Sliced Trees and Dead Words

13 - One dance won't kill you . . . or will it?

- WOLFE -

I fucking hate clubs.

Genuine hate. The awful, talentless club music and general noise of drunk people. The flashing lights in the darkness. The smell of sweat and booze and makeup and an equal combination of very cheap and very expensive cologne and perfume. The endless sea of half-naked drunk people with nothing better to do than waste all their cash on overpriced drinks and a night they won't remember in the morning.

Can. Not. Stand. It.

Give me a sea of stars overhead to light things up, the smells and sounds of gum leaves and twigs crackling in the fire, and someone I actually know and like beside me as company, talking at an appropriate decibel level that doesn't necessitate earplugs, and I'm golden.

This is actual fucking torture. Made worse by the fact I haven't slept in days, that I've been on the road basically since dawn, I still haven't had a bloody shower, and I'm probably the only sober person in this place.

The only reason why I'm here is because Luna is skunk-level drunk already and clearly in a fowl and impressionable mood that I wouldn't trust her not to get herself into trouble, and I'd feel guilty to Dalen if I didn't look out for her. It's what he would be doing if he were still here . . .

Now, somehow, I've ended up trying to have a conversation with Nella's husband—Jason, I think his name is, though it was hard to hear Nella when she introduced us—while Luna's sister is working hard at trying to get me to dance with her, which is just not going to happen, no matter how many times she grinds her ass over my dick like that, or grabs my hands and places them on her swaying hips.

Not. Going. To. Happen.

Wolfe Prescott does not dance. Period.

"So, how have you been dealing with Luna so far, Wolfe?" Nella's Hubby asked the side of my head, leaning in to make sure I heard him. I really wish Nella had done the same before when she introduced us so I didn't have to refer to him as 'Nella's Hubby' in my head because I was sure his name wasn't actually Jason like I thought I had heard. "Nell said Luna was going pretty hard on you. Don't take it personally, mate. She does that with new people." He laughed nervously before adding, "Actually, she's just like that with everyone."

Well, that's slightly reassuring. Here I was thinking it was just me who Luna reserved her contempt for. Jesus Christ, that woman is something else. I've never met anyone who detested me so instantly like Luna does. I just wish she did it without wearing those sexy as fuck clothes. That damn second skin-looking green dress makes me want to rip it off her and have her up against these likely cum-stained walls just to get inside her. I was so grateful she cracked the shits and stormed out her front door because any longer with her that close to me wearing that would have made the inside of my jeans similarly tainted like these club walls.

"It's been an interesting few hours, that's for sure," I smiled, not intentionally thinking of Luna's cleavage in my face or pressed against my chest, but letting my mind go there nonetheless. "Have you heard anything from Nella about Luna?"

I can't believe she walked off and refused to get in my car, though I got the impression that was more to do with Siella calling her Luney Tune than anything I did. Even I'm not stupid enough to call her by Dalen's nickname at a time like this. Still, she didn't have to be so damn inexorable as to not get in the car and let me help her get where she wanted to go. Her rigid tenacity in being independent was so exhausting that I continued driving, urged on by her own sister in the passenger seat claiming she would be fine on her own.

I've been on high alert scanning the room for her ever since, and was only reassured that she would actually be fine by Nella, who seemed reasonably sober and went to wait for Luna outside.