Dark Queen - Ker Dukey Page 0,8

joints, hunger to make weight goals, and pain from injuries.

They were all dancers at one point—probably still identify as that. They know the work, the sweat, the hope, yet they’re dismissing us without even paying attention to our talent.

A rebellious, aloof brat buried deep inside me shouts, “Fuck you all!” But I never give her freedom. Instead, I snatch up my water bottle and the paper with my details on and exit the room, ignoring the looks from the other dancers with the same dream, the same hope that’s about to be destroyed.

My mother’s face filters into my mind, and my stomach bottoms out.

Sorry, Mom.

I need air.

I need to get out of this place.

Without stopping to change or take off my ballet shoes, I race down the corridor, heat blooming up my neck, goosebumps sprinkling along my skin as my head begins to fog.

My lungs restrict, squeezing. I can’t breathe. I fondle with my bottle to open the lid and go to take a deep swig, oblivious to the door suddenly opening in front of me.

A man steps out, colliding into me. My bottle slams against my lip, digging into my gums. A spurt of iron liquid fills my mouth, the sting grounding me, evaporating my mild breakdown.

The bottle clatters to the floor, spilling at my feet and those belonging to a pair of black shoes standing in front of me, almost toe to toe.

My eyes trace up a tailored, suit-clad body, his stance emanating power. My breath quickens when I have to keep looking up, well past my own height.

A broad chest, muscular shoulders filling out the suit jacket. His pulse flickers in his neck as my eyes devour him.

An audible swallow leaves me desperate for more water when I reach his face.

His bearded, square jaw tenses under my scrutiny. Olive skin, thick lips, and the most spellbinding blue eyes peer down at me with dark intent.

Blood coats my lips, pumping from the cut there. His glare fixes on me, rendering me motionless.

More rich assholes.

Probably one of the other dancer’s relatives giving a fat check to get her in.

Why, oh why, did he have to be so beautiful? Life is unfair at times.

These places aren’t run on talent—they’re run on the biggest donation.

The thought forms an anxious pit in my stomach. It opens up, slowly dragging my dreams inside it. Red hot fire flares within me. No matter how good we are, we’ll never stand a chance.

“Excuse you,” I snap, raising my chin.

The asshole hasn’t even apologized or picked up my water bottle.

He looks like he’s going to some extravagant soiree. Even has a stupid square stuffed in his breast pocket.

Another man fills the doorframe behind him—another well-fitted suit and stupid good looks. His gaze studies the interaction, not bothering to pick up the fallen bottle or offer aid to my busted face either.

Just another beautiful, bad-mannered prick. They must breed them here.

Blood trickles down my chin, dripping to the floor at my feet. My lip throbs in rhythm to my erratic heart.

“You’re making a mess,” the blue-eyed asshole in front of me growls. My jaw almost dislocates in astonishment. No sorry. No are you okay?

“Pardon me for bleeding,” I spit, snapping myself out of his thrall.

“Clean it up,” he tells me, his tone low, eyes narrowing. Heat spreads up my spine, exploding over my cheeks. My racing heart makes my breathing labored.

Swiping my information form across my mouth, dabbing the blood there, I bend down to grab my bottle.

When I rise, he snatches my jaw between his thumb and forefinger. I squeak out a surprised whine. My eyes enlarge as he takes the pad of his thumb and smears the new crimson across my bottom lip.

I’m frozen, my limbs filled with concrete as he holds me captive.

No one has ever touched me this way before, with such possession and confidence, not even my dance partners over the years.

The action is intimate, the rumbling sound from the back of his throat sexual, making me flush all over.

With an indecent tilt of his lips, he exhales, “My shoe.” Leaning in, his breath minty and warm, disperses over my skin.

Fingers tighten on my jaw painfully. I squirm from the pulse of pain and embarrassing throbbing inside my panties.

Part of me wants him to push me against the wall and fuck all this animosity and irritation out of me.

A perfect stranger. A one-time hate-fuck.

He releases me, and my eyes drop to his feet.

There, on his ridiculous clean leather shoe, is a single