He's trapped me in his sights.
Waiting to consume me.
He wants to awaken the darkness inside me.
Possess it and own me.
Damon West is bad news.
He might appear charming on the outside.
But that's only a mask he wears to hide the true predator inside...
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I shouldn't be here.
I'm underage, I'm eighteen.
According to my mom, I'm still a baby. She would be disappointed in me if she knew, and maybe she does.
It's not my first time here, and it won't be my last. I like it here, at the Infinity Club.
The freedom.
The music.
The alcohol.
I tip my drink to my lips, swallowing the liquid that burns my throat on the way down. My hips sway to the music, and I tip my head back, feeling the strobe lights lighting up my face.
My long blonde hair swishes along my back, tickling the exposed skin. I take a deep breath as the pressure from my skull floats away.
The place has an exotic, classy atmosphere that I'm drawn to. The decor is black and dark blue. The lights are dim except for the blue strobe lights flashing around the open space.
Booths surround the edges of the dance floor, giving patrons privacy. The stairs to the side lead to a VIP balcony that overlooks the whole club. It's dark up there, offering guests a sense of anonymity.
I shouldn't be drinking. I know that. Do I care? Nope. It helps me let go, even if it's for a moment. Even if I know I deserve the pain.
The music moves my body, drowning all my horrible thoughts from my mind. There's freedom in the haze of alcohol. There's freedom in music that takes control of your limbs.
My escape.
Sweaty, moving bodies fill this place, grinding onto each other to the beat of the music. Everyone is feeling the haze of the alcohol—swimming in it, drowning in it.
The last thing I want is anyone's attention when I'm not supposed to be here, so I step back when someone comes near me. And they do—a lot.
My red dress falls amply to mid-thigh and bares half of my back. It's held up by thin spaghetti straps. It makes me look older than I am. It's provocative and sexy, making me look like I belong in a place I don't.
With a deep breath and a slight stumble in my steps, I make my way through the grinding bodies. I plaster a fake smile on my face as I approach the bar and climb onto one of the stools. Adam, the bartender, flashes a charming grin at me.
His long hair falls over his forehead. He's wearing a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to show his forearms. He's attractive in a boyish way.
"What can I get you this time, Jess?"
"Vodka lemonade again, please." I try not to sound flirty, but it comes out that way anyway. This is my fourth drink, and I'm feeling the haze of the alcohol right down to my bones. My inhibitions are loosening, fading away.
