by J. Kearston
Table of Contents
Discord | © 2020 J. Kearston | All rights reserved
Chapter 1 | Lucien
Chapter 2 | Cambria
Chapter 3 | Dorian
Chapter 4 | Atlas
Chapter 5 | Cambria
Chapter 6 | Lucien
Chapter 7 | Dorian
Chapter 8 | Atlas
Chapter 9 | Cambria
Chapter 10 | Lucien
Chapter 11 | Dorian
Chapter 12 | Atlas
Chapter 13 | Lucien
Chapter 14 | Cambria
Chapter 15 | Dorian
Chapter 16 | Atlas
Chapter 17 | Cambria
Chapter 18 | Lucien
Chapter 19 | Dorian
Chapter 20 | Atlas
Chapter 21 | Cambria
Chapter 22 | Cambria
Discord
© 2020 J. Kearston
All rights reserved
No part of this work may be duplicated, reproduced, or transferred by any means, without the written approval of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual people (living or dead), places, or events is purely coincidental. This series is meant for adults and contains sexual scenes (positive and consensual)
Please note: This series deals with some darker things that some may find triggering, including ptsd flashbacks, depression, as well as graphic scenes of blood and violence later in the series. While I would love for you to read my work, never do so at the risk of your mental health.
*Cover by Nichole Witholder at Rainy Day Artwork*
Chapter 1
Lucien
“Why did I let you two talk me into this again?”
Dorian grins, actively ignoring my discomfort as he always does. “Come on, Luce; it’ll do you some good to loosen up. We haven’t seen each other much in months; you’re always busy. It’s not going to kill you to try to enjoy yourself.”
I scowl as Atlas claps a hand to my shoulder. “Hate to tell you this, L, but you need to get laid. There’s a stick so far up your ass, we might as well set you up in the field to scare off crows. There’s more to life than work, you know.”
As I shoot him a pointed glare he steps back, holding his hands up in surrender. Eventually I sigh, but stop protesting. The sooner I accept they aren’t going to let this go, the sooner I can call it a night.
If there’s one thing I hate worse than tax season, it’s fuckin’ night clubs. The heavy bass is already assaulting my ears from here and I can only imagine how much worse it’s going to be when we get inside.
“How are we supposed to find some random women in this hellhole?” I grimace with distaste.
Atlas laughs. “Finding random chicks isn’t the problem; it’s finding one in particular that actually wants to give you the time of day.” He pushes open the door, effectively ending the conversation since speech is beyond impossible in this noise.
Dorian, Atlas, and I work our way through the crowd gathered just inside the doors and off to the left where the bar stretches, encompassing the entire length of the wall. On the opposite side is a series of booths, most with drunk couples pawing at each other. In the center though, I must admit, I’m a bit impressed. It’s recessed down into the floor about two dozen steps, leaving the gyrating bodies contained in a pit. The far side of it ends in a stage raised halfway between the ground and our level where the DJ is working the crowd into a frenzy.
The lighting is fucking with my senses, a harsh contrast of darkness and strobe effects. It’s overwhelming to the utmost degree and I don’t see how anyone can actually enjoy this place; especially Dorian, with all of the drunken strangers stumbling into each other.
“Come on, let’s get this over with,” I sigh, trying to make the best of ‘guys night out’ as they insist on calling it.
We descend into the pit and I fight the urge to shove people aside as they keep bumping into me. Too many people, too much noise. The sensory overload is enough to give me a killer headache, and I’m already counting down the minutes until I can fake a call and bail. Bodies writhe and twist, grinding against each other shamelessly and tactlessly.
How’s anyone supposed to meet someone in this place? Atlas can’t possibly assume I’m going to just start pawing at some girl on the dance floor; there are laws against that.
I turn to search out the others, finding Atlas already caught up with some brunette and Dorian happily jumping in time to the music, merging into the crowd without missing a beat. Even though I ditched the suit for the evening, I feel just as out of place as if I hadn’t. I don’t belong here, in this place, with this crowd. They’re practically salivating at the prospect of plunging into life with reckless abandon, not giving a second thought to the fallout. They drink so they have an excuse not to take responsibility for their actions, to pawn off the blame on something besides themselves so they can do what they truly desire.
At least admit what you want to yourself, if no one else.
I just want to go home, finish the last few chapters of my book, and call it a night; to enjoy the silence and solitude. There’s just no appeal for me to drag meaningless drama into my life, and I can pretty much guarantee that anyone I brought home from this place would attempt to rob me blind the second my back was turned.
Suddenly, the strobing lights completely shut down, plunging the club into absolute darkness as the music cuts off. It’s a brief respite of beautiful silence, but I can only imagine how many people will get trampled to death trying to rush out of here while it’s pitch black.
A soft fog coats the pit and the crowd goes ape-shit, so whatever is happening is just part of the show instead of a power outage, sadly. Exhaling a harsh breath, I try to relax, but there’s no dropping my guard in a place like this.
On the DJ stage halfway up the pit wall in front of me, a soft red light kicks on low and a shadowy figure steps up, her features cast in shadow and smoke. When she starts to sing, not a breath can be heard beyond hers. I’m familiar with Monody, but I’ve never heard it sung in such a captivating, haunting way that has me unconsciously leaning closer.
I should have known better, because after a brief moment, the music kicks up, giving it a techno remix. The crowd starts to move with the bass, and the girl’s voice manages to carry and wrap around each person individually.
She hops off the stage gracefully, merging into the crowd and jumping, dancing with one person just to spin around with a rock of her hips, continuing her song seamlessly. No matter how effortlessly she moves through the crowd, she manages to stand apart. A beacon in the darkness, drawing all eyes to her haunting silver ones.
The other women are wearing barely enough clothes to keep from being arrested, yet she’s in simple jean shorts and a white t-shirt splattered with paint. The red light is traded for a purplish glow as it switches to black light, and it’s clear this is common here. She’s not the only one that glows in the darkness, others coming to life under her attention as she transforms this obnoxious place into something unique, something entrancing that I have to admit, makes it just a bit less terrible than before.
When she trails closer and brushes against me, instead of getting pissed like I’ve been, my cock jumps like a fuckin’ teenager as she rubs against me. She’s gone as quickly as she came, weaving her way throughout the heavy throng of bodies.
When her impromptu concert ends, she flips a few switches on her board up on stage, the room and music returning to the way it was before she arrived. She rocks with the bass, sets a playlist, and disappears as abruptly as she arrived. She practically blinks out of existence, not even her striking, multicolored hair giving her away
. I push my way through the writhing bodies towards Atlas and Dorian, and with a jerk of my head, we climb out of the pit and up towards the booths.
“Holy hell,” Dorian grins. “She's new.”
Atlas smirks. “Don’t get ahead of yourself there, nerd. If any of us are going home with that bombshell, it’ll be me.”
Shaking my head at them, I roll my eyes. “You two talk like it’s a done deal. Woman like that can do far better than you two assholes.”
Dorian childishly sticks his tongue out and flips me off while Atlas just grunts. “You think you stand a chance then, boss?”
I huff out an amused breath at that, the sound harsh, and hell, I’ve missed them. Not that I’d ever admit it aloud.
“Hell no. Girl like that has trouble written all over her. I don’t need that headache, Atlas. You two give me enough problems to handle already.”
Abandoning them, I leave to get a drink, needing literally anything to make this night fly by quicker. The crowd is much more manageable up here and it doesn’t take long until I catch sight of the bar, but more notably, the girl getting pushed off of it. She’s hopping up to sit on it a second time as I get within earshot and the bartender promptly shoves her right back off.
“You know the rules; only asses on the bar are if they’re getting bent over it,” he scolds, eyes narrowed in disapproval.
“Would it get me something from the top shelf?” She grins playfully, batting her eyes at the man as she leans in to rest her arms on the counter.
He snorts. “You wouldn’t know the difference between a Russo-Baltique and Everclear. Take your screwdriver and go back to the cave you crawled out of, heathen.”
She flutters a hand to her chest in mock indignation. “You wound me, Cy. Keep talking like that and people will think I’m some horrible witch.”
Cy jerks his head towards me as he notices me openly eavesdropping. He mumbles something low towards her, and I try to look away, really I do, but there’s just something about the girl that keeps drawing my attention back to her. She tilts her head to face us and I get my first solid look at her.
The hair at her scalp is a bright, sky blue, fading deeper to purple before blending into red. The tips end in a golden color, and I have never once seen someone with such eccentric hair in my life. It should look ridiculous, but she manages to pull it off flawlessly; like a hummingbird flitting around, unable to sit still and unaware of how entrancing it is to behold. That, coupled with her unnerving, piercing silver eyes, makes her look absolutely mesmerizing.
Motherfuck, she’s got trouble written all over her. And yet, I can’t seem to look away.
Dorian and Atlas come up behind me as she slams back her drink, raises the empty glass, and gets to her feet. “Thanks for the drink, but I’m calling it a night. Good luck in the cesspool, boys.” She turns and saunters away without so much as a backwards glance, heading towards the employee door on the far wall and disappears.
Atlas slaps my shoulder. “Good on you for trying though, Lucien. Sucks, but bound to happen a few times.”
I toss him a confused look over my shoulder. “I didn’t buy her a drink.”
Cy laughs. “No, you did.” He tosses Atlas his credit card and walks away to go help the building line of customers, cackling away.
“Son of a bitch.” I reach into my back pocket and open my wallet, finding my credit card missing too.
By Dorian’s sigh, I can only assume his is gone also.
“That little show of hers. That’s why she worked through the crowd; she was pickpocketing everyone.”
I didn’t even get laid and still got robbed.
“We might not have gotten lucky, but we sure got fucked over,” Dorian mirrors my sentiments, frowning.
Glancing up at Atlas from my seat, I glare at him like it’s his fault. And to be fair, it is; he’s the one that decided we needed to go out. He grinds his teeth, turning to stomp over to the bartender.
“Where can we find her?” he growls.
“Buddy, you don’t find Cambria. She finds you, and lord help ‘ya if she does.” Cy walks away still cackling, leaving us no closer than we were before.
“Well, that was mildly alarming,” Dorian helpfully points out, taking things in stride.
I rise to my feet, glowering. “Come on, she can’t have gone far.”
Chapter 2
Cambria
Six hundred and twenty, six hundred sixty, seven hundred. Thank fuck.
I flip through the bundle of cash in the ‘employee lounge’ with my feet kicked up on the table in front of me and tipping my chair back on two legs. Really, it’s just a room big enough to store our shit and a few of us to eat on break, but people have long since stopped storing anything valuable in here.
I know, I was surprised too.
The bass is muffled behind the door, but I can still swing one of my feet in time with the beat. It may sound like nothing beyond noise to some people, but I love it. It’s dramatic, heavy, and I can’t think when it’s blasting. All I can do is let it take over my body and dance until I can barely stand, let alone focus on all of the shit in my life. There’s something to be said about mindless pleasure, and I embrace the concept like there’s no tomorrow. It’s never promised for the best of them, and even less so for someone like me.
The door slams open behind me and I tip my head back to view the world upside down while stuffing the money into my bra. It’s not the first time somebody got their panties in a twist with me around, and honestly, I’m still shocked I haven’t gotten my ass beaten for it yet.
The club owner puts up with me because I draw in a heavy crowd that pads his pockets, so he doesn’t care if I skim some from the sheep as long as it isn’t from him. But the occasional person that’s far too sober for this place isn’t as kind. Typically, I just duck out after and avoid all of the drama, but I needed to make sure I had enough tonight before I left, since it’s already past my deadline.
That, and there’s something about the dark haired, stoic man that’s making my powers agitated. Not in a bad way, but an unsettling one I haven’t encountered before. And let’s be real, I’m a sucker for a good mystery.
The three men storm into the room wearing various expressions of pissed off and amused, like they can’t decide what they’re supposed to be feeling. Not unusual, I get that a lot, but with the way one of them is glaring at me, I send up a silent thanks that Jax is due to go on break any minute in case I run into trouble.
“Cambria,” the hostile one scolds, and I hate him just a little bit for talking that way to a person he doesn’t even know.
I’ve heard enough of that tone in my life; I don’t deserve it from a man I’ve never met. Where does he get off deciding how I should behave? I mean sure, I stole his credit card, but I only bought one drink with it. And gave it back! Really, he should be grateful.
“In the flesh,” I goad, continuing to tap my foot to the rhythm and feigning calm.
“Fork ‘em over,” tall, dark, and trouble calmly demands, strutting up beside his angry friend and jutting out his hand.
I slip the other two cards out of my back pocket and slap them into his palm without a fight. “No need to be so upset. How else was a girl supposed to get your attention in this place?”
He pauses, confused and taken aback, but the blonde snorts. “Dude, she’s playing you.” He grabs his card and stuffs it back in his wallet. “Pretty girls will say whatever they can to get away with shit.”
He motherfuckin’ didn’t.
Getting to my feet, I count to three so that I won’t lose control and do something I may or may not regret. If I go by which man took which card back, it's Lucien that steps in to try and regain control over the situation.
“Don’t be difficult because you got caught. You should expect things like this to happen. If you managed your money better, you wouldn’t need to steal,” he chastises.
I change my mind. I don’t care if I am curious about what’s mak
ing my powers agitated, these three can kindly fuck right off.
Atlas runs a hand through his shaggy dark hair. It ends up sticking every which way in a haphazard mess as he backs down, looking nervous. “L, let’s just call this one a wash and go home.”
Dorian interjects before I can formulate a seething retort, too focused on wanting to knock Lucien on his ass. “Sure, she might not be what we were expecting, but we’ve handled worse situations. It worked out well enough, so let’s just head back out there.”
Bet these three are real lucky with the ladies with all of the garbage spewing out of their mouths. I wonder if they know what kind of assholes they sound like or if they even care.
I don’t bother opening my mouth because I’m a lady. If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. And these three fucktwats would be in for a litany of ‘not nice’ if I attempted it right now.
When I step out into the hallway, Lucien grabs my elbow to stop me. I don’t even have time to knee him in the balls before Jax comes around the corner right on cue with a royally pissed off expression. The club’s bouncer is a beast of a man that would make most grown men piss themselves if they saw him coming, and I could kiss his shiny little head right now for his flawless timing.
“I’m only going to say this once, jackass. Hands off,” Jax rumbles. He doesn’t need to raise his voice to be heard over the music; it carries down the hall with a dark menace all its own.
“You don’t understand,” Lucien growls, but he does let go. “She robbed us and who knows how many others!”
Jax turns to me and raises an eyebrow. “You shackin’ up with these assholes, Ria?”
I shake my head. “You know my motto; a dick a day keeps the feelings away. I live alone for a reason.”
Jax refocuses his attention on the men behind me while I not-so-subtly slip behind the bouncer like a coward. I’m not, but I’ll sure as shit let him hold them off while I get a head start.
A martyr, I am not.