Did that mean Marcus felt the dream as well? Did he have the same sorts of dreams? She didn't know, and she wasn't willing to drive outside of Somerset to ask Marcus himself.
After another few moments where she managed to get a grip on her emotions, Bridgette finally stood and started getting ready for work. She was frustrated as she began to dive into her closet because due to the fact that she couldn't go out into the field anymore, she had to dress somewhat formally. She managed to find a somewhat nice outfit - black slacks with a pink and white collared shirt – and after throwing on some mascara and pulling her hair into a bun, she ate a rushed breakfast, brushed her teeth and left the safety of her home.
The dream continued to haunt her all throughout the day at work until she finally told Kendall about it. She didn't exactly go into detail, but she made sure that she stressed the fact of just how real it seemed, that in her dream, she was conscious and could feel everything, even now…
"We need to go out tonight, Kendall," she mumbled, about to run her fingers through her hair but remembered her hair was pulled into a bun. Kendall pulled an enigmatic face as she bit into her tuna salad sandwich that did not go unseen by Bridgette whatsoever. "What? We were going to go out tomorrow. Why not push it up a night early?"
"Why do you want to go out tonight?" Kendall asked, perking her brows as she locked eyes with her friend.
"I just don't want to think about Marcus anymore. I just don't want to…" Bridgette let her voice trail off and her eyes drop to her untouched cup of coffee. She didn't even drink coffee and she had no idea why she thought it was a good idea to pour some if it would just end up cold.
Kendall tilted her head slightly to the side. "Okay," she finally agreed. "I think Nocturnal just opened. It's supposed to be this new trendy nightclub. I'm sure we could use our status as NDS agents to cut through the line and maybe even get in free, but Bridge, I'm warning you, this whole plan of not thinking about Marcus is not going to work. You're bonded with him. You're connected to him. Nothing – no nightclub or dancing - is going to change that."
"I know," Bridgette murmured, nodding. "But even forgetting temporarily is enough for me."
22
When Bridgette got home that evening, she ate a light dinner of salad and water before heading into her bathroom to take a long shower. She didn't want to eat too much given the fact that she was intending to dance for the majority of the night, and if she felt bloated or full, she might not enjoy herself as much otherwise.
In the shower, she made sure she thought long and hard about everything that had happened to her over the past couple of days. Dr. Gupta warned her that after physically consummating the bond between her and Marcus, they would be even more strongly connected than they already. This, in turn, meant that he could get into her head, he could feel things that she was feeling. Did it work in the reverse? She wasn't exactly sure, but she decided to try and find out. As the warm water tumbled out of the showerhead and roll down her skin, Bridgette closed her eyes and focused on Marcus. But after a moment of trying, there was no result. Bridgette couldn’t see into his mind to know what he was thinking or feeling. Maybe it only worked one way, or maybe it only worked for males or maybe it only worked because he was a werewolf and she was a human. There were too many possibilities and too complicated to think about right now, especially given the fact that she was currently in the shower.
The moment Bridgette turned off her water, the doorbell rang. Her lips perked up, and she quickly wrapped a towel around her body as she all but dashed to her front door. Instead of immediately opening it, however, she made sure that she looked through the peephole to ensure that it was her friend and not… someone else.
When she saw that it was Kendall, she smiled with excitement and opened the door before warmly ushering her friend in. Kendall was dressed impeccably in a purple, long-sleeve t-shirt dress that draped over her body. It was somewhat loose on top (hence the t-shirt dress mentality), but the skirt attached to the dress was short and tight. She was wearing black pumps, and her short, brown hair was straight with a slight edge to it. Her makeup was much like her hair, edgy but fashionable, as it highlighted her eyes. She had three golden bracelets on her left wrist and a black clutch that matched her shoes. Girls’ nights were the only times Kendall allowed herself to dress to flatter her body, to attain the confidence she should already have.
"Okay," Kendall said, eyeing her friend's less-than-couture outfit. "I haven't checked up on Nocturnal's dress code policy or anything, but I think a towel is out of the question."
Bridgette rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. "Context clues, Kendall," she said as she turned and headed into her room with Kendall in tow. "I just got out of the shower."
"Ooh!" Kendall exclaimed. "Okay then. You dry off. I'll pick out your outfit."
"I'm not exactly sure –" Bridgette said, about to protest, but Kendall waved her friend's worries away.
"Hey," she began, locking eyes with her friend. "You asked me to come over. You demanded we go to a nightclub. It’s only fair that I get to pick your outfit. Don’t you just trust me? You wanted to forget about Mister Marcus Sterling, right? Let me make you look even more irresistible than you already are, and I guarantee you will forget him but guys won't forget you."
Bridgette laughed at the notion but rolled her eyes as she headed back into the bathroom. It took twenty minutes before she dried off though her body was still encompassed in a towel. Before she could get two steps out of the bathroom door, Kendall thrust the clothes she wanted Bridgette to wear for the evening and ushered her back into the bathroom. She looked down at the material after the door shut behind her, her lips twisting into a frown. Now where had this particular dress come from? She didn't remember buying it…
"Hurry up!" Kendall called from outside the door.
It only took a few moments before Bridgette stepped back out, her face unsure. However, Kendall squealed in delight and started talking about makeup, hairstyles, and accessories; things that Bridgette didn't really pay any particular attention to. Ignoring Kendall, she caught a glimpse of herself in her room's full-length mirror. Her hair was still somewhat damp, but not wet enough to affect the dress material in a negative way. The dress itself was a deep cranberry color, maybe even wine. It was an off-the-shoulder dress, and the silky material clung to her shape. It was double-strapped, with thick straps fell off her shoulders and thin spaghetti straps that curved around her shoulders, and the length of the dress came to about mid-thigh. The skirt of the dress wasn't as tight as Kendall's, but it still revealed her curves. Bridgette was glad Kendall chose her outfit tonight. Dressed like this, she might actually have a good time and forget about a certain someone. Admiring herself some more, she was interrupted by Kendall’s sudden focus on her.
Admiring herself some more, she was interrupted by Kendall’s sudden focus on her. “And now, onto the fun part,” she said with a glint in her eyes.
An hour later, makeup was added to Bridgette's look. Now that her hair had dried, Kendall tousled it so half of it was up while the other half was down. A choker hung around Bridgette's neck, and on her feet were gold gladiator sandals.
"Wow," Kendall murmured as she took a step back in order to admire her work. "Bridge, you look…" She let her voice trail off and Bridgette felt herself blush.
"Oh, be quiet," she said, but couldn't hide her smile if she tried. "Come on. Let's go have the night of our lives."
Nocturnal was a small, one-story building that blended in with its urban surroundings. Had it not been for the neon red sign stationed on the roof, many people would have passed it over as another abandoned building. Music could be heard from the sidewalk, and if anyone leaned against the dark bricks, they would surely feel the vibration of the music. There was a long line that wrapped around the block – opening nights were always crowded at the club scene in Somerset – and two bouncers on either side of the entrance doors, all shaved heads and muscle.
As
Kendall had brainstormed, the host – a scrawny man with a clipboard dressed in an expensive suit - allowed the two women access into the nightclub without having to wait in line or even pay. The lights were dim unless a particular song called for a strobe light - the music was loud, and the vicinity itself was crowded. Bridgette could already feel herself start to sweat and she had just gotten her hand stamp – a crescent moon on the inside of her right wrist. Her nose twitched at the stale smell of smoke and cheap alcohol. When her eyes landed on the dance floor, however, her heart sped up. It was small and compact, already filled with a sea of people, but she was ready to jump in herself. She needed this.
Thankfully, it didn’t take them long before they headed to the dance floor, completely losing themselves in the music. This would free her mind. This would be the release she had been craving since leaving – escaping – from Marcus. Now she could forget, even temporarily, all the conflicting feelings associated with the wolf.
Marcus could tell she was getting ready for something formal due to how nervous yet excited she was. He could also feel something else, a feminine presence with Bridgette as well. What was she doing? What was she getting ready for? He cocked his head to the side, leaning deeper into the cushy chair as he proceeded to think more on the matter. What if… what if she was going on a date with someone?
The thought took Marcus by surprise and he felt himself growl at the mere thought that she was seeing someone else when she already belonged to him. He tilted his head up and smelled the air, hoping to catch the scent of vanilla. He knew that since they had partaken in the act of making love – having sex – he could pick her scent out with the mere thought of her, despite her distance. Instantly, his senses were filled with solely her, but she seemed to be surrounded by alcohol, cigarette smoke, and something else… He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on where she could possibly be…
A club. She was at a club. A new one, judging from how crowded it seemed to be. She kept bumping into people. Was there a new club opening up this weekend…? Nocturnal. What the hell was she doing there anyway?
Maybe… maybe he should check up on her to ensure she wasn't doing anything stupid.
Marcus grabbed his motorcycle jacket and headed out the door. Normally, he would’ve rationalized some more before he made a move, but this time, he didn't need to. His mind was set and seemed to be whenever it concerned her.
It took him thirty minutes of weaving in and out of traffic and breaking all speeding laws to get to the club from the manor even though it was located in the heart of the city. He hadn’t even prepared proper club attire due to his hasty departure that all he was wearing besides his jacket were jeans and a wife beater. His hair probably looked like shit too, thanks to the helmet he always wore.
He pushed through the line, offered the bouncer two hundred dollars, and stepped inside. All around women were scantily dressed and sleazy men were hanging on them, desperate for a night filled with forgetful passion and quick, self-gratification. Pushing through the crowd, he paid them no mind. A few women asked to buy him a drink while some even asked him to dance. Forging on, he didn't even hear them. His hazel eyes were searching through the crowd accumulated on the dance floor until he caught sight of a familiar head of hair, and then he could smell her…
Marcus's eyes narrowed when he realized she was not dancing alone, but with some guy holding onto her body like it was his for the taking. He continued to walk further into the crowd. It was only when he caught sight of the man attempting to continuously kiss Bridgette's neck that he felt his eyes narrow and a silent growl vibrate through his throat. He might have felt some reprieve seeing how Bridgette tried to shove the man off of her, but the fact that he was refusing to leave caused his anger to increase.
He didn't even have to think. Marcus grabbed the man by the back of the shirt and easily tossed him into the crowd without a second glance. The crowded didn’t even move, didn’t even make a big deal about it, as though fights were commonplace. Without warning, he grabbed Bridgette’s forearm and yanked her towards him, his hazel eyes narrowed, burning, and nothing short of furious.
23
In one moment, it felt as though the world faded away and what was left was solely the two of them. Neither of their eyes wavered from one another. It was like they were both at a checkmate but neither of them dared to move because it would surely break the trance.
It didn't escape Marcus's sharp eyes just how beautiful Bridgette looked right now. A sliver of Marcus couldn't blame Bridgette's former and now injured dance partner to try something with her, but that still didn't excuse the fact that the man had touched Bridgette. And Bridgette was his. His fingers tightened their hold on her. Hell, she was even marked as such. That was his bite on her neck. Just looking at it caused him to remember the sensations he had felt sinking his teeth into her flesh. He pulled her towards him, leading her off of the dance floor – pushing through the crowd, not even bothering to say excuse me - and down a secluded hallway lit by only dim lights, these one blood red. Surprisingly, Bridgette didn't fight him; instead, she let him lead her off of the dance floor and down the empty hallway. He only stopped when they were secluded enough to truly be alone, and pushed her back against the wall so she was forced to look at him.
"What do you think you're doing?" he growled, narrowing his eyes into hers before placing his hands on the wall adjacent to both sides of her face.
Bridgette matched his stare with one of her own. "I was dancing," she said in a firm voice.
"That was more than just dancing," he said, his voice still low and husky.
"Yeah, on his part," Bridgette replied. "I don't know if you saw, but I was pushing him – You know what, never mind. It's none of your business. What I do with my life is of no concern to you."
"Actually," Marcus said, his tone threatening. "It's exactly my business. Despite your unawareness of the situation, you belong to me. My mark is on your neck." He reached out and grabbed the portion of her throat with his callused fingertips. "Right there," he stated.
"Just because you marked me doesn't mean I'm yours, by the way," Bridgette snapped. "God, I am so sick of this culture that gets off on dominating women. And then the women in commercials or print ads or even women in general seem to enjoy being dominated and then men think that women really wanted to be dominated which means that even though they're saying no they really means yes, and-"
Without warning, Marcus crushed his lips on Bridgette's, stopping her mid-rant and pressing his body against hers. Bridgette hated to admit it, but she felt her body naturally respond to his ministrations, and she couldn't help but press her lips against his own in return.
When they broke apart, Marcus's eyes were clouded with a haze of desire and he looked at her as he licked his bottom lip. "Did you know that you talk too damn much?" he asked, seemingly breathless.
"You're an ass," Bridgette said. "And I don't belong to you."
"You belong to me," he restated. This time, his voice was firmer, as though the argument was over and he had won. "And I belong to you."
"I don't want you," Bridgette said through gritted teeth, wishing her words would somehow get through to him.
"I highly doubt that," Marcus growled and captured her lips with his once again.
When Bridgette was making her speech about dominant men and submissive women, she really did mean what she was saying. She would love it one day for a culture or a species to emerge where the women were the authoritative figure, the pursuer, and she knew from multiple sociology classes that there were some cultures that did have role reversals, but they were small, tribal cultures and it wasn't likely that the Western conception of society was going to change anytime soon.
However, upon feeling how possessive the kiss Marcus instilled on her lips, she felt her own body react to such carnal urges and realized that she didn't want to be dominated by any man but Marcus. She also wanted to be able to dominate him, if he was so willing.
"Tel
l me," Bridgette said when he released her lips despite wanting more upon the realization that it was becoming too crucial to breathe. However, Marcus wasted no time touching her neck with his lips, dragging his tongue down the slender curve, and dropping one hand in order to grab her waist. "If a woman was to dominate you, would you be willing to be dominated by her?"
Marcus's lips cocked up into a smirk and he stopped, raising his eyes to lock with hers. "Would that be you?" he asked her, his eyes dropping to her lips. He wanted to touch them once more. "Would you be dominating me?"
Bridgette bit her bottom lip as she felt a familiar tremor delve down into her pelvis causing ripples to spread throughout her figure. "Yeah," she said, her voice raspy, "It would be me."
"Then I look forward to it," Marcus said, pushing his leg in between hers so her thighs spread apart. "You have no clarity over us wolves, do you? We love to dominate, but we, too, have no qualms about switching roles if we're with the people we trust." Before Bridgette could ask the obvious question that had accumulated on the tip of her tongue, Marcus brought his lips close to hers and murmured, "But, at this moment, I'm going to be the one dominating you, and you're going to enjoy yourself when I do. Hell, you might even ask me to do it again." He grinned arrogantly before slipping his tongue into Bridgette's mouth, demanding that she kiss him back.
He reached down and grabbed the back of her thighs in order to lift her up. Instinctively, Bridgette coiled her arms around his broad shoulders, pushing her back against the wall so she had something to lean on, and wrapped her legs around his waist.
The Somerset Series: A Box Set: Books 2-4 Page 12