Rage (Her Monsters Book One) - K.A Knight Page 0,61
the music pulsing. My heart races in time to it and I lick my lips as I step out and whistle at the club before me. The place is huge.
Chandeliers, with dancing women, hang low from the ceiling over the wooden dance floor where hundreds of party goers writhe to the music. Two bars, both busy, run on either side of the club with at least a five person line waiting to be served.
The walls are done in black with wood accents, and neon red lights are everywhere. It should look cheap but for some reason it doesn’t. I don’t spot a VIP area anywhere, but to the left and right are two curved staircases leading up to a floating platform above the dance floor. Guessing that’s where it must be, seems right that the rich bastards would be lording over the regular folks. A woman in a tiny black dress and ridiculously high heels totters past with a tray on her arm.
I follow her progress and squint at the booths I didn’t see before. Lining the wall on each side of me, almost removed from the rest of the club, are deep red and wooden booths, which are filled with women in scantily clad dresses and men in suits. It looks like a mafia meeting. It probably is.
Stepping forward so I’m not just standing there gawking, I make my way to the dance floor. It’ll look strange if I try and head straight upstairs, plus the music is pulling me to dance.
Slipping through the bodies, I wind my way into their mass. The music calls to me until my head is thrown back and I’m losing myself in the rhythm.
“I told you to go home,” comes Griffin’s annoyed voice right next to my ear.
Grinning, I keep dancing as his hands drop to my hips and tighten, stopping my movements. “Dawn,” he growls, the sound sending shivers down my body as he whispers in my ear.
“Yeah, I don’t do well with orders,” I joke, leaning back into him, his body to calling mine.
“I’m not joking Dawn, go home,” he grits out, his voice silky and sending dirty thoughts spiraling through me. His body, against mine with the music in the background, is making me almost pant as I try to stop myself from pushing back against him. I have to remind myself he’s a stranger, and an arrogant one at that.
“Neither am I.” Turning in his hold, I arch my brow as I lean up and wrap my arms around his neck. His eyes flare before they narrow on me.
“This is none of your business, go home before you get hurt,” he demands, as his arms tighten and his eyes flash dangerously. You can feel the power running through his body, one he holds in check so tightly.
“Too late,” I whisper, with a disgusted twist of my lips.
He frowns, and his eyes flash faster as his hand tighten again, bruisingly so. “What do you mean?”
I laugh, starting to move to the music so he has no choice but to move with me. “You really think I would be hunting these bastards for fun?” He scowls hard, his eyebrows slanting, and I grin sardonically. “They killed me, drugged me, and threw me in a cell. So, sorry Griffin Sweetheart, not even you can stop me.”
I feel the anger racing through his body, and his jaw grinds as he stares at me before he pushes words out through gritted teeth. “You should let this go, some very powerful people want these men and this crime circle dead, and you getting in the way will only draw attention to yourself. Trust me, you don’t want to draw their attention.”
Rolling my eyes at his threat, I carry on dancing. “That man killed me, the one upstairs imprisoned me and tortured countless women, and then sold them. So no, I won’t be letting this go.”
He growls, like actually growls. His eyes turn darker, with what looks like smoke or mist twirling faster and faster in their depths. “Dawn,” he warns again, but I just turn my back on him and carry on dancing.
I feel him gearing up for an argument when I spot Marco. Zoning Griffin out as he lectures me on safety and bullshit, I watch the bastard who threw me into the cells as he walks through the club like he owns it. To be fair, he does, but he acts like a god. I can’t wait to make him fall like one.