Save Yourself (2 page)

Chapter Two

**Brogan **

As I watched the girl, Kester, leave the club with the blue-haired, Emo guy and another chick, I was vaguely disappointed we’d been interrupted before I could ask her back to my place to continue what we were doing. With the scent of her intoxicating Lust still burning in my nose, teasing the Hunger and making my head spin, I was unable to shake the arousal tightening my jeans. However, I knew it wouldn’t take me long to find another girl to take care of it. True to form, I was leaving the club fifteen minutes later with a violet-haired bombshell named Ariel, Ariella or something like that.

She was hot, but her Lust didn’t smell nearly as delectable as Kester’s. Still, she was giggly and flirty, just drunk enough to be eager, but not so drunk she’d wake up the next day wondering what the fuck she’d done the night before. I didn’t normally care how drunk they were, or what they were high on, but I felt like getting with someone who’d remember my name for days after she screamed it in ecstasy.

We took a taxi back to my place—I had a motorbike parked on the same street as the club, but I didn’t want to risk her falling off the damn thing. Unfortunately, it was a shitty part of town, so while we were in the cab, I called my roommate, who also happened to be a bouncer at the club, to tell him to take my bike home with him. He had the key anyway because I always gave him it before I entered the club, just in case some fucktard decided to lift it off me while I wasn’t paying attention. I’d learned that lesson the hard way.

By the time we made it back to my place, Ariella had undone my jeans button and lost her bra somewhere on the floor of the cab. I tossed some cash at the driver and helped the girl out, stumbling into the seedy block of flats I called home. The lobby smelled like piss and puke, as always. The tacky linoleum flooring was rotting away, and the mustard-coloured walls were tainted by mould and water damage. Ariel or Ariella, whatever, didn’t even notice. She was too intent on trying to shove her tongue in my mouth. That was okay, though. Hopefully, it meant she wouldn’t know where to come back to find me after I kicked her ass out the next morning.

Somehow, we made it up the stairs to the flat. Before I could even get the key out of my boot, she was pushing me against the door and shoving her hand into my jeans, rubbing her tits against my chest. I grabbed her by the back of the neck and forced her mouth up to mine, kissing her savagely while she worked her hand on me through my boxers.

The Hunger was roaring, feeding eagerly on the essence of her Lust, ramping up my own desire. When I almost couldn’t take it anymore, I pushed her off just long enough to find my key and open the door. We staggered inside, and she had her top off and on the floor before I’d even slammed the door. I kicked off my boots hastily, stripping my shirt and waistcoat, and grabbed her on the way to the ratty sofa.

We collapsed in a tangle of limbs, her arching under me as I stroked her breast, my other hand fumbling to undo the zip of my jeans. I buried my face in the curve of her neck, my teeth aching almost as much as my groin, and the need to feed on her blood overtaking the gluttonous devouring of her Lust.

I resisted the blood. As an Incubus, I could live on Lust alone, and I did. I fed on the energy of Lust, sucking it up the way a plant sucks up sunlight. I craved blood, like an alcoholic craves booze, but the second I started drinking it, I would become something else. Something darker than what I was. So I repressed that particular Hunger, and let the other go wild.

Finally, I got out of my boxers and yanked her thong down her legs, pushing her leather skirt up as she opened for me. I was in, and she was moaning as we rocked together, the essence of her Lust so strong I could taste it on my tongue—strawberries and cinnamon. I swore repeatedly as she raked her long, sharp nails down my back. Distantly, I knew that would leave scratches, but damn, it felt good in a twisted, painful kind of way.

As I knew she would, she screamed my name that night.

The next morning, she was gone when I woke up sprawled on the sofa in my boxers and the stains of the night’s activities. Jet, my roommate, was already making coffee in the poor excuse for a kitchen. Really, it was just one corner of the flat where the kettle and microwave sat.

I groaned as I sat up, and Jet looked at me across the back of the sofa. His shoulder-length blonde hair was tied back in a scrappy ponytail, and his black t-shirt stretched across his huge shoulders and muscled chest. I mean, I worked out, but Jet was built like a weight lifter and stood at just under six-foot seven. It was obvious why he made a good bouncer. Plus, the Celtic tribal tattooing along the left side of his face helped scare the shit out of any punk assholes that thought to make trouble at the club.

“Good night?” he rumbled in his gravelly voice, leaning against the wall while the kettle boiled. “You two were already knocked out when I came in around three. Just as well, ‘cause I really didn’t want to walk in on that shit. What’ve I told you about doing it on the sofa?”

Jet knew what I was, or at least most of it. He wasn’t entirely human himself. He had a bit of Norse blood in him, supposedly, and I’m talking great-great-great-grandparents in Asgard sort of Norse. So it didn’t bother him, knowing I wasn’t exactly normal. Seeing me do my thing, though, that bothered him.

Long distance descendant of a Norse deity or not, he was still just my roommate. I ignored his bitching and rolled off the sofa, the springs creaking, and padded toward the bathroom.

“Did you take my bike back?” I asked.

He nodded. “Parked it round the back way.”

“Good.”

“Coffee?”

“Yeah.”

That was the end of our morning conversation—assuming it was actually morning. I hadn’t checked the time, but considering it was Saturday, it didn’t really matter. I wasn’t working till Monday. That sucked because it meant I couldn’t go out the next night. My boss, Dylan, had said that if I came into the garage with a hangover once more, I was fired. He was such a dick.

Then again, so was I.

Chapter Three

** Kester **

I hadn’t slept well the night before. I’d been too worked up after what had happened at the club. Every time I’d closed my eyes, I could see
him
behind my lids, the guy from the club—his unbelievable eyes and beautifully arrogant smirk. The one time I had dozed off, I had dreamed of him, of him touching me everywhere, tasting me everywhere. I woke up sweating at six am and gave up on sleep. Instead, I went for a shower, hoping to cool down and freshen up. I didn’t know what had gotten into me—I only knew I wanted
him
to.

I spent the early morning cleaning up the house while Evie slept off her hangover. I hadn’t been drinking, which only added to my confusion over why I’d let a total stranger—albeit a hot one—stick his hand in my jeans. I wasn’t a total prude, but I normally had a rule about how far I’d go with a guy I met at a club. I’d usually at least get his name first.

I was still trying to shake him out of my head when Evie rolled out of bed at ten a.m., looking like the Corpse Bride. I didn’t try to talk to her as she made coffee—I knew she was as articulate as a Neanderthal before she had caffeine. She grabbed her mug and came to slouch on the sofa next to me, shielding her eyes from the pale light coming in through the window.

“Why the fuck are the curtains open?” she snarled.

I rolled my eyes, sipping from my own mug—it was my third coffee since I had gotten up. “Because the magical curtain fairy opened them,” I muttered sarcastically.

Evie shot me a glare in response, growled, and gulped her steaming coffee down before retreating to the bathroom and slamming the door behind her. I sighed and flipped on the TV to watch my recorded episode of Supernatural while she showered, hoping it would take my mind off that mysterious hot guy.

Once she was showered and dressed, Evie was in a much more tolerable mood. She sat and watched the end of Supernatural with me, and then left to go meet James, telling me as she went out the door not to wait up for her. I waved her off and stayed where I was on the sofa for a few minutes, contemplating what to do before ringing up Zack and asking if he felt like going clubbing again.

Of course, he was all for it. As I hung up, I told myself that my new fancy for Grimshade had nothing to do with that guy from the night before, but it’s hard to lie to yourself convincingly.

It hardly seemed possible, but the club was even more packed than it had been. I thought the music was louder too, but that could have been my imagination. Zack was dancing next to me, trying his best to draw me onto the floor, using some of his most ridiculous moves. He wasn’t actually a bad dancer, he just liked to pretend he was sometimes. He thought he was funny.

I let him make a spectacle of himself. I wasn’t really in the mood to dance. We’d been at the club for nearly half an hour, and I hadn’t seen any signs of the hot guy plaguing my mind. I didn’t know why I was so obsessed with him, but I wanted to see him again. I at least needed to know his name.

Zack nudged me. “Come on, Kez!” he yelled in my ear, over the pulsing music. “You dragged me here! The least you can do is dance with me!” He turned his most mournful puppy dog look on me, all wide blue eyes and pouty lips—the effect only slightly ruined by his electric blue hair and piercings. He knew I couldn’t resist that look.

I sighed. “Fine. One dance!”

He beamed and grabbed my hands as a fast rock song blared through the speakers. Everyone around us let out a whoop and started head banging in time to the wild beat. Zack pumped his fists in the air, swinging his hips back and forth to the music, his bright spiked hair bouncing. I couldn’t help laughing. His enthusiasm was contagious, and soon, I was moshing along with the rest of them and screaming along to the chorus of the song.

The people around me bumped and jostled me as they danced, so I didn’t realise immediately what was happening when someone grabbed my ass. I thought, for a second, I’d just been nudged, or maybe a quick grope, but when the hand started to slide into my jeans pocket, I whipped around.

“Hey! Look, don’t touch!”

“That wasn’t your rule last night,” the ass-grabber replied smoothly.

I looked up, surprised, into a pair of heather-coloured eyes. It was him, the hot guy. If possible, he looked even hotter than I remembered. His coal black hair was an artful mess, as if he’d either just rolled out of bed and forgotten to brush it or had spent hours in front of the mirror styling it so it looked that way. I was guessing the former. There were two small silver hoops in his ear in addition to the bar in his eyebrow, and he was wearing a tight-fitting white shirt with a grey graffiti print on it.

He was looking at me in a way that made me remember why I’d let him grope me. Those eyes were both unsettling and lethally seductive. With that devilish smirk, he exuded charm and danger, the wicked promise of wild sex and the silent threat of jail time.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t willing to take the risk. The guy got under my skin in all the right ways, and I still didn’t even know his name.

Realising I was staring at him, I mentally shook myself. Composing my face into my best, who-do-you-think-you-are look, I said, “My rules change depending on my mood. Tonight, I’m in the mood to break your hand if you touch my ass again.” I hoped he couldn’t read the lie on my lips.

He grinned, all white teeth and—
goddamn him
—adorable dimples. “Oh, really?”

I flipped my hair back and cocked a hip. “Really,” I replied flatly, starting to turn away, knowing—or at least hoping—he’d stop me.

And he did. He reached out and hooked his fingers into my back pocket again, reeling me back toward him. He locked one arm around my tiny waist, and I gasped, somehow still surprised by his boldness. A prickle of fear tiptoed up my spine, but I ignored it. I was safe. Zack was three feet away, and we were surrounded by people. Then again, being surrounded by other people hadn’t stopped him from doing what he wanted to me in the middle of the dance floor the night before.

His hand cupped my ass, squeezing, and he murmured against my neck, “Going to break my hand now?”

I swallowed, feeling the muscles of his arm flex against my stomach. I took a deep breath to steady myself and tilted my head back. “I’ll make you a deal. I won’t break your hand if you give me your name.”

He chuckled, the sound low and intoxicating in my ear. “Brogan. Nice to meet you…Kester, is it?”

I blinked, startled for a second that he knew my name. Then I remembered Zack shouting it across the club. Brogan must’ve heard him. “Kez,” I said evenly. “I go by Kez.”

“Well then, it’s nice to meet you, Kez. What do you say I buy you a drink?”

I rolled my eyes, though he couldn’t see it since he was still holding me from behind. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Mm…then how about we get out of here for a while? I know a place where we can…get acquainted.” His tone left no doubt about what sort of ‘acquainting’ he was talking about, and I felt a pulse of excitement at the thought. Before I knew what I was doing, he was leading me out of the throng of dancers, through the club to a fire door near the back, and out into the alleyway.

Outside, it was raining lightly. A cool August wind stirred up the litter, and fingers of light from a streetlamp probed the narrow alley. The smell of cigarette smoke, piss, and rainwater was masked by the wild, rich scent Brogan wore. I couldn’t help but think that, whatever that aftershave was, it was delicious, and I sucked it in as he backed me up against the wall of the alleyway.

There was siren going off in my head, red lights flashing, warning me this was a bad, bad idea. It was more than being alone in an alley with a strange man. There was this bone-deep feeling in me, telling me he was more dangerous than I realised.

I started to tell him I’d changed my mind, that I wanted to go back in the club, but then he planted his palms on either side of my body, trapping me between his chest and the wet bricks. His wet hair hung in his eyes, rain dripping off his lashes. Those eyes. So bright, so intense, so…wild.

He was looking at me as if he wanted to kill me—or eat me. I shuddered in a way that had nothing to do with the frigid rain beating down on us, soaking us both to the skin. His shirt was plastered to his body, and I could clearly see the defined muscles underneath, and the power in his arms as he flexed them, leaning in toward me with his teeth bared like a lion going in for the kill.

My heart was pounding, my blood racing. There was a tight feeling in my chest, and an aching heat between my legs.
Fuck.
I had the craziest urge to grab his head, force his mouth to meet mine, and wrap my legs around his hips.
Shit
. What was this guy doing to me?

Slowly, so slowly, he lifted one hand off the wall and ran his finger down the side of my neck, over my throbbing pulse. I bit my lip, trying not to let my eyelids flutter at his light, hot touch. He held my gaze commandingly, and I stared back in defiance as his hand slid lower over my wet skin. His fingertip hooked under the collar of my shirt, pulling it down slowly to reveal my cleavage and the top of my lacy black bra.

I could barely breathe. My entire body tense with a longing so intense, it almost scared me. His eyes had darkened, and they slipped down to examine the flesh he’d revealed. I felt his gaze stroke over my skin like a warm feather. Then he smiled, just the corners of his lush mouth curving up, and his gaze slid back up to mine. He bent his head close to mine, and I froze, my heart thrashing. His woodsy scent filled my nose, flooded my lungs, and sent a fresh wave of desire tumbling through my unruly body.

His hot breath tickled my ear as he murmured, “Say yes, and I will show you the true meaning of the word ecstasy.”

His words drove into me like a bolt of lightning, and I clutched at his shirt, sinking my nails into his shoulders.
Damn it. Damn him
. The small part of my brain that was still functioning properly screamed at me, but my body screamed louder. My body demanded I say yes to anything he wanted, if he would just kiss me already.

He was waiting, so close, his eyes gleaming eagerly. He knew I would say it. He knew I couldn’t refuse.

But that was exactly why I did.

With as much strength as I could gather, I shoved him away. His total surprise was the only thing that allowed me to move him back, and he blinked as if he couldn’t believe what I’d just done. Honestly, neither could I. There was a fire roaring inside me, begging to be quenched. My skin felt hot, and even the cold rain couldn’t cool it. Wrapping my arms around myself, I leaned my head back against the wall, breathing hard. The icy rain stung my face, running over my closed eyes and parted lips.

I swallowed twice and whispered, “No.”

He didn’t answer. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, suddenly afraid of what he might do in response to my refusal, afraid to see his anger. However, he didn’t make a sound. Cautiously, I opened my eyes.

I was alone in the rain. He was gone.

After a few moments to pull myself back together, I went back into the club to find Zack. I claimed I wasn’t feeling too great and got him to give me a lift home.

It wasn’t until I was in my room, undressing for bed, that I heard the rustle of paper in my jeans pocket. Curious, I bent down and stuck my hand in all the pockets until I found a scrap tucked in the back pocket. It was a receipt from a petrol station for energy drinks and peanuts; both of which I hated. Confused as to how a receipt that wasn’t mine had ended up in my pocket, I flipped the little piece of paper over. I found an address for a flat downtown written on the back in small black letters, along with the words: PARTY FRIDAY 10PM. COME ALONG IF YOU CHANGE YOUR MIND. B.

I stared at the note in my hand, chewing my lip. I read that last line again, and I was tempted, so tempted. “Shit,” I muttered, crumpling the receipt in my hand. I went to drop it in the small bin by my chest-of-drawers, paused, and swore again. Instead, I shoved the note in my underwear drawer and quickly retreated to have a shower. Somehow, I already knew Brogan was going to feature in my dreams again.