Page 9 of Wretched Soul
When she gives me a look, I shrug. “Here’s to nothing,” I say, tipping my glass to hers.
Kaitlyn was not wrong. It’s sweet, bitter and strong enough to make my tongue tingle. The rest of my body comes to life moments later. Suddenly, I don’t care about finding someone to kiss away the invisible fingerprints Connor left on my tainted skin. I’d be happy enough to dance the night away, and once we’ve set down our empty glasses, I drag Kaitlyn onto the dance floor.
We dance, and we sway. We rock our hips, and we twirl, and twirl. And as I move and grind to the music, a soft sheen of sweat coats my skin. I lift my arms in the air and close my eyes as my body is carried off by the sound waves crashing into me.
It takes a while before I realize Kaitlyn has been carried off by something a little more carnal. She’s grinding against a tall, muscular man with blond hair and roaming hands. I stay close, watching her back until she glances over the guy’s shoulder and beams a smile at me. With a waft of her hand, she shoos me away. She’s good. And I need another drink.
I wish I’d asked the server for the name of the cocktail because it’s a taste I could get addicted to. I head for the least busy section of the closest bar, and rest my arms against it. A barman makes eye contact and gives me a nod to let me know he has me in his sights.
While he deals with his current customer, I tug at my dress, peeling the fabric away from my damp skin to create some airflow. I check out my reflection in the mirrored wall of the bar. I’d left my hair down and my auburn curls are holding up well despite the sweat gathering at the nape of my neck.
“Fucking amazing, isn’t it?” a fellow customer says, thumping his shoulder into me as he takes up a position to my right.
It takes only a quick glance to confirm that the guy is high on something more than cocktails. “Yeah,” I reply, shifting my body slightly to give him my back.
“This drink’s on me,” says another guy who’s appeared on my left. He holds up his hand to the barman and swipes a finger through the air, ordering him over. The barman doesn’t look impressed, and his gaze comes back to me, checking I’m good before continuing with the drink he’s pouring. I’m not too impressed by the guy who’s trying to make a move on me. He’s thin and wiry with gaunt eyes. I’d almost prefer Connor touching me.
“We need to do shots,” says the other man on my right, who’s still loitering.
“Richie, you’re a fucking genius,” replies the one on my left.
Ah, so this is a two-pronged attack. My purse remains in front of me, and I put a hand over it in case it’s not my body they’re after.
“Are you up for a challenge?” Richie says to me.
“Of course, she is,” his creepier friend replies.
Before I can respond, the barman appears. He stands directly in front of me. “What can I get you?”
“Do you know what the cocktail was that you’re giving out on the house?” I ask, ignoring mutterings about tequila shots on my right and left.
The barman shakes his head. “Sorry, I don’t know anything about giving away cocktails. Have you checked the menu?” he asks, tipping his head to the bound list resting on the bar.
I don’t want to make the barman wait for me to read through the list, so I go with something simple. “I’ll just have a Cointreau on the rocks, thanks.”
“Make that three!” Richie says, waving a credit card in the air. “And I’m paying.”
“Yeah, count me in,” his friend says. “We don’t mind being led astray by a beautiful woman.”
The barman doesn’t take his eyes off me as he waits for my decision. Things will just get messy if I try to refuse, and I don’t want to walk away. I want a drink. I shrug, hoping I won’t regret accepting Richie’s offer.
His friend’s hand slips around my waist as we wait for the drinks to be poured. “I’m Jason. What’s your name, beautiful?” he murmurs in my ear.
“Hey, man,” Richie barks as his hand wraps around me too. “I saw her first.”
I bring out both my arms, elbows pointed as I push against two sets of ribs. Richie and Jason don’t take the hint, but I keep my arms where they are to protect my space. If one of them moves a hand lower, they’re going to get more than a sharp jab in the ribs.
The barman takes the payment from Richie and slides the drinks in front of us. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” he asks me pointedly.
“I think I can manage,” I say, arching an eyebrow to let him know the attention isn’t welcome, but I don’t need an intervention just yet.
He nods, but rather than moving on to waiting customers, he picks up a glass and begins polishing it.
“Let’s down these suckers in one,” says Jason, pushing my drink closer. “You first.”
It’s actually not a bad idea. If I down the drink, I can easily lose these guys on the dance floor. I go to take the glass when Richie’s arm disappears from around my waist. Jason’s arm vanishes too. They each release a mutter of surprise and Richie goes to say something, but swallows back the words that don’treach his lips. As I glance at his paling features, I hear Jason speak.
“Oh, shit,” he gasps. “S-Sorry, man.”
