Page 2 of Bewitched By the Mountain Man
In corners, I spot things that make heat crawl up my neck. Couples entwined in alcoves, barely visible behind sheercurtains. A woman leading a man by a leash. Groups of people disappearing through doorways into what I can only imagine lies beyond.
"Awesome, right?" Madison yells over the music, her own mask, red and decorated with rubies, catching the light.
I nod, unable to form words. This isn't like any club I've been to. This is something else entirely. Something forbidden and thrilling and terrifying all at once.
We push through the crowd toward the bar, and I'm hyperaware of eyes on me. The dress clings to my body, and the mask gives me a strange confidence I haven't felt in forever. Behind this disguise, I'm not Tessa, the recently dumped.
I'm no one.
I'm anyone.
Madison orders a drink that’s pink and smoking, which seems appropriate for this place. We find a spot against the wall where we can watch the dance floor. Bodies move together in ways that would get them arrested in normal clubs.
“I’m going to dance,” Madison says, already moving toward some six-foot-something guy in a horned mask. “Try not to look too surprised when I disappear into one of those rooms with him. You okay?”
"Yeah, I'm just going to…"
But she's already gone, absorbed into the writhing mass of masked dancers. I clutch my drink, suddenly aware of how alone I am. I scan the crowd, trying to keep my eye on her red mask, but everyone looks the same.
"First time?"
I turn to find a man in a black mask leaning against the wall beside me. He's tall, lean, dressed in an expensive-looking suit.
"That obvious?" I manage.
"You've got that deer-in-headlights thing happening." He leans in too close, and I catch the smell of cologne and whiskey. "Let me show you around."
His hand lands on my waist. "No thanks, I'm good."
"You sure? Because you look like you could use someone to show you the ropes." His fingers tighten. "Literally."
I'm about to shove him away when another hand, much larger, closes around my wrist.
"She's with me."
The voice is deep, commanding, and it lands somewhere deep in my chest. The man beside me immediately steps back, hands raised.
"Sorry man, I didn't know."
But my apparent savior is already pulling me away, cutting through the crowd with an ease that suggests he does this often. I stumble after him, my heels catching on the floor. When I finally look up at him, the breath lodges in my throat.
He's massive. At least six-four, built like a brick wall, with broad shoulders that strain against a black shirt. Dark hair falls messily over his forehead, but it's his eyes that stop me. Even through the slits in his mask, I can see them. Icy blue… and fixed on me.
"Thank you," I call over the music. "For the save."
He doesn't respond, just keeps moving. A drunk couple stumbling toward one of those mysterious doorways crashes into us, and suddenly his hand is in mine, completely engulfing my smaller fingers.
"Come with me," he commands.
Common sense screams at me to pull away, to find Madison, and to get the hell out of this insane club. But another part of me is louder. A reckless part that’s tired of playing it safe.
“I should find my friend,” I say.
“Not now,” he says, eyes scanning the crowd as a glass shatters nearby. “It’s about to get ugly, and I’m not letting you get caught in it.”
We navigate through a corridor I didn't notice before, past those sheer curtains where I definitely don't look at what's happening behind them. He pushes open a heavy door, and we slip inside.
The room is intimate and dark. Candles flicker on surfaces, casting dancing shadows across walls. There's a bed… of course there's a bed, massive and covered in black silk. But it's what's on the walls that makes my heart race.
