Page 20 of Primal

Yo reaches across the table and grabs my hand in hers, breaking me from my thoughts. I will the tears not to fall.

“How have you been, Kee?” she asks softly. This is the first time I’ve been out of the house since Grandma’s funeral. She’s been the most amazing friend, calling and texting to check on me, and when I told her I needed some time to myself, she gave it to me without a second thought. She’d send a text occasionally to let me know that she was there, and I feel so lucky to have a friend like her.

I’d kept most of what was happening to me from her, too, but after that night, I spilled everything. I told her all about my dark desires and that I still craved Zyran’s touch, even though I blamed him for Grandma’s death. She didn’t judge me like I’d assumed she would, and that made me feel like the shittiest friend for keeping so much from her.

I sigh and run my thumb along her knuckle absentmindedly. “I feel better. Today is the first time in a while I’ve felt normal.”

She smiles sadly. “Grieving can take such a huge toll on you. You don’t even realize how much it affects you until you have your first ‘normal’ day.”

I nod. “Yeah. But I don’t want to talk about that right now. I just want to have fun.”

She grins and pulls me from the table to the dance floor. Clubgoers cheer as Dance With Me by 112 blasts through the speakers, filling the room with its heavy bass. I catch two guys staring at us from the bar.

“Feeling lucky tonight?” Yolanda purrs in my ear, practically eye fucking the one on the right. He licks his bottom lip and walks over, his friend following suit.

I plaster a smile on my face and hope I don’t look terrifying.

“Hey,” the guy on the right says to Yo. She giggles as he grabs her hand and pulls her away.

“I’m Malcolm,” my guy says, holding out his hand. His teeth are so white they practically blind me in the dimness of the club, and his dark brown eyes are the same shade as his skin, which is smooth and unblemished. The curly hair of his beard just barely connects to his fade, and his long black hair at the top is tied into a bun. He’s dressed in blue jeans and a crisp white shirt and shoes—fresh from head to toe.

He’s perfect, and yet I can’t help but think of Zyran.

I take Malcolm’s hand gently and shake. My eyes scan the room for Yolanda; a part of me wants to pull her back and cling to her, but I also don’t want to be a cock block.

“I’m Kiara.”

He smiles handsomely and nods toward the dance floor. “Dance with me?”

Before I have a chance to respond, he grabs me by the waist and pulls me against him. I dance stiffly as he instantly starts grinding his hips against mine, rough and demanding.

I try to enjoy dancing with Malcolm, but my mind keeps wandering back to Zyran and the complicated feelings I have for him right now.

Malcolm must sense my discomfort because he stops dancing and quirks a perfectly groomed eyebrow at me.

“So, you don’t want to dance?”

I never said I did, asshole.

Instead of saying what’s on my mind, I shake my head and say, “I’m sorry. I’m just not in the mood, I guess.”

“Are you in the mood for something else?” he asks, lifting the corner of his mouth in a sly grin.

“I’m really not,” I snap, irritated at his insinuation. Any attraction I had to him just a few minutes ago is now diminished.

He takes a step back like I’ve pushed him—which is impossible, considering he’s got to be well over six feet tall—and glares at me. “What did you just say?”

“I said I’m not in the mood to do what you’re clearly wanting from me.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say or do anything, just stands there glaring down at me. Then, he’s suddenly gripping my arm and pulling me in the direction of the restrooms.

“Get off me!” I yell, beating at his arms as he practically drags me behind him, like I’m a doll. Everyone on the dance floor is too preoccupied with themselves and each other to even notice what’s happening, and my heart races at the fact that we’re almost to the hallway where the restrooms are. Once we’re in there, I won’t be able to get out.

I start frantically trying to tug my arm out of his grip, but it’s like a vise. He won’t let me go.

Shit!

Now we’re in the hall, and I can barely see a foot in front of me because it’s so dark back here. Malcolm continues down the hall until we’ve reached the men’s restroom. He opens the door and pushes me inside. I fall to the floor as he towers over me menacingly, and just when he takes a step closer, he’s suddenly yanked back through the door.

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