You’re scared of yourself.
I’m perfectly aware of who I am. But I’m not sure I’ll like that reflection in your eyes.
All of you, Carter. And I promise I’ll give you all of me too.
He doesn’t reply anymore. I check my phone the whole way to Metamorphosis, but to no avail.
As Lee opens the back door for me and helps me climb out of the car, I thank him and head toward the club’s entrance. The eyes that fall on me as I walk over are impossible to miss, even behind their masks. I fastened mine inside the car, so no one could see my face, but I have a feeling my face is not where they’re looking.
More and more of them notice me as I go through the usual checks and pass the reception foyer decorated in decadent dark velvet and bathed in a sultry golden light. Then I climb down the steps into the darkness of Metamorphosis, where one truly becomes either the real version of themselves or someone else entirely. Who will I be after tonight?
I stop close to the bottom of the stairs, looking around for a familiar body or mask, but the club is already busy and the man who should be waiting for me either isn’t or I can’t recognize him.
On anxious steps, I try not to trip on my excessively high heels as I head for an empty space at the end of the bar. At the start of the evening, most seats tend to be taken, everyone still a bitstiff.I don’t blame them. It’s exactly how I’m feeling—riddled with nervous energy.
“A necromancer, please.” I order my go-to cocktail from the bartender and pull out my phone. I shoot a text to Carter, letting him know I’m here.
My drink comes before any reply from him, and I lean against the bar, gaze searching nervously around the club for any trace of the man. I’ve seen his mask before, and I would recognize it now, but no one stands out.
A few people thought I was paying them attention and came to talk to me, so many more than when I usually come in here. This dress is like a fucking beacon, yet it’s not attracting the one man I’m dying to see me in it.
“Hello there.”
“Hello.” I turn to find a familiar white mask covering two-thirds of the man’s face.
We’ve spoken before. Of course, no names were exchanged, but we recognize each other from the masks. I’ve never seen him play, or cared to, for that matter, but he’s been fairly okay company. Polite.
Tonight, though, he sits much closer to my personal space.
“Are you enjoying your night?”
“I’ve only just arrived. You?” I ask, pulling away slightly.
“Much more now. I must say, you look absolutely ravishing tonight.”
“Oh, thanks.” I guess I didn’t all the other nights?
“There’s something different about you.” He touches my arm, fingers sliding a bit too gently down it. “Tell me, what are you looking for tonight?”
“Actually, I’m—”
“Love...” The air shifts as the deep whisper spills into my ear, its warmth brushing over it as he presses against my back.
One word, lost through the sultry music filling this expansive space, yet I know without a shadow of a doubt it’s Carter.
“She’s with me.” He stakes his claim, circling his arm around my waist and forcing the other guy’s hand from my elbow.
The man sighs, pursing his lips. “Next time, make sure she wears a bracelet.” And with that salty comment, he turns and leaves.
I realize I’m clutching the bracelet tightly in my fist, completely forgotten.
“Another punishment on the list for you, kitten? Maybe it will remind you to wear the appropriate bracelet so people know you aretaken.” He emphasizes each syllable of that word as he presses me harder against him. “I like when other people admire what is mine, but never touch. You understand that, Scarlet?Never touch.Though, when it comes to you, I’m not sure I can even stand their stares.”
I lean back into him, brushing my hand over his as I drop my head to his shoulder. “What if they touch? What would you want to do to them?”
His lips brush softly against the top of my ear as he whispers in an erotic tone, “Carve their backs open, wrap my hand around their spine, and rip it. Right. The fuck.Out.”
The moan spilling from my tongue is nothing short of erotic with a disturbing edge. But Carter doesn’t run. Doesn’t recoil. He embraces me tighter, running his free hand over my arm, interlacing his fingers with mine like he’s making sure I won’t run.
