Page 37 of Unlocked Desire: Vol One
Over the years, I’ve made a habit of walking the club floor, standing on my perch above the fray, and viewing the stain on the world known as humanity.
I fucking hate people. Even the ones I like. I find them distasteful, their minds full of the mundane, their desires juvenile. The disdain allows me to do what I need to without blinking an eye.
I’m about to head back to my office when she appears. Something different. Beauty in a world of filth. A slight-looking girl with long, silky black hair. A raven moving gracefully amongst the trash.
The other women, pathetic creatures, surround her, flaunting themselves for a glance from the piece of shit men nearby. But not her. She stands apart, looking as if she wants to disappear. It only makes me want to gaze at her more.
My eyes feast on her before two fake blondes drag her to the dance floor. She doesn’tlook like she wants to take part. Her long black hair flows around her shoulders as she shakes her head, but the blonde carcasses pull at her, regardless.
She shakes her head again, waving her friends off, but the blondes keep tugging at her until all three are in the center of the dance floor. The black raven—a beautiful bird with clipped wings. The two blonde vultures dance around her seductively, trying to capture the attention of greedy eyes. They have no idea that they’re nothing but flecks of dirt discarded on the ground compared to her.
The raven looks uncomfortable. She sways her body to the music, but her rhythm is off. A random man, nothing special, approaches her. I’m familiar with the type; they look for girls who appear unsure of themselves so they can prey on them. But he doesn’t realize that the raven has my attention, and now she’s mine. Nobody messes with what’s mine.
I make eye contact with a few of my boys, prominent, well-trained men who ensure everything in the club runs smoothly. They take care of any unwanted riff-raff who straggle into the place. Usually, we don’t make a big deal about men hitting on women, but the idea of anyone touching my raven doesn’t sit well with me. The violence I keep leashed has roared to the surface. I’m not a man anyone wants to be around when I become unhinged.
I push through the crowd, gagging on the scent of cologne masking the stench of sweat. I stand a few feet from my raven, my eyes roaming her body and zeroing in on her trembling hands as she tries to push the man away. I don’t like that he’s frightened her. The rage always lurking under the surface of my skin takes over. The monster, ready and waiting to take out anyone who dares to make my raven unhappy.
“I suggest you step away from the lady.” My voice is calm and level.
I was taught at a young age to control my feelings, to hide my wants, and cage my desires. There’s no reason for this little shit to think he has anything on me. Just another commonplace interaction between a bouncer and an aggressive fucking drunk.
The man snakes his arm around Raven’s waist. I glance up, noting how uncomfortable she is. I don’t say a word. Pushing the two blondes who ignored my raven out of the way, I pick Raven up and move her behind me before grabbing the man’s wrist. I twist his wrist until I hear a snap.
“What the fuck, man?” he screams in agony, cradling his injured wrist with his good one. His face contorts with pain.
I smile at the man as if nothing has happened and state calmly, “She didn’t want you to touch her.”
“She wasn’t saying no!”
“That’s a lie. I told him to go away, but he wouldn’t.” Raven’s voice joins the conversation. It’s beautiful, even laced with a hint of anger. She sounds angelic. Perfect. I didn’t know a sound so pure was possible.
“I’m gonna call the police. You broke my goddamn wrist!”
“Go ahead. Please make sure you mention my name. Vance Matthew sends his regards. If I leave you alive by morning.”
Upon hearing my name, the man’s eyes round. His head drops, and he stares blankly at the lights reflected on the marble floor. So, my instinct was right. He is scum. People who react like that to my name know exactly who I am and what kind of work I do. They’re the ones who fear the monster the most when it’s unleashed on them, knowing what I’m capable of. To fear my name is to fear me.
My guys come up from behind and pull his arms back, making him humble.
I smile as Rock tosses me the man’s wallet. “Kevin Muller, 505 West Conrad Street.” The man’s eyes widen as I read his name and address. “Kevin, two things happened this evening that I suggest you never forget. Make sure they’re branded on your brain. First, if a woman says no, listen. Second, if you ever fuck with this young lady or me again, I will hunt you down like the rabid dog you are and put you out of your misery.”
I toss the wallet to Kevin. It hits his chest and bounces onto the floor. “Pick it up.”
Kevin hesitates, so I walk closer, looking him directly in the eyes. “Pick. It. Up.” He stumbles as he bends over, and my knee connects with his face. “You missed your wallet.”
Kevin grabs the wallet, and my boys hold him up. His eyes are wild with fear. A trail of blood oozes down his face, and the crimson drops hit the white marble floor.
Around us, patrons are staring. I don’t care. All sense of reason has vanished from my brain. I want him to pay for thinking he can breathe the same air as my raven, let alone touch her. “Kevin. You’re gonna go home and never step foot near her or this club again. If I see you anywhere near here, I will cut you from navel to nose like a goddamn fish. Got it?”
Kevin shakes his head, his body trembling.
“Kevin, I need to hear you say it, so there’s no confusion. Do. You. Got. It?”
“Yes,” he whimpers. He stumbles as my boys release him and runs out of sight.
I turn to the crowd and smile as I adjust my suit. “Drinks on the house. “Just let them know today is the Vance special,” I announce.
The crowd cheers, forgetting what they witnessed moments ago.