Page 14 of Hellebore

“I need to show off the outfit, girl.” She winks. “It’s packed!” she chirps, already opening my coat to inspect the outfit underneath. “And you look like you are on the hunt.”

“I am,” I wink, dark humor curling my purple lips. “Let’s go ruin someone’s night.”

The bouncer gives us a quick once-over and swings the door open. “Good evening, ladies.”

The second we step inside it’s another world, a world where Dracula would definitely feel right at home.

We walk down the short flight of stone stairs. Lucille tugs my coat off my shoulders with a grin. “I’m taking this.” She strides ahead to the coat check and every head turns to watch her. She’s gorgeous, magnetic, and the one who taught me how to embrace this dark side of myself instead of hiding it.

I wait for her, arms wrapped around my middle against the sudden blast of cold air. When she comes back we push through the heavy inner doors together.

The bass is so loud it vibrates straight through my combat boots and into my bones. Low crimson lights pulse across black stone walls and old dark wood beams. Smoke curls thick in the air, turning every movement into something slow and haunted. The scent of incense, spilled cocktails that look like blood, and warm bodies wraps around me instantly.

I feel the first real smile of the night tug at my purple lips.

“Let’s get a drink!” Lucille says, grabbing my arm. I let her pull me through the crowd toward the bar.

“Two Witches Blood, please!” she tells the bartender. The woman behind the counter, black lipstick, silver septum ring, gives a quick nod and starts pouring something dark red into two glasses.

Before the drinks even hit the bar, True Faith by New Order starts pulsing through the speakers.

And fuck the drinks.

I slip away from Lucille, weave between bodies, and find one of the tall high-top tables near the edge of the dance floor. I kick off the ground and climb up, combat boots thudding onto the wooden surface. The moment I’m standing above everyone, the music slams into me full force. My entire body connects to the rhythm. My brain finally, blissfully shuts the hell up.

I close my eyes for half a second, then open them and let the night take over.

Men are watching. Good. Let them.

One catches my attention hard. He’s leaning against the bar, drink in hand, wearing a faded band shirt under a worn leather jacket. Blond hair a little messy, sharp jaw, eyes locked on me and I feel my cheeks burn under the glitter, but I don’t look away. Instead I slow my movements, hips rolling deliberately, hands sliding down my waist, tracing the lace edge of my crop top. I smirk, trying to unlock every ounce of my seductive power, while my entire body is shaking.

He blinks. Once. Twice. Then his mouth twitches and the right side of lips curls up.

He’s hot. Not gonna lie, I’m usually not a blond type of girl, but for this one I could absolutely make an exception. Still… It's too early to pick. I did that with Luke and look how that disappointment turned out.

A hand wraps around my ankle. I glance down. Lucille is holding my drink up to me, one eyebrow raised in that absolute menace way she does so well. I take the glass, the cold condensation biting my fingers, and sip. The cocktail is sweet, smoky, and hits the back of my throat. I look back toward the bar for the blond guy.

He’s gone.

That’s disappointing.

Dragula by Rob Zombie crashes through the speakers next. The beat is perfect. Lucille climbs up behind me without asking, her body pressing close as we move together. Our long hair swings side to side with every headbang, black and dark cherry strands tangling in the red lights. We sing the lyrics at the top of our lungs, voices raw and laughing, not caring who hears.

For these few minutes the world narrows to nothing but the bass in my chest, the smoke curling around us, the heat of Lucille’s shoulder against mine, and the feeling of every eye in the club sliding over my skin.

I feel alive.

And for the first time in weeks, the tired, heavy version of me that’s been carrying around too much wine and too many mediocre nights finally shuts the fuck up and lets me dance.

We lose track of time completely.

The music keeps swallowing us whole until Lucille suddenly laughs and points toward the edge of the dance floor. A guy is signaling her, tall, dark hair, a smirk that says he’s been waiting all night. Cooper. He’s been trying to date her for six straight months, but Lucille loves making him chase. She talks to him constantly, sends him filthy pictures that keep him up at night, and still refuses to call it dating. She just enjoys watching him drool.

“Don’t wait for me!” she chuckles, already climbing down from the table with that wicked grin on her face.

“Have fun, babe!” I wave her off, blowing her a kiss. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

She disappears into the crowd.