Hunger (Damnation Book 1)

Chapter 1 - Prey

Bass pounds through the system making my blood pump and a tremor of excitement courses through me. With closed eyes, I raise my arms above my head, my fingers reaching for Heaven. The club scene is hot. It is the epitome of tribal nature in here. The music is loud; people are writhing and dancing to the beats, their hearts and their bodies on display.

Somehow, through the throng of people around me, I feel hands on my hips as they sway with the hard hitting beat. The air around us is heavy with desire and need. The smoke machines and the masses of bodies pressed together so tightly make the air warm and I can't stop the slight sheen of sweat covering my skin. Fingers dig into my skin below my black crop top before moving down my body to my matching high-waist shorts. I can feel the heat of him at my back. I lean back pressing myself against his body.

I love the touch. I need the touch. His rough jeans scratch at the bare skin of my legs. His breath is hot against the back of my neck. The mass of barely controllable fiery curls that I call my hair, which I'd thrown in a ponytail hours ago, blocks my view of my dance partner. Well, that and the smoke and laser lights of the club. At first, I don't care, I pull energy from him as we move. I love to dance, but soon I need to know who is dancing with me. Turning, I see Chase Adams staring at the generous amount of skin I have on display. His muddy, hazel eyes meet my bright green ones as I press against him.

Chase Adams is one of the hottest guys at my school. No one ever mentions he's also a gigantic prick. He's got this reputation for being this big man on campus with an enormous ego to match. He is the quarterback of the football team and captain of the soccer team. He's very involved in sports and school organizations, but I know it's just for college applications like the majority of kids at our school. I don't think he gives a damn about being a part of the Model UN we have on campus and I know for sure he could care less about the Chastity Club. It couldn't be any more obvious with the way he is looking me up and down and the way his hands are roaming. Plus, despite being a member of the Chastity Club, he has a reputation for his adventures in the bedroom.

It doesn't matter to me what his reputation is; I just want some fun tonight, maybe something a little bit more. He could be the biggest prick in the world and I wouldn't care right now. I feel drunk on the desire he's practically shoving at me. It's as if I can see it floating towards me on the smoke filled air.

We dance for what feels like hours, our bodies blending together, with such little space between us. I get light headed from how close we are and I can feel how much he wants me in the air surrounding us. The way he dances is magic. We dance until the wee hours of the night, enjoying each other's company, before the club gets full of sloppy drunks.

"Need a ride?" he yells over the music. His fingers run along the bare skin of my stomach and back.

I flash him a killer smile and nod. Neither of us is technically old enough to be here, but if you're hot enough or have the right amount of money, you can get anything you want here in the Big Easy. Plus, fake ID's come in very handy. No self-respecting delinquent goes anywhere without one.

We walk out onto Bourbon Street into the masses of tourists and townies on our way to his motorcycle. We pass a little bit of everything. There are club kids in their outrageous outfits, drunks, stoners, and veiled bachelorettes along with some drunken bachelors. The lack of inhibitions that Bourbon Street is famous for seeps into us and we have to make constant stops to allow for kisses, touches, and massive amounts of flirting. It builds anticipation for something neither of us is ready to speak into words yet. Something in me tightens in excitement as we approach the side street he parked on. Seriously, motorcycles are hot, loud, and exhilarating. What's not to love?

Along the way, we see a preacher man giving his spiel right in the middle of the street and he stops us. In New Orleans, there are always going to be people protesting something or the other. Usually it's God's unhappiness with the world and this city of sin. That's a very popular cause to protest here. People call Las Vegas the city of sin but New Orleans is just as bad. Personally, I think it's worse.

"Repent and let the Lord Jesus Christ save your souls," he yells over the crowds, holding his bible high into the air like a sword. I suppose it would be his weapon of choice.

"Want to get saved?" Chase jokes, his fingers tracing a small sliver of exposed skin on my side. I can't help but shiver in response. I love that he can't keep his hands off of me.

Saying it loud enough for the preacher to hear me, I answer, "Nope, I already know there's a God and he's no fun."

Preacher man turns, ready to defend Him, but he recoils at the sight of me. He must really be a man of the cloth; otherwise he wouldn't be able to tell the difference between me and Chase. His reaction is comical. "Son, get away from her," he warns Chase. "She is the spawn of Satan himself."

There is a moment of pause before we burst into laughter. Like Chase would even listen to him at this point with my claws into him. I can hear him spouting his warnings as we turn away but neither of us are paying attention anymore. As we walk away, I wrap my arms around his lean muscles. He's hot, without question, even if he doesn't have much going on upstairs, but it's not the upstairs I'm interested in. We finally make it to his motorcycle and he helps me climb on. My hands drift under his shirt and I let my fingernails graze his taut skin. Chase clears his throat before he revs the engine and away we go into the night.

I let the wind blow my hair back as he drives me to my home in the Garden District. We go so fast; I know he's speeding but I don't care. The thrill of the ride is making my skin tingle with excitement. I feel like if I let go, I'd fly away. He doesn't have helmets, but I'm not surprised. He isn't the kind of guy to be safe and follow the law. Just to tease him a little more, I kiss his neck just above his collar. I love the way his body shivers under my touch. When we reach the house, I punch in the code and he pulls round to the front. Our house is a lot like the White House; the driveway in the back and the front is all lit up. It even comes with the bonus of super beefy security.

Chase kills the engine and turns around. "So, should I stay away? Are you dangerous?" he asks.

"Do you want to stay away from me?" I ask back dragging my perfectly manicured red nails down his arms causing goose-flesh to pop up. I lean in so there is hardly a breath between us. The adrenaline of the night is flowing through me and I feel my blood in singing in my veins.

"Nothing could keep me away, baby."

I cringe inwardly at the very overly used pet name but instead I kiss the side of his neck, purposefully leaving a lipstick stain on his skin, and I start up the steps to go inside.

"What? No invite?" he calls to me, leaning against his bike, making no move to leave. This might be easier than I thought it would be.

I turn around and cross my arms across my chest. "Do you want one?"

He nods.

"How much?" I taunt softly, leaning forward like I'm not quite ready to leave him behind.

"I'd give anything."

"Anything?"

He nods again. "What's would it take?" he asks.

"For me? For how long?" I ask heading back down the steps I had just walked up.

"As long as I can. What do I need to do?" he repeats, grabbing my hips and tugging me so I fit neatly in between his legs.

"Sell me your soul," I say softly, my lips brushing the corner of his lips. I play with the collar of his button up shirt, pulling it gently so he is drawn even closer to me.

"For even a night with you? Deal," he replies with laughter in his voice. He gives me a deep kiss that sends electricity from my lips down to my toes. I sigh, knowing I will soon figure out if all the rumors about him are true. Taking his hand, we walk up the steps and I open the front door. The house is lit up with warm lighting giving off the feelings of a low fire's glow even though it's nearly three in the morning. This house is never truly asleep and very rarely inviting, even to me. Someone is always awake and scheming. This warm feeling of home is a complete lie. We walk inside, with Chase trying to reach a whole new world inside my top, to find the light coming from my father's study.

"Mr. Adams, if you would join me. Please," we hear from the open door.

Chase turns to me with a questioning look. "My dad," I tell him, extracting myself from his grip. "We better not keep him waiting."

I mean, after all, he is the devil.