The Vaults Temptation (an ADULT 18+ READ)

Chapter 21

Dimitri

What the fuck just happened. My control slipped and I get myself go, I refused to let Holly come, and I refused to come. It was not about pleasure, it was bout standing on my word and to make sure she knows I'm not fucking around. After I leave the Vault, I drive down the highway, my hands tight on the steering wheel, the city lights a blur as I push the car faster. Holly's gotten under my skin, and it's pissing me off. I think back to her plump lips around my cock earlier, however her eyes started tearing when I'm pushed myself deeper, her soft curves pressing against me, the way her body fit perfectly under my hands. My jaw tightens, and I press down harder on the gas, needing the speed to drown out the frustration. I need a drink, from a club that's not mine. When I finally reach the club across town, I hand my car keys to the valet, ignoring his wide-eyed look. The bouncer pats me down at the door, a formality that makes me grind my teeth. Like anyone could get the drop on me in here. As soon as I step inside, the familiar thumping bass of the music hits me, a pulse of sound that vibrates through my chest. I tune it out, heading straight for the bar. I signal the bartender and growl, "Five fingers of whiskey." It's gonna take a lot more than that to clear my head.

Waiting for my drink, I spot a man and woman nearby. He's all over her, hands roaming her body, and she's laughing, soaking up the attention. My drink lands in front of me, and I down it in three gulps, savoring the burn as it sears down my throat. But it does nothing to cool me off. Holly's fucking got a hold on me, and I hate it. Why does she do this to me? Why can't I just shut it off?
I try to push the thought of her aside, but when I glance over again, the man is kissing the woman's neck, her head tilted back in a daze. My eyes narrow as I see the bastard slip something into her drink. Motherfucker. "Fucking animal," I mutter under my breath. My hands move to unbutton my cuffs, rolling up my sleeves as my eyes stay locked on him.

I shrug off my suit jacket and hang it over the back of a chair, knowing this is about to get messy. I don't give a shit about my appearance right now. What I care about is making sure this asshole doesn't get away with drugging some girl like it's a goddamn game. I stride over, grab the woman's arm, and pull her away from him. "Go home. Now. Your drink's spiked," I tell her, voice sharp. She gasps, eyes wide in shock, and stumbles off in her heels, no questions asked. The man, oblivious to what's about to happen, tries to puff up his chest. "Hey man, what the fu—" His words are cut off as I drive my fist into his face, a satisfying crunch filling the air. He stumbles, blood spilling from his nose, but I don't give him a second to recover. I grab him by the shirt, dragging him to his feet. His eyes are wide, panic setting in. "Who are you?" he stammers, voice shaking.

"You think you can go around drugging girls? Huh?" My voice is low, calm, lethal. It's not a question, really. More like a warning. I drag him outside, shoving him into the alley next to the club. His hands come up, shaking, trying to bargain. "Look, I—I'm sorry, okay?" I don't say a word. Instead, I hit him again, my knuckles connecting with his jaw in a brutal punch. He crumples to the ground, but I'm not finished. Another punch lands, harder than the first. Blood splatters onto my hands, my white shirt, but I don't stop. This isn't just about him—this is about all the shit I can't control. Each hit is cathartic, a way to channel the storm inside me. By the time I'm done, he's a bloody mess on the ground, barely conscious. My chest rises and falls with steady breaths, the adrenaline still pumping through my veins. I look down at my bloodstained hands, flexing my fingers. The asshole on the ground groans, but I'm already done with him. He's lucky I didn't take it further.

I walk away from the alley, the scent of blood still clinging to my hands. It should feel good—taking out that piece of shit. But it doesn't. It never does. The rush of violence fades, leaving the same hollow emptiness behind. I slip my jacket back on, ignoring the crimson smears on my shirt. It's a small price to pay for reminding the world that some lines shouldn't be crossed. Not tonight. My mind's too caught up in Holly, in the way her body felt against mine. Every time I think I've got her figured out, she pulls some shit like this—testing my limits, driving me fucking insane. She's in my head, under my skin, making me lose control in a way no one else ever has. And I hate it. I hate that she's become my weakness, the one thing I can't compartmentalize.
I climb into my car and start the engine, I pull out of the parking lot and head home. I can't stop thinking about the way she looks at me like she knows she's got the upper hand, and it drives me fucking mad. She has no idea what she's playing with, no idea what kind of danger she's stirring up. She's not just some girl I can fuck and forget—she's something else entirely. And that's what scares me. Because if I don't get a handle on this, on her... I'll burn everything down trying to keep her.