Page 23 of Retaliation
He chuckled, and the gravelly sound of his voice had me biting down on my lip. “Whatever I want? You might want to choose your words more carefully, pet.”
I turned away, pretending to be unaffected even as Mina screamed for me to fuck this dark and delicious creature. Images of my naked flesh pressed against his Bronco as he pounded into me flashed through my mind. Before he could see my flushed cheeks, I pulled the helmet over my face.
“See ya around, monster man.”
My body was reacting too often to these dark princes, and I needed some space from this beast of a man. I forced myself not to look back as I spun out of the lot and away from Ty Radnor and his stupid, gorgeous, evil face.
I turned up my music, blasting out some boss bitch tune. Grace’s version of “You Don’t Own Me” filled my ears, and I belted out the lyrics into my helmet as I zipped down the highway into the city. Fuck these guys and their sexy smiles and piercing eyes and rough hands and just—fuck all of it. Okay, no, don’t. Because apparently I was way too keen to fuck all of them.
I nearly upended my bike when I slammed to a halt in the parking lot, arriving at the club in a matter of minutes. I grabbed my backpack and pushed into the back entrance of Noircoeur. Tibby usually came to my performances, but I didn’t feel like talking about any of my feelings about Ty, so I ducked directly into my dressing room instead of meeting her at the bar first.
There was a bottle of champagne and a single rose on my vanity. I looked around, but there was no note. Who sent this? It couldn’t be Ty. He wasn’t the type. I racked my brain until it clicked and I smiled. Devon. He’d brought me champagne last time. But how did he know I was working? I’d also ignored his texts today. After the bomb of my father and sister being in the hands of the monsters I was hunting dropped, I couldn’t fake feelings of happiness or pleasure with that on my mind. Apparently, beating the shit out of Ty had helped, though. Whatever. I poured a glass of champagne and gulped it down. I couldn’t get shitfaced before singing, but a couple glasses wouldn’t hurt. I picked up my phone and texted our stage manager. Tonight, I was switching things up, something a little less retro and a little more intune with my current feelings.
A variety of dresses hung in my closet, but the black bodycon dress would fit my song of choice perfectly. The sweetheart neckline and soft fabric hugged my curves like a second skin. To complete the outfit, I pulled on a pair of black, leather, knee-high boots, then walked around the room, letting my feet adjust to the four-inch stiletto heels. The braid in my hair left it all kinky, and I used a two-inch curling iron to add some styled waves to the mess. It looked freshly fucked, which worked well with the outfit. Lastly, I chose bright-red matte lipstick over my usual burgundy pout and black eyeshadow for an extra smokey, badass look. I stared at my reflection.
This would be the first time I’d be on stage without a wig. Everyone would recognize me after this. It was pretty impossible to forget the icy blue hair. Well, fuck it. This performance deserved a little more of the girl hiding in the shadows. Let them see. I poured a second glass of champagne and walked out of the dressing room, toward the stage. Josie rounded the corner, her brown eyes going wide.
“Holy shit, Sara. No wig?” She smiled broadly as she flipped my hair, her body shimmering in glitter.
“Nope.” I shook my head and rolled my shoulders back. “Switching things up tonight.”
Josie clapped excitedly. “Hell yeah, girl. I’ll be sure to grab a seat out there.”
I saluted her with my glass and headed to stage left, waiting for my cue. The other girls on stage finished to a rowdy round of applause. The house was packed for a Wednesday night. My eyes closed as I took a deep breath, feeling the anxiety rushing out of me. This was my happy place. On stage, singing like the world could end at any moment. And I knew it could.
I heard my cue, smirking at the name I gave for tonight’s introduction, Harley Quinn. I never used my real name, it was more fun this way, to be someone new each night. Not Sara Braun or Seraphina or the lonely girl with nothing and no one, but a character people could love and adore. I sauntered on stage with a smirk on my red lips and fire in my eyes. The catcalls came quickly, and I gave a little turn, resting a hand on my hip as I stopped in front of the microphone.
“This one goes out to all my ladies waiting for a real man to step the fuck up. Don’t settle for less, bitches,” I crooned into the microphone before downing the champagne. I tossed it to a table in front, and some guy surprisingly caught it. I kept my eyes up, not looking into the crowd. I didn’t want to know who was watching, didn’t care.
The music pounded out through the club’s speakers, and I pressed my lips close to the microphone as I sang out the first line of the song. The words were desperate, begging for a man who could handle a woman with a dark side.
I heard Josie’s wolf whistle in the crowd and grinned wickedly as I sang, feeling the words of the song in my bones. My fingers stroked the mic stand, and my hips swayed to the music as the words tumbled out of me. My voice belted out the last lyrics, forcing the audience to feel some type of way. The final notes rang out over a mesmerized crowd, and I blew a kiss and flipped off the audience as it ended.
The audience erupted into applause, men and women standing, whistling and yowling excitedly. I continued to stand there for a solid sixty seconds, my chin high and my hands on my hips, taking it in like a fucking queen. Intermission music began to play, and my heels clicked as I sauntered to the stairs in front of the stage. Several men jumped up to offer their arms as I descended into the crowd. None moved to touch me, as if I was above them all, though I felt their hungry gazes on every inch of my body. I spotted hot-pink hair at the bar and walked casually toward Tibby. Ryan, the bartender, slid a glass of champagne to me as I leaned next to her.
She sipped her drink with a smile. “That was fucking brilliant. You should dress like this always.”
I laughed. “It felt fucking brilliant. I needed that.”
Tibby nodded. “I know. Ty is here.”
I snorted, rolling my eyes. “Not surprised. Dev?”
Tibby shook her head. “Actually, I haven’t seen him. He was still working at the bar last I checked.”
I slid my empty champagne glass back to the bartender, and he instantly moved to fill it.
“That was badass, Sara.” Ryan winked, topping up the glass.
I grinned. “Thanks, Ryan. Glad you liked the show.”
“Digging the blue hair too.” His eyes roamed over my face. “It suits you.”
A shadow appeared behind me, and I felt his muscular frame closing in as Ryan’s eyes widened and he backed away.
“Hello, pet.”
Tibby kept her body angled toward the bar, her face buried in her martini. I turned around and leaned back on the bar, my arms resting on the edge, and looked up into Ty’s face. He wasn’t exactly scowling, and I noted the curve of his lips and the glint of mischief in his hazel eyes. Strands of hair framed his face, and his bun was messy, like he’d stuck his head out the window on the highway.
