I didn’t give a shit about any of it. It had been a long time since I allowed myself to care about anyone or anything at all. I just wanted to come in her mouth and then leave. Because it made me feel better. And that was all that mattered.

So I stood there while the bitch sucked me off like it was her job, almost forgetting it was an actual person with her mouth around my cock.

When she was done, she got to her feet and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She leaned up on her tiptoes and tried to kiss my mouth, hiking up her skirt as she climbed me like a goddamned tree, as if sucking my dick gave her the fucking right to expect me to put my cock inside her. I had standards.

I shoved her away and removed the condom. I tied it at the end and threw it on the floor at her feet. “Do something with that,” I ordered as I zipped up my pants.

Without another word, or a look in her direction, I left the room and headed back to the dance floor.

I felt light as air, the drugs working through my system. I wondered if I closed my eyes whether I would float to the ceiling. I bet I could fly away and never come back. And that was exactly what I wanted.

To go far, far away.

“Yo, X, have you sold all your shit?” I opened my eyes in annoyance, pissed at whoever was interrupting my temporary moment of insane escapism.

“What the fuck do you want?” I snarled at the scrawny dude who stood before me, practically quaking in his crappy knockoff Dr. Martens. This piece of shit was now firmly on my bad side.

The guy grimaced in apology, and I knew he was wondering what I would do. I felt a perverse sort of pleasure at his wariness. I had a reputation for being temperamental and erratic. I didn’t give a fuck about those pesky things called consequences.

This was my fucking world; I just let them all exist in it.

I should probably note that my drug use came with a hefty dose of narcissism.

“Uh, Marco said you had some . . . you know . . . I just wanted to buy whatever you have,” the guy stammered. I didn’t know him. But he sure as hell knew me. They all did.

I was a hard guy not to know.

Feeling suddenly magnanimous, I pulled out the last of the pills and held them up in front of him. “That’ll be double for you,” I told him pointedly, amused by the flash of anger on his ugly face. What the hell would he do about it? Fight me? Steal my drugs? I didn’t think so. He clearly didn’t have the balls for that.

I smirked as he handed me eighty dollars and took the two pills in my hand. I folded up the money and put it in my pocket. “Nice doin’ business with you,” I said dryly, pushing past him and heading toward the bar.

I was on top of the universe. Nothing could bring me down. I was the king of this fucking castle.

And then I saw her.

The flash of her blond hair in the strobing lights caught my attention immediately. My eyes honed in on the sight of her—a beacon in my own personal darkness.

She was dressed differently than she had been the last time. Gone were the jeans and T-shirt. Tonight it was all about the short skirt and see-through top, a tantalizing glimpse of what lay beneath.

But it didn’t look right. Tonight it was more like she was trying to be something it was so very obvious she wasn’t, though I admit that I appreciated the sight of her long legs underneath the short skirt.

It was like seeing a gazelle among lions. She would be eaten alive here. But as I watched her dance, I could tell there was a part of her that wanted to be devoured.

She danced like she wasn’t entirely comfortable in her body. There was a hesitancy to her movements that seemed at war with the look of abandon on her face.

And it was a beautiful fucking face.

She seemed to be alone. Just like last time. As though she were waiting for me to swoop in and take her away.

“The usual?” the bartender, Eric, asked me. I barely nodded my head, not wanting to give anyone or anything else my attention.

She swayed to the music, as though willing herself to relax and go with it. She seemed to be begging for me to help her let go.

I smiled to myself, knowing I could help her get to that place she wanted to be.

I could be her white rabbit. She just needed to follow me where I wanted to lead her.

Maybe these thoughts weren’t rational. They were bordering on crazy. But they gave me an intoxicating sense of power.

I wanted her.

And I would have her.

I always took what I wanted.

But then she wasn’t alone anymore. A guy came up to her, and she smiled up into his face, and I watched as she laughed at something he said.

My hands clenched into fists, and I tried to suppress the flush of rage that let loose inside me at the sight of her with someone else. My unreasonable sense of ownership made me see red.

The pair headed to the bar and stood about ten feet away from me. The guy was into her. I prized myself on being able to read people like a fucking book, and this dude’s book was a step-by-step instruction manual on how to strike out with a girl who was way out of his league.

He moved in close to her, she took a tiny step back. He put his hand on her arm, she shrugged it off. I grinned at the way she rebuffed his advances each and every time.

The guy ordered them some shots, and I was impressed with the way she slammed them back, though it was obvious she wasn’t a drinker. I could tell by the way she grimaced after she swallowed. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, and I felt a tightening in my groin.

I nursed my own drink as I got my voyeuristic kicks from watching her. The guy, whoever he was, whispered something in her ear and then left her as he headed in the direction of the toilets. Her discomfort kicked up a notch the moment she was alone.

She wore her vulnerability like a neon sign.

I drank some more of my whiskey and turned my attention to the man with a face full of metal and a dead look in his eyes at the end of the bar. I knew the type. I knew what he was thinking. And I knew what he would do if given the chance.

Her friend had yet to come back, so she ordered another drink. The bartender put her beer down on the bar, and she turned away from it to watch the dancers. Full metal jacket took this as an open invitation to play would-be rapist. He subtly dropped a pill I recognized all too well into her open bottle and then slipped back into the crowd.

She didn’t see a thing. Given the size of the crowd in the club, her ignorance was both infuriating and understandable. She was in over her head, completely overwhelmed and unaware. She didn’t have the street smarts to hang out in a place like this.

In one fluid movement, I was beside her. I made sure that my cap still sat low over my face.

My anonymity was vital.

She reached to grab her beer, but I quickly pulled it out of reach. She blinked up at me in bewilderment with eyes that were a clear and vivid brown, her brows furrowed with irritation.

“Give me my drink,” she demanded, trying to sound hard and menacing. She was about as intimidating as a kitten.

Not able to help myself, I reached out and ran a finger down her cheek. She smacked my hand away, and I found myself laughing at her indignation.

“And all that’s best of dark and bright/Meet in her aspect and her eyes,” I quoted, enjoying the confusion on her face. Yeah, I had a thing for Byron. He wrote some dark shit that I appreciated.

The moment would have been uncomfortably cheesy except for the heat in her. I made her hot, I could tell. Yet she hated that I turned her on. She didn’t know me. I was a stranger. I knocked her off-balance. But she felt desire nonetheless.

It was a heady sort of power.

“Give me my goddamned drink,” she enunciated slowly and angrily.