K A Knight - [Her Monsters 01] - Rage

by Knight

  Looks like dress shopping it is. Then Marco. Then Nos. Then I might sleep for a week. It has been a long week and it’s only Wednesday. Killing people really takes a lot out of you. I need to be quick so I speed up and pick the closest shop I can find. Pulling up outside the darkened shop I frown again—oh yeah, it’s the middle of the night.

  Pocketing the money I swiped from the doctor, I step out and lock the car before looking around to make sure no one is around. It’s quiet but it soon won’t be. I stride to the shop like I own it, and yank the handle. It snaps and I open the door, freezing in case an alarm goes off. Thank fuck to whatever gods are up there that it doesn’t, unless it’s a silent one. Rushing inside, I scan the row of clothes before I find a long red number. I grab my size, get undressed, and shimmy into it. Satisfied it fits, I grab my balled up dress and shove it in the trash can under the cash register. It’s only a small shop, obviously independently owned, and it makes me feel a tad bad about breaking in.

  Oh well. Leaving the wad of cash that will cover the dress and more, I saunter out and quickly slide into my stolen BMW. I lean towards the console in the middle and search for the club on the sat nav. It finds it easily and I press go before reversing into the street and speeding away from the scene of my crime.

  I guess I should feel guilty, but I don’t. I have too much to worry about without the toll on my soul for stealing, plus I think that ship has long since sailed with my killings. I am morally iffy, that’s for fucking sure, but I hope I get points for killing bad guys.

  As I drive down the road The Clubhouse is on, I search for somewhere to park. When I don’t spot any, I pull up at the side of the road, leave the keys inside, and saunter away. Serves the asshole right, he’s probably dead about now anyway, but knowing he will be fined for illegal parking makes me feel good, petty, but good.

  The Clubhouse is nothing like I expected. From the name, I kept imagining a biker bar type of deal, but I should have figured, knowing Marco, it would have been the complete opposite. In neon lights, above a large building, the sign proudly declares ‘The Clubhouse.’

  A queue spreads around the block, where chattering and half-drunk club goers are waiting to get into what looks like an exclusive club. Two bouncers frame the blood-red doors, watching everything with hawk-like eyes.

  My shoulders back and my head held high, I strut up to the bouncers and arch my eyebrow as they hold their arms out to block the door.

  The big guy on the left grins at me while the one on the right narrows his eyes, jerking his head to the queue.

  “Don’t think so pumpkin, I’m here to see Marco and we all know he doesn’t like being kept waiting.” I tap my foot impatiently and stare him down.

  Eventually he nods, and after both step back, I open the door and slip inside, blowing out a relieved breath that I didn’t have to kill them or something to get inside.

  “Coat?” comes a dull, female voice. I turn my head and spot the bored-looking, middle-aged woman in a red vest manning a coat booth.

  Smirking, I gesture at my floor-length, deeply cut red dress. “Honey, with a dress like this you don’t cover it up with a coat.” I wink and walk away.

  The hallway opens up at the end and under my feet I feel the music pulsing. My heart races in time to it and I lick my lips as I step out and whistle at the club before me. The place is huge.

  Chandeliers, with dancing women, hang low from the ceiling over the wooden dance floor where hundreds of party goers writhe to the music. Two bars, both busy, run on either side of the club with at least a five person line waiting to be served.

  The walls are done in black with wood accents, and neon red lights are everywhere. It should look cheap but for some reason it doesn’t. I don’t spot a VIP area anywhere, but to the left and right are two curved staircases leading up to a floating platform above the dance floor. Guessing that’s where it must be, seems right that the rich bastards would be lording over the regular folks. A woman in a tiny black dress and ridiculously high heels totters past with a tray on her arm.

  I follow her progress and squint at the booths I didn’t see before. Lining the wall on each side of me, almost removed from the rest of the club, are deep red and wooden booths, which are filled with women in scantily clad dresses and men in suits. It looks like a mafia meeting. It probably is.

  Stepping forward so I’m not just standing there gawking, I make my way to the dance floor. It’ll look strange if I try and head straight upstairs, plus the music is pulling me to dance.

  Slipping through the bodies, I wind my way into their mass. The music calls to me until my head is thrown back and I’m losing myself in the rhythm.

  “I told you to go home,” comes Griffin’s annoyed voice right next to my ear.

  Grinning, I keep dancing as his hands drop to my hips and tighten, stopping my movements. “Dawn,” he growls, the sound sending shivers down my body as he whispers in my ear.

  “Yeah, I don’t do well with orders,” I joke, leaning back into him, his body to calling mine.

  “I’m not joking Dawn, go home,” he grits out, his voice silky and sending dirty thoughts spiraling through me. His body, against mine with the music in the background, is making me almost pant as I try to stop myself from pushing back against him. I have to remind myself he’s a stranger, and an arrogant one at that.

  “Neither am I.” Turning in his hold, I arch my brow as I lean up and wrap my arms around his neck. His eyes flare before they narrow on me.

  “This is none of your business, go home before you get hurt,” he demands, as his arms tighten and his eyes flash dangerously. You can feel the power running through his body, one he holds in check so tightly.

  “Too late,” I whisper, with a disgusted twist of my lips.

  He frowns, and his eyes flash faster as his hand tighten again, bruisingly so. “What do you mean?”

  I laugh, starting to move to the music so he has no choice but to move with me. “You really think I would be hunting these bastards for fun?” He scowls hard, his eyebrows slanting, and I grin sardonically. “They killed me, drugged me, and threw me in a cell. So, sorry Griffin Sweetheart, not even you can stop me.”

  I feel the anger racing through his body, and his jaw grinds as he stares at me before he pushes words out through gritted teeth. “You should let this go, some very powerful people want these men and this crime circle dead, and you getting in the way will only draw attention to yourself. Trust me, you don’t want to draw their attention.”

  Rolling my eyes at his threat, I carry on dancing. “That man killed me, the one upstairs imprisoned me and tortured countless women, and then sold them. So no, I won’t be letting this go.”

  He growls, like actually growls. His eyes turn darker, with what looks like smoke or mist twirling faster and faster in their depths. “Dawn,” he warns again, but I just turn my back on him and carry on dancing.

  I feel him gearing up for an argument when I spot Marco. Zoning Griffin out as he lectures me on safety and bullshit, I watch the bastard who threw me into the cells as he walks through the club like he owns it. To be fair, he does, but he acts like a god. I can’t wait to make him fall like one.

  He winds through the crowd, accepting handshakes and kisses on cheeks as he smiles and flirts, imposing in his smart suit. To think I actually thought this bastard was attractive but now, looking closer, I can see the evil surrounding him. Maybe I didn’t want to see it before, or maybe I wasn’t paying attention, but it follows him around like a shadow.

  I watch his progress as he stops at a booth where three other suited men are sitting and slides in, with a drink being placed in front of him immediately as he leans back and crosses his leg over his other knee, his arm placed along the back of the booth as his eyes start to scan the club.

  Turning, just in case he spots me, I cover Griffin’s still moving mouth with my hand. “Shut up, will you? Now, listen and listen good. You do not know me, you do not get to tell me shit. If I wante
d to start an orgy right here, you couldn’t say a fucking thing, get that through your stupidly thick skull. You can either help, or you can fuck off.” His eyes widen in shock, no doubt nobody has ever talked back to him before. I watch in fascination as the shock soon burns away to desire. “Now, I’m going to the toilet and you can get the fuck over it.” Leaning closer, I rest my lips on my hand separating our mouths. “Then you can tell me why you are stalking me, what this mate crap means, and everything else.” Kissing my own hand I pull away and saunter through the club, with absolutely zero intentions of going to the toilet.

  It’s time Griffin saw the reason why I don’t need his protection, or condescension. He might be beautiful, but he’s a fucking asshole. Why does that make me want him more? Maybe because he isn’t delicate around me, nor does he censor his mouth or even give a shit. I’ve been flattered all my life, told my beauty opens doors—hell, it even led me to Tim. So the fact it doesn’t seem to bother him, never mind be a factor in how he treats me, is addictive. Doesn’t mean I won’t kick his fucking ass if he carries on being a wanker though.

  Women, we are complicated creatures, and it seems turning into a monster or a skinwalker, as Griffin called me, has only upped my lack of filter and rational thinking. At this point, I’m mainly instincts and wants.

  Shrugging away the thoughts for another time, I add an extra sway to my hips as I head across the dance floor, aiming for Marco. I can still feel Griffin’s eyes burning into my skin and it makes me want to turn around and put on a show, to push him and see how he would react.

  I watch, captivated, as Dawn wanders away through the crowd. My eyes track her easily, since she stands out here, even among the masses. I can almost still feel her in my arms, and see her eyes light up as she challenged me.

  She is definitely not what I was expecting, and I can’t seem to help myself around her. I need to push her, annoy her, see that spark in her eye and feel the pain of her sharp tongue. Even now, when I should be working, all I can think about is my mate.

  I watch her progress through the crowd, with my eyes dropping to the hypnotic sway of her ass in that dress. I know she’s doing it on purpose, but I also know some of it is just her innate sexuality. It oozes from her like her powers, she is untrained and reckless, but oh so fucking powerful.

  With a frown, I watch her turn and begin swearing as I push through the crowd as she makes her way towards the man I spotted getting into the car outside the warehouse.

  For fuck’s sake, this woman is going to be the death of me and maybe all the fucking sheep in here if he touches her.

  Marco doesn’t notice me coming, since his eyes are watching a fight breaking out over on the other side of the room. It isn’t until I’m right before him that his eyes swing my way. Bending over, I place my boobs in his face, hoping it will stop him from looking too intently at me and noticing who I am.

  He raises his eyebrow and sips his drinks, his eyes dancing as they rove my body before meeting mine. I hold my breath, waiting for him to alert his guards, but I see no recognition in his eyes. Maybe he drugs girls all the time, but I’m a tiny bit disappointed even if it makes my job easier.

  “Can I help you, sweet thing?” he asks, watching me with a knowing look.

  “I don’t know, can you?” I flirt. He grins and I know I need to catch his attention now or he will get distracted.

  Pushing his ankle off his knee with my heel, I lift my leg and straddle his lap. Both of his eyebrows raise and he smirks. I lean forward, ignoring the sick feeling his hands cause when they land on my thighs, and I brush my lips across his cheek to his ear.

  “Why don’t you see if you can help me?” I purr, licking his lobe before biting it. He groans huskily and I back away, leaving his lap as I smile seductively, crooking my finger for him to follow me before I turn and, swaying my hips, wander away from the table confidently. My shoulders loosen when I hear him trailing after me.

  Men.

  Leading him down the hallway behind the dance floor, which I’m guessing goes to the toilets, I spot the fire exit at the end of the darkened corridor—perfect. Unfortunately Marco, the handsy bastard, decides he can’t wait and pushes me up against the wall roughly, slams his hands next to my head, and kisses me.

  Crinkling my nose in disgust, I roll my eyes and wrap my arms around his neck, fake moaning into his mouth as he rubs up against me. Turning him while he’s distracted man-handling my breasts, I start backing us down the corridor. When he goes to lift his head I grab both cheeks and kiss him hard until he’s grunting and moaning.

  When we reach the door, I kick it open and pull back. His eyes are unfocused and I grin as I press both hands to his chest and push so he flies out and hits the alley wall behind the club. I step out, kick the door shut behind me, and look around. Bins line the bottom of the alley, the other end leads to the street, and the lights don’t penetrate down here.

  He frowns, eyeing the surroundings before shrugging and leaning back with a smirk. “What, you don’t like an audience? I wouldn’t have guessed from your little display in there.” He runs his hand down his suit and flicks open the button on his slacks.

  Rolling my eyes again I hold up my hand. “Calm down Marco, you can keep your little friend in your pants. I’m afraid the only thing getting wet tonight will be your eyes. I’m betting you’re a crier.”

  He reaches for his pocket, maybe for his phone or a weapon, but I dart closer and grab both hands, pinning them to the wall next to him like he did to me as I line up our faces, and grin at him. Letting him see the hate and rage in my eyes.

  “Remember me yet, or should I let you drug me first?” His eyes widen in recognition.

  “You,” he sneers.

  “Me. The bitch who just killed and took down your whole fucking little warehouse,” I taunt.

  He narrows his eyes. “Liar,” he hisses.

  “Oh really? How else do you think I got out? Or how did I release all the ‘freaks’ from your basement.”

  “You fucking bitch—”

  I backhand him quickly.

  “Yes, yes, yes, I’m a bitch. Now, what I want to know is whom you are selling the girls to, both freaks and normals. I also want to know whom you answer to.”

  He laughs, actually laughs. “Why the fuck would I tell you that?”

  Grinning, I lick up his neck to his ear. “Because you smell like prey.”

  I hear his heart rate speeding up as I pull away, and he puts on a brave face like I can’t hear the fear pumping through his blood. “Get the fuck away from me before I decide to deal with you once and for all,” he orders.

  I laugh, throwing my head back. “It’s cute how you think you get to order me around.”

  I hear the flapping of wings and Marco’s eyes dart about, but when they don’t widen in alarm I take it to mean Griffin is hidden somewhere. Well then, maybe I can show him and Marco that you don’t fuck with me. Two birds, one death...that’s the saying, right?

  “Get the fuck away from me and I might let you live,” he threatens, pushing away from the wall.

  “How boring. I was hoping this would be more fun. Now, tell me who you’re selling them to,” I demand, leaning back against the door with a bored look on my face.

  “Go fuck yourself,” he fires back, standing and straightening his suit before narrowing his eyes on me. It’s easy to see why he’s so high up in the organization, even now he’s unruffled.

  “No thanks, I have someone else to do that with later. Last chance, who were you selling them to?” I inquire slowly, straightening from my position against the door, almost buzzing with the hope that he won’t answer.

  “Fuck. Off,” he replies, grabbing at the gun or phone again.

  I grin. “I was hoping you would say that,” I purr before jumping at him.

  Grabbing the arm going for his pocket I twist, and when I hear a crack and he screams, I yank it behind his back and hold it there with my face pushed against his. Sweat beads at his f
orehead as he lets out a colourful rant at me.

  “Finished?” I ask calmly and he nods, his words eventually cutting off as his eyes meet mine, finally understanding I’m serious.

  “You…you’re one of them,” he gasps, rising higher on his tiptoes to try and alleviate the pain in his arm.

  “One of whom?” I ask innocently, fluttering my lashes, wanting to hear him say it.

  “Freak,” he spits, making me grin.

  “Hell yes I am, but the last guy who pissed me off ended up with a ripped out neck, bleeding out on his hotel room floor as I fucked a forest god. So, if I were you, I would get smart real quick,” I purr.

  He swallows hard, finally nodding, obviously coming to the same conclusion I have. His bodyguards think he’s busy fucking, and that gives us an hour, maybe more, depending on how long he usually lasts, but I’m betting he’s a pump and dump sort of guy. Nobody knows where he is and he’s trapped out here with a hurt arm, and what he calls two ‘freaks’—not that he knows Griffin is there.

  “I don’t know the buyers’ names, they came to us,” he starts and I narrow my eyes. He gasps, freezes, and I blink hard. “Your eyes—”

  “What about them?” I grit out.

  “They are black, just black.”

  Huh, that’s new. Although I’ve never really looked at myself when I use my new powers, so maybe it’s not. Something else to think about later on.

  “Marco,” I warn.

  “Sorry, sorry.” He gulps, his gaze flickering away before going back to my eyes like he can’t stand not to look. “They really did, they must have found out that I was dealing women right under Victor’s—shit.” He snaps his mouth shut and I arch my eyebrow.