Page 4 of My Captive's Heart
“I need liquid courage before I step foot inside the haunted house.”
“Not the words you expect to hear from aghostnurse.”
“Shut up!”
Our laugh gets lost in the chilly night air as we hail a cab to the club, which happens to be within walking distance of the haunted house. I could use a drink or two to ease my nerves. Matt better bring his A game tonight.
Half an hour later, we enter the club after giving our IDs. It’s completely packed inside with the music pulsing in the open expanse of the room. I do stand out with my non-Halloween costume. It’s not just to fit in my role as an innocent girl, but to make it easier for Matt to chase me and tell me apart from the crowd.
Rita tugs me straight toward the bar. We have to literally kick and shove through the mass of writhing bodies on the dance floor to make it without anyone groping us. Not an easy feat, dare I say.
“Your poison, sexy ladies?” asks the bartender.
“Tequila!” we shout together.
He smirks and turns around with a nod. His biceps bulge as he pours our shots. I eye Rita, who is licking her lips while gazing at his profile. I know who she’ll be going home with tonight, considering the attraction is mutual from the way he made his way to us.
“Here you go.” He slides the glasses to us while keeping his gaze locked with my friend’s.
With a sultry smile, Rita leans on the bar. “Care tosharea shot with me?”
His lips tipping up on the side, he grabs the lemon slice and holds it between his teeth. Arching a brow at her, he waits.
I watch, amused, as Rita downs the shot and meets the bartender halfway to lock her red-painted lips with his. The lemon long forgotten, their kiss escalates as he grabs the back of her neck and dominates her mouth.
Ignoring them, I gulp my shot. The tequila burns its way down my throat, warming me up from the inside. I don’t want to be wasted, so I skip another shot. Pulling out my phone, I check the time. I still have another half an hour before I have to meet Matt.
“Let’s dance!” Rita shouts in my ear.
Smiling, I tug her to the center of the dance floor. It’s not long before we lose ourselves to the loud bass of the music thudding through the speakers.
Closing my eyes, I sway and roll my hips, running my hands up my sides. The alcohol does its magic as it courses through my system, building my anticipation for the rest of the night.
Someone bumps into me.
I snap my eyes open, sucking in a sharp breath when I stare at a man in a matte black mask standing still as a statue a few feet away from me. I can’t see his eyes, but I know he’s looking right at me. He towers over everyone as they dance around him while he remains unmoving.
Menacing.
Predatory.
Daunting.
As though it’s just him and me.
When the strobe lights flash down on him right as the couple before him parts, I get a glimpse of his attire. It causes me to stumble and my jaw to drop.
A loose black hoodie and matching cargo pants.
Matt.
I know it’s him because we agreed to him wearing something discreet in all black, including his mask. No one is dressed like him either, in the sweaty and drunk crowd.
Did he follow me here? Is he improvising?
Fuck. I didn’t think he had it in him to be so intimidating and chilling.
My pulse pounds in tune to the beat of the song “Animals” by Maroon 5. I almost smile at Matt before falling back into my role of us being strangers.
