Page 8 of Friends With the Monsters
“I don’t want people seeing us together.”
My head jerks back, but I let out a bitter laugh. “Harsh much?” I turn and walk away from my car, leaving him standing in the parking garage. Over my shoulder, I wave at him with a single finger salute. “Fuck you, too, Gunnar. I should have let your guts fall out.”
Even my stomping footsteps don’t hide the sound of his shoes eating up the distance between us. He grabs my arm, but I tug free from his grip and slowly turn to face him. “Don’t. Touch. Me.” I let a little of my power seep into my voice. I’ve never had to fight anyone physically, but I feel like I could rip his head off right now if I wanted to.
“That’s not what I meant. You took what I said wrong.” Gunnar pulls his hand back and drops his arms to his sides.
“So, it meant something other than you don’t want people to see us together? Maybe I need to get my ears checked, ‘cause that’s what I heard.” I cross my arms over my chest. I’m offended. I’ve never had a man say they didn’t want to be seen with me. I’m fucking beautiful—I don’t even need a dash of makeup. My skin is flawless, my lashes are long and dark even though I’m a natural blonde, and I have lips that make men dream of blow jobs. I could give Vanessa and her fake, fat-filled ass a run for her money any day of the week.
What the hell is wrong with me? Until I met this man, I could count how many times I’ve been insecure on one hand, but between the shitshow with Aeson earlier and now, I’m about to surpass my old totals.
“Most people don’t like me, Damiana. If people saw us together, they might hurt you because of me.”
I skeptically peer sideways at him. “I’m not sure if I should believe you, or if you’re trying to cover your own ass.”
“When I said I didn’t want to be seen together, it had nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me.”
I unfold my arms and smooth down the front of my sweater. “Okay, but you should work on your delivery.”
“I will,” he promises.
“I’m still going in there.” I motion over my shoulder in the direction of the club. “I’m really not worried about what people think, or if people see us together, but if it makes you feel better, you can ignore me.” I walk away from him then, even though something inside of me is rebelling at the idea.
Sauntering over to one of the many exits of the parking structure, I take note of the city around me. It’s Thursday night: not the best night for hunting, but doable. The sidewalks are teeming with people walking to and from bars and restaurants.
“Cindy knows I’m not coming home. I told her I’m tired of her thinking she can run my life.” I slurp up the little lie like an hors d’oeuvre. The man talking to his buddy gets a small smudge on his soul for his sin. I squint my eyes and notice all the spots starting to pool together. If he keeps it up, there will be consequences.
Big lies, little lies they all leave a mark, even the ones we tell ourselves.
“Hey, beautiful, not your usual night,” Mick the bouncer drawls as I approach.
“I was in the neighborhood,” I reply, letting my eyes scan past the smallish line of people waiting to get in. “Busy?” I raise my brow, a little surprised.
“Usual crowd for a Thursday.” He steps to the side and sends his arm out in a slight wave, indicating I’m good to go right in.
I never have to wait, but I never presume that will be the case every time, either. “Thanks, Mick.” I give him a kind smile as I pass. His cheeks actually tinge a slight pink as I do.
“Anytime, beautiful,” he mutters almost wistfully.
The hall is dark, lit with only blue, cone-shaped lights directed at the high ceiling. I’m not sure I would want to see what’s staining the wall below the lights anyway. After a short walk, I meet another bouncer, but this one is newer. I don’t know his name yet.
He opens the door with a slight bow, tipping his head to me. It almost feels purposeful, not just a standard greeting. I open myself up to see if he tastes human, but this close to the club my senses always get muddled. The only way I could be sure about him would be to touch him, and I don’t want to invite that kind of familiarity. I keep my eyes on him as I pass, but he directs his gaze to the floor.
The rush of energy from the club doesn’t wait for me to enter. Instead, it pours out the door and slams into me like a physical wall, distracting me from the strangeness of the security guy’s behavior.
I let my head fall back loose on my shoulders and accept the waves of sin tingeing the air. My stomach aches a little with a hunger pang as I step through the door and into the club proper.
I glance over my shoulder, wondering if I’ll catch sight of Gunnar. He’ll probably wait another few minutes before even coming in. If he knows Vanessa, I’m sure the security knows him, too, so he probably won’t have to wait in the line either.
A man passes me, near enough to touch. He’s leaning in close to a cute girl with blue dyed hair, chopped into pixie cut, her eyes are all soft and glassy. She’s either already a little drunk, or she’s buying into every line he’s cooing into her ear. There’s no major deceit, just the little things people say to one another when they want to get laid. I guess it’s probably something like ‘you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,’ or ‘I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you.’ Bullshit, utter bullshit, but it’s what she wants to hear, and he’s more than happy to oblige if it means she’ll let him fuck her against the wall later tonight.
I take in the tiny lies and move deeper into the club. The dance floor is filled with girls dancing alone and in groups. Most of them have their arms raised in the air and are rolling their bodies seductively. I take note of several men on the outskirts watching the show, most of them with lust in their eyes and hearts.
One couple catches my eye. She’s a pretty blonde, with her hair pulled back into a messy bun, letting a few soft tendrils fall around her face. She’s tugging on the hem of her short skirt as if she’s completely uncomfortable, while her eyes are trained on the man next to her—probably her boyfriend, if the anger seething off the blonde is any indication. She’s absolutely enraged at the way he’s watching the other girls and ignoring her. His eyes are bouncing over the dancing crowd, until he finds a dark-haired girl. Her skirt is so short you can see the bottom of her ass cheeks as she hops around.
Her arms are thrown in the air, and she’s dancing like she doesn’t care who’s watching. She’s not being overly sensual, but something about her screams confidence, andthatissexy. She doesn’t have to try.
I make my way over to the bar, keeping my eye on the three of them. My bet, and I’m usually right since I have a knack for these things, is that before the night’s over, I’ll have a fat meal from whatever is brewing between them.
