Stain (Stain #1)(39)
Mallory pulls away from me to leap into his waiting arms with a squeal. “I wanted to pick out the perfect outfit! What do you think?” Stepping away, she does a turn.
“Fierceness, bitch! Love the heels!”
He glances my way with a tight, fake smile. “You’re here, too!”
Pursing my lips, I say, “Yup.”
“I’ve got candy!” That’s the end of our conversation as he focuses his attention back on Mallory pulling the string of a small, black pouch from around his left wrist. Tugging it open, he holds it up to Mallory’s excited face. “It’s the purest shit you’ll ever taste.”
“Molly?”
“Better, SKY. Cleaner roll.”
A surge of unease trickles in my veins as I watch my best friend pop a little pink pill. The entire interaction between them is so casual that it casts a shade of surrealism to the scene. “I need a chaser.”
“Snow?”
Mallory giggles, nodding her head. “Oh yeah.”
I will myself to speak, although I’m sure my concerns will be ignored. “Mallory…” The same caution that I constantly live by permeates my voice. “Let’s slow down for a bit and dance, okay?”
She turns to me with a smile, “We’ll dance. I just need to head to the bathroom for like a second. Just wait for me up there.” She points to the steel scaffold just above us. “I’ll come get you as soon as I get back.” Henri pulls her away before I can say anything and she follows giddily behind him without a second glance back.
“Fuck.”
I don’t swear much but I think I’m justified in my current situation. In this instant, surrounded by an orgy of intoxicated people, with the earthquake of the pounding bass line vibrating through my chest and the multihued laser lights picking me out from the crowd, I feel completely and utterly alone and lonely. Like a lost little child, I squeeze my way through the throng in hopes of finding the parent that forgot I was there. But Mallory isn’t my parent. She’s a friend who’s found something better to occupy her time. I should be angry and maybe a part of me is, but it doesn’t rival the mire of self-pity I find myself sinking into. My walk up the steel steps is blurred by hot, stinging tears I refuse to let fall. It isn’t as crowded up here, but all the same, I find the corner with the least amount of people and huddle close to one of the building’s support beams, wishing and hoping I can disappear inside its frosty, concrete interior. Feeling an increasing sense of detachment from it all, I peer down at the crowd for an impossible stretch of eternity wondering if it’s will alone keeping me from hurtling myself over or the metal bar I’m leaning into. There’s no answer. But there’s suddenly someone’s weight against me. Pressing into me. My heart jumps, and two sharp gasps crackle from my throat as my eyes widen in disbelief. Paralyzed by terror, I can only stand there at the feel of the thickness prodding against my backside.
“God, baby, your ass feels so good.” My ears ring as rancid, alcohol-drenched breath steams hot along the shell of my ear. “Bet it’d feel even better with my dick in between your cheeks.” He extends both his arms on either side of my body, his hands gripping the iron railing to completely cage me in. I slowly look up and stare straight ahead, my body in a trancelike state. “I’m going to f*ck you so hard, you’re going to beg me for more.” He moves his hips, grinds his erection against my butt cheeks. Still, I don’t move. “You going to scream for me, baby?”
Everything in me screams to get away. To escape. “No.” That’s all that comes out. A terrible, pitiful sound escapes from the fissures of a body that’s already been broken. Left exposed, the demons drag Tim’s presence into the moment, and his shadow, his weight, and his body replace the one behind me.
“My little flower.”
His words. Those revolting three little words play on a loop inside my head like a broken music box. My nightmare comes to life. It breathes down my neck. It touches me with oil-slicked hands. It bleeds violently into my reality, rendering me utterly powerless.
Please…no.
I don’t know how but someone hears my internal plea and in the seconds it takes for me to inhale a shuddering breath, the body of my assailant is gone.
When I turn, it’s to see my rescuer holding my assailant by the front of his shirt, his back bowed dangerously and half hanging over the iron railing. There’s the barrel of a gun firmly fixed against the side of the stranger’s head.
“You good?”
The raspy growl of the voice edged with a pitch of gruffness draws my eyes to the person speaking to me. In that precise moment, a strobe light focuses on him, casting immaculate features in haunting blue laser light, giving him this unworldly appearance. He’s a familiar face in a sea of strangers. The furthest thing from a friend, and yet, the overpowering rush of elation that spirals through me at the sight of his brooding face nearly knocks me to my knees.
Maddox.
An incredibly large, incomprehensible part of me wants to jump into his arms, hide my face against the sturdiness of his chest, and thank him for what he just did. But the very thought of being so close to a guy when I was just assaulted by one keeps me rooted while a flood of trepidation swishes like ice water through my veins. It’s a paradox, the inconsistency of emotions raging a war inside me.