Chapter 14: How To Get Kidnapped Without Technically Getting Kidnapped
1071 Words
RAE
I was perfectly capable of having fun on my own, like every other normal person on earth.
How hard could it really be?
The DJ began playing a popular pop song and everyone on the dance floor went crazy. Bodies shoved into me. I had to hold out my hands to shield myself, but the dance floor wasn’t exactly the ideal place to stand completely still. I could do this.
Growing up, I wasn’t a terrible dancer. In fact when I was six, I came third in a neighborhood dance competition.
That trophy was still on my award shelf in my old bedroom.
I moved my hips to the beat, whipping my hair back and forth because I thought people still did that.
I stepped on someone behind me.
“Sorry!” I yelped and drew back, but then I stepped on someone else again, twisting my ankle this time.
“f**k!” I winced and hopped on one foot.
“Are you blind?!”
I assumed that was my cue.
If I didn’t leave now, the club staff might have to remove me from this dance floor on a wheelchair.
“I’m so sorry.” I pressed my hands together over my mouth. “Sorry.”
The last thing I needed was to get into a fight I couldn’t win. My omega wolf didn’t even stand a chance against the weakest human alive.
I texted Mandy as I walked over to the bar for shots. She would laugh her ass out if she was here now.
When Wondra TV hired me four years ago, we hit it off on my first day, even though she was slightly older than I was and practically my boss.
She had been the extra push I needed in my life ever since. I went out more, travelled more, lived more. I learned how to be happy after we met.
But I should have just stuck to a dark corner of Obsidian where no one would have seen me, drinking shots until I blacked out.
And maybe lose my memory of today while at it.
Club Obsidian had a good reputation. Their security kept a close watch on guests and tried their hardest to ensure that everyone who crossed their doors reached home safe afterwards.
It still didn’t mean I had been here before.
Nightclubs and crowded spaces weren’t my scene.
I hated the feeling of other eyes judging the parts of me my mother always condemned.
“Excuse me,” a deep voice said.
I turned to find a man dressed in black leather pants and a vest. Chains looped down from his belt and into his left pocket. He had a very prominent eyebrow piercing, and a face caked in smoky makeup.
I couldn’t help the quirk in my brow. “Is there a problem?”
“No. None at all,” he replied with a smile that was supposed to be charming, and then I caught myself staring at his platform boots.
I didn’t look like someone who had any interest in fashion, but I was secretly well-versed in it.
Enough to have scripted over twenty record-breaking features about it in one lifetime.
His choice of footwear just deeply offended me.
“Someone wants you up there in VIP.” He pointed at something behind me and clasped my shoulder before I could object, steering me around.
After a few seconds, my eyes zeroed on the stairs shrouded in darkness at a far corner of the floor.
A tall, gym-built bouncer stood, feet planted apart in front of the red roped stanchions warding it off.
But why was I looking at him and thinking of the giant monsters in Johnie’s bedtime stories?
“This someone doesn’t have a name?” I nudged out of his grip.
“You’ll know when you take a look at this.”
I crossed my arms, refusing to collect the small crested box he held out.
“Listen to me, I’m a married woman. And even if I wasn’t, tell whoever’s up there I’m not interested in being a hooker.”
When I tried to walk away, the man blocked my path.
“That isn’t what this is about. Please, take it.”
“So it’s not money?”
His shoulders slumped. “Just take it.”
I assessed the box for a long minute, catching my bottom lip between my teeth while tapping my foot repeatedly on the floor.
I decided I was going to open it and fling the contents in his face since he didn’t want to leave me alone.
The box felt heavy in my hands when I took it. Its engravings were nothing short of luxurious.
I just knew some rich fool thought he could buy me. Maybe I should have never worn this dress.
My fingers found the clasp.
I pulled the lid open, and a split second later, it slipped out of my hands, as if I had just grasped a burning furnace.
The clatter of the iron against the tiles was so loud I jumped out of fear.
The black lace thong inside it stuck out of the lid that I hadn’t shut.
I staggered backwards and looked up.
The man was gone.
Quickly, I swiped the box from the floor and held it against my heaving chest.
The issue wasn’t the thong. It was the fact that it was mine.
Malachar had ripped it off me weeks ago, and I thought it would have been discarded by the housekeepers later that morning.
The cold hands of realization gripped me like a vice.
Slowly, I glanced at the path leading to the VIP lounge upstairs.
I walked over to the secluded stairwell on wobbly legs, but before I could even open my mouth, the bouncer pulled the red rope to let me pass.
“Thank you.”
He ignored me, and I climbed.
On the landing above, my steps slowed, my heart pounded like deafening drums.
I opened the door and found a well-lit cozy lounge behind it. A garden of plush armchairs and divans crammed together perfectly.
But it was empty.
I craned my neck, taking further steps inside. “Hello?”
Wind brushed past my back, hard and fast as the door slammed shut. I reached for it, but I was too slow.
Malachar had locked me in.
And an awfully wicked smile crossed his face.
- Writer
