Page 29 of A Dance With Devils
I sway, watching her colours glowing at me as she readies her mouth for more, and I remember my Grandfather for some reason. He said that. He said we’re from a different plain than ordinary people. We look like them, and move like them and talk like them, but we’re nothing like them. Too much money for ordinary. Too much power. Only gravity holds us here, he said. And only the extraordinary interests us.
“Extraordinary,” I muse, watching the colours around her face.
Reds, blacks, greens. Bold colours. Live and vivid, as she stares. I move closer, entranced by them, or her, or the whole damn pull that keeps dragging me inch by inch towards something I’ve been without until now.
“I don’t want this, Malachi,” she shouts, shoving at my chest and stumbling backwards up the steps again to turn and run. “I don’t and I won’t-“
She will.
I move swiftly, legs climbing two at a time to get to her and grab her into my hold. Her head’s wrenched back, mouth opened and the pills slipped in before she gets a chance to protest. More wide eyes dragging me to them, as my hand covers her mouth and nose. Pretty eyes. Soulful and warm. So many colours in there. Not blue. Not green either. Hazel flecks, lines that move and undulate around the dark, dilating pupil. Wide lips under my fingers, pouty. I like that.
She struggles and writhes, trying not to swallow.
“Swallow them down, little Ally cat. Don’t try to fight.”
More hostility. More battle in my hold. I like a fight, enjoy the power play. Maybe she’ll fuck and run, let me play all night, all week. I chuckle and watch her wide eyes widening further, her head shaking as she realises she’s running out of breath. “Just swallow. It’ll be done then. I’ll let you go.” Not before making sure she joins, though. Not before she stares into my eyes, makes the bond and loses herself. Then she can run again, try to pretend it isn’t happening.
The throat finally does at it needs to do, and I slowly release my hand. Nothing for a moment. Just our eyes and her panting breath under me. "Good girl." Silence. Not even the pulse of this music seems to be making an impact on the connection. My lips drop down to hers, softly brushing over them because I can’t help myself. She’s rigid – unmoving, but she won’t feel it yet – too soon.
Time is what she needs.
Easing her to stand again, I back away and let her make some choices on how she’d like to play. We could fuck now, make it easy and simple. Or she can stretch the night into days and the days into weeks and the weeks into fucking months if she’d like. More pills is all we’ll need. More pills, this place, and time where there isn’t time to contend with.
“Are you running again, little Alice?”
She stumbles, lips parted, as she turns her head to look behind her. The maze of rooms is all she’s got. Contemptible rooms. Insidious rooms where everyone is free to do as they choose. And she’ll be so pretty in all of them. Maybe stretched, hung, racked and beaten.
My smile broadens, feet wandering around her where she’s still perched as if not knowing what to do. “I want my tattoos, Ally cat,” whispers out of me. “Bared, stripped. Hunted. Ready for me to lick them off your skin.” She gasps as I slap her ass hard, then gasps again as I turn her in the direction of all my sinister rooms and push her towards them. “Run.”
Laughter erupts behind me, a chorus of cheers to help her on her way. She stumbles two or three steps, bare feet trying to gain traction on the slippery floor laced with cum and spit, and then sprints. My eyes close, body turning into the fold of other people now heckling her for more speed. She can have some time. Find her way until I decide to follow. Perhaps she’ll get an idea what’s coming then, be ready for me. For now I’m enjoying my colours, letting my vision spin and my mind see filters it hasn’t seen before.
The pull can pull longer, draw me in deeper.
I have all the time I need.
Chapter 13
Ally
I’m rushing, crashing into anything that gets in my way and elbowing people out of my way. Rooms pass me by like waves of colour. Smells, sights, people. So many people. I can’t keep up with myself, can’t find a safe route to run through. The elevator – that was safe. Back upstairs, or down. Which way was it? I don’t know.
My shoulder cracks into a wall, body spinning me away from it instantly so I can run again. That’s all I know now – run. Like that girl did. Play the game – outwit him.
My feet trip, and a man’s arm catches me before I fall head long to the ground. He picks me up and laughs, his hand too tight around my waist as his fingers dig in. What the hell is happening? I’m in the middle of them, no matter how much I tried to keep on the outskirts of it all. And now I’m being hauled with him, more hands joining his to keep me moving forward.
So much noise – so many people.
“Let go,” spits out of me, as I struggle to get my feet back to the ground.
He doesn’t. None of them let me go. All I can feel is them on me, their hands, their bodies, even their breath as they laugh and keep moving. I struggle again, body twisting and turning to get them off me, and my gaze ends up looking backwards, arms reaching for where I’ve just come from. It just keeps getting further and further away, lights seeming to spin above my head.
I shake my head, unsure what the fuck the pills I’ve just swallowed are going to do to me, and keep kicking out. Off. Down. I need to get down and get away, away from all of them and this noise.
Someone moves in my vision. A woman, I think. She’s smiling – laughing with all the others. Black skin. Or black clothes. I don’t know. It’s blurred. Or she is. And my frantic movement is stopping even though I’m still trying to move, to get away. The music – where’s it gone? I can’t hear it anymore, just the base of it. Deep. Heavy. It rides through me like a stampede, as if I can feel it vibrating in my skin and bones suddenly. And the hands don’t feel so harsh now. They feel lighter – easier to tolerate. It’s not right, though. None of this is. This is – my eyes snatch glances at the woman again, watching as her fingers latch onto mine – a mess.
Nothing makes sense.
I’m weak, loose.
