Another urge I need to put to rest tonight.
Then I can go back to my real life.
The man at the center seems to be done talking. And the moment his speech is over, he suddenly takes one leg and brings it around the back of the other man’s knees.
He drops to the floor and they start wailing punches on each other already, and every instinct inside me is begging to go break up the fight.
Not what I’m here for.
I take off across the room, my eyes darting around as I try to avoid any contact. Being here is like willingly putting my body on display for whoever wants it, but there’s only one man here that I’m trying to find.
I search below the sleeves of people’s suits, trying to find his raven tattoo.
A glass breaks across the room and a woman shouts, then breaks out into low laughter. I turn and see a man hoveringabove her, pouring liquor from a half broken glass down the front of her body, down past a strappy black corset with gauzy material above it. Two patterned snake tattoos flank her breasts, which are bare and on prominent display above the cinched corset. Another woman comes over and starts undoing the buttons on the front of her pants, one by one.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.
I spot a few men leaving through the back doors toward the vast back lawn. The rain has lessened to a drizzle and people here don’t seem to care, heading right out into the wet grass.
Where the fuck are you, Sevan Berlant?
I should not be here, and the only reason I am is for you.
The cricketsout back are deafening. The air is cool but humid after the downpour, and I walk out into the drizzly mist, past a stately marble fountain rushing with water.
Two men are grappling at the edge of the fountain, alternately laughing or grunting depending on how hard they’re hit.
Another group of people are already stripping bare next to a hot tub, pawing at each other like animals.
“You’re lost,” I hear a man’s voice say from behind me.
A strong hand grips around my wrist in an instant, and I yank my arm backward, trying to pull away.
“Get the fuck off me,” I tell him in a low tone. “I’m not here to fight.”
He pulls my arm harder and I spin around, glaring at him from behind my mask.
“Wrong. Everyone is here to fight.”
I have no idea who this guy is. I watch his cold, calculating brown eyes as he pulls something out of his jacket pocket, and he gives me a quick shove back toward the house. I walk back in, hoping someone will see and get him off of me.
But his grip tightens around my wrist as we walk past one of the grand staircases inside.
“The fuck are you doing?” I protest. “I said let mego.”
He shoves me down onto the staircase.
My ass hits the hard step and my back slams against one of the wooden banisters, right along my spine.
I’m strong, but this man is a lot bigger than me, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he was dosing himself with some kind of steroids with the way the veins look in his neck.
Cold metal hits my wrist and as I glance down, a littleclickfills the air.
He’s handcuffed one of my wrists to the banister.
Panic surges through my veins.
“Been waiting for new meat,” he says.