on my first try?

My attention snaps back to Grace. She stands before us, a queen surveying her chosen few. She circles the massive, velvet-draped bed in the center of the room, her eyes raking over each of us, assessing, planning. The breath I was holding catches in my throat. I’m waiting for a signal, a command. I’ve never done this before, not like this, not with her. I don’t know the rules.

She stops, her golden gaze landing on me, pinning me in place. The world narrows to the space between us, charged and electric. The other nine men fade into irrelevant shadows. There is only her, and there is only me.

Her lips part, and she gives me my first command. A command that isn’t a suggestion, but an indictment. A promise.

“You,” she says, her voice a silken lash that curls around my very soul. “On your knees.”