by Lynch, H. G.
save yourself
H.G. Lynch
This Book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
©Text Copyright 2014 H.G. Lynch
Edited by CLS Editing
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious and are products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual events, or locales or persons, living or dead are entirely coincidental.
Other Books by H.G. Lynch
Unfortunate Blood Series:
Born Dark
Wicked Secrets
Ghostly Shadows
Caged Trilogy:
Run
Stand-alone Novels:
Insane
Radioactive
Chapter One
** Brogan **
The Hunger was roaring, a savage beast inside me, demanding to be fed with the blood and the Lust of others, a predator starving for the sweet flesh of humans in more ways than one. Even if I had wanted to resist, I had no choice but to obey that feral animal inside—but I didn’t want to resist anyway. I enjoyed the delectable dark energy, the delicious adrenaline rush, the tempting thrill of the hunt.
The club place was my favourite hunting ground. There, I was swimming in fine prey, all writhing with life and Lust, pouring sweat and pounding pulses. It was a hot, intoxicating miasma of throbbing energies and dark desires. All I had to do was pick one, as easy as plucking ripe, juicy fruit off a branch.
I slid silently amongst them, between sticky leather and twisting hips, through a sea of slick limbs, perfumed flesh and grasping fingers. Hard metal music screamed through the speakers, a heart-racing din of fury and crashing instruments, fuelling the wild craving of the crowd.
Not for the first time, I thought there was a predator inside them all. Every single human, from the studious girl in the library, who secretly longed to be ravished madly, to the balding businessman with a wife and two kids, who dreamed of ripping his boss’s throat out with his bare hands. Everyone had an animal inside them that they kept chained and caged during the week, and then the weekend arrived, and that place was where they came to let out the beast.
I, the eternal predator, who never dared to cage his own primal side, could have my pick of the herd.
I had spotted the one I wanted. Across the club, half-hidden in the shadows between the electric, flashing lights. She was leaning against the wall, watching the gyrating forms of her fellow mortals as if she were disgusted by their lack of inhibition, as if she was any different from them just because she wasn’t taking part in the ritual grinding and dry humping.
Clearly, her animal side was still locked up inside her, and I wanted to be the one to unleash it.
** Kester **
My eyes slid over the crowd of gasping, groping creatures I was somewhat ashamed to admit were my own species, and yet more ashamed to confess that some of them were my friends. I hated places like that for the simple, reason that I didn’t get a kick from being crammed in with a bunch of strange guys—and girls—who were constantly trying to feel me up.
But my best friend, Evie—don’t ever call her Evelyn—had insisted I come with her to meet her new boyfriend, who apparently hung out there a lot. Because I was an awesome friend, I’d went along, despite knowing I’d loathe every minute of it. I would have preferred to be at home, finishing off the last of the stack of horror novels I’d bought the prior week.
Evie was currently somewhere in the horny throng of people decked out in black leather, studs and eyeliner. No doubt grinding with her new boyfriend, who, as it turned out, was called James, and actually wasn’t half as creepy as I’d expected. He was pretty decent looking, for a guy with a labret piercing and wearing more eyeliner than I was, and he was kind of funny.
Also in amongst the crowd was my other best friend, Zack, who I had begged into coming with me, so I wouldn’t be left alone while Evie danced with her boy toy. Unfortunately, he’d been stolen away by some girl with a nose ring, black streaked hair, and a little too much cleavage spilling out of her tight-laced, gothic corset.
So, there I was, left alone to sulk in the corner. The club itself was cool—it was a Goth club called Grimshade. It was fairly new in town, and the music was bitchin’, but I was happier to hide in the shadows than to be out there on the dance floor. At least there, I could actually breathe, and by staying against a wall, I could protect my backside from sneak gropings. Several guys had already asked me to dance with them—a couple had just stared at my tits as they passed. One had actually tried to grab a swift feel before I’d planted one of my kick ass Doc Martens in his nuts. He’d left pretty fast after that. Well, as fast as he could with a limp.
That had been a while ago, and no more guys had tried to hit on me since. I assumed he may have warned his buddies not to go near the crazy lass in the corner. I smirked to myself a little. Maybe the place wasn’t so bad after all. I always enjoyed a little surprise violence on a Friday night.
As I scanned the sweaty faces of the dancers in the brief flares of coloured light from the strobes, searching for some sign of Evie or Zack, I spotted something else that made me think I might get another chance to put my boots to some ass kicking.
At my ten o’clock, there was a guy slipping through the crowd directly toward me. I only caught a glimpse of his face in the flashing lights, and all I could make out was dark hair and the glint of a piercing—like just about everyone else in the club. I was the only blonde in sight, though that wasn’t really unusual.
Most of the people I hung out with dyed their hair jet black or erratic colours, or shaved it all off and got their scalp tattooed. While I thought those looks were cool, I preferred to be a little bit tamer. I had a single streak of black in my fringe that swept across my forehead, and a small tattoo of snake that wrapped around my left ankle. Aside from my black chains-and-buckles clothing, and dramatic black-and-silver eye make-up, that was pretty much it. Like I said, tame.
I sensed someone standing very close to me, and I looked up, surprised to see the guy who’d been coming my way was already in front of me. In a bolt of coloured lightning, I saw messy jet-black hair, a straight nose, sharp cheekbones, and a sculpted mouth. A silver eyebrow bar glimmered in one brow over shockingly bright heather coloured eyes—contacts, undoubtedly, or maybe a trick of the coloured lights. Nobody had eyes that colour naturally, that shade of dark granite purple. It was striking.
In fact, all of him was rather striking, including the dark red shirt and black skull print waistcoat he was wearing. No eyeliner. No bizarre facial tats. Definitely the best looking guy there, and he was standing in front of me.
Don’t get me wrong, I know I’m not bad to look at. I looked especially hot, in my skin-tight black jeans, with a hanging chain belt and figure-hugging, black, V-neck t-shirt with the words “Fuck You” printed in bold silver letters across my chest. I looked damn good, but I wasn’t one of the girls giving him sultry, please-touch-me looks and suggestively rocking my hips on the dance floor. Even a couple of the guys were staring at him, just in case he happened to swing both ways.
I tried to look uninterested as the guy slowly perused my body. He was standing less than a foot in front of me, too close for my personal comfort, especially considering how tall he was—at least six foot two, towering over my five foot four. Judging by the way the sleeves of his shirt bulged when he shoved his hands casually in his jeans pockets, he was also
well muscled. Definitely sex-on-legs, but I wasn’t interested in one-night stands.
The last guy I slept with had also happened to be my first, and now he was my ex, off shagging some other girl with bigger boobs and a lower IQ than me. I no longer cared, I really didn’t. He was a tosser anyway. Still, I didn’t do one-nighters. Evie said I was uptight—I called it self-respect.
Zack always joked I was secretly saving myself for him. We’d dated once, after I’d broken up with the tosser, but it hadn’t felt right for either of us. We’d both agreed to stay just friends, but I was sort of glad we’d tried it at least. I’d been curious for a while about him about the possibility of us. I’d discovered two we just didn’t have the chemistry, and he was a hell of a kisser, chemistry or no. If he was half as good in bed, it explained why he had a list of girls—and guys—on his speed dial that were eager for a second helping. He liked to play both teams.
“Nice shirt.”
I blinked, brought out of my thoughts. I looked up at the hot guy in front of me and saw one corner of his mouth was curling in a smirk as he looked at my chest.
I folded my arms and tilted my chin. “Maybe you should take the hint,” I suggested in a bored tone.
His mouth twitched, and those amazing eyes flicked up to mine. There was an intensity in them that was completely at odds with his relaxed pose and vague expression. It was like staring into the heart of a storm. I froze, transfixed by his piercing stare. My heart sped up, and my pulse was suddenly pounding in my throat. His gaze skimmed down my face to my lips, stopped there for a beat, then slid to my neck. His lips parted, and the tip of his tongue came out to lick them…slowly.
I watched, fascinated. A flush crawled up my cheeks, and something stirred low in my gut, an irrational toe-curling sensation. Christ, I thought, startled by my own reaction. All he’d done was look at me, for God’s sake, and I was half-ready to jump him. He’d only said two freakin’ words, and yet, I was imagining him groaning my name. I blinked. What the hell?
Hot Guy leaned closer, and over the fog of sweat and pheromones, I smelled something thick and woodsy, a scent of something wild and fresh, like an enticing aftershave. He spoke softly, but I heard him clearly over the shrieking music and manic laughter.
“Dance with me.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a command, and while I usually loathed to be bossed around, I was helpless against the power of his rough voice.
So when he reached for my hand, I let him take it. I folded my fingers in his long ones and allowed him to tow me through the bubbling crowd into the centre of the dance floor. The music was even louder there, the air thicker and hotter, and I could feel myself starting to sweat already. Hot Guy released my hand and stepped back, looking down at me from under thick, dark lashes with a small smirk curling his lush lips as if waiting for me to give him a show.
Stirred by the challenge on his face, I raised my hands in the air and began swaying my hips to the beat. Getting into a groove, I tipped my head back, closed my eyes and let my hair fall over my shoulders, drawing my hands down my sides to my swinging hips. Feeling bold, I winked at Hot Guy, daring him to come closer and join me.
He took the dare.
He stepped forward and grabbed me by the shoulders, spinning me roughly around and pulling me against him so my back was plastered to his chest. His hands settled on my waist, and I felt a thrill of excitement at the feeling of his strong hands gripping me. Behind me, he started moving, forcing me to move with him. Drowning in the music and the smell of him, the feel of him against me, I reached my arms back to hook around his neck and began swaying my hips again, grinding against him. He growled softly in my ear, his breath hot against my neck, the graze of his teeth against my skin threatening to turn me to a molten puddle at his feet.
My heart pounded, sweat stuck strands of my hair to my shoulder blades and the back of my neck, and I let the rush wash me away. Hot Guy rocked his hips into me, his hands slipping underneath my shirt, his fingertips tracing my ribs until I felt breathless. I was barely aware of the crowd dancing around us anymore as he became familiar with my body, one hand sliding up over my breast to where my heart beat wildly against my skin. His other hand stayed where it was for a moment, his thumb circling my navel, before moving down, down to my waistband. I gasped, curling my fingers into the thick hair at the back of his head as he slid his hand into my jeans, and my body ignited in a hail of sparks and sensations.
Part of my brain was screaming at me. I didn’t normally do that kind of thing, not in public, but the other part of me didn’t care. It had been over a year since I had been with anyone, since I’d broken up with the tosser, and god, I wanted him. I needed it.
So I let him touch me through my lace panties, awakening things in me that I hadn’t felt in far too long. Soon, I was gasping, writhing against him, my lips parted with my ragged breathing. Sweat made my shirt cling to my back, and I could feel his mouth moving on my neck, teasing little kisses. I tilted my head to give him better access and felt him smile in response. I suspected that wasn’t his belt buckle I felt against my spine.
I could feel myself tensing, ready for the end, and that was when he removed his hand from my jeans. I almost snarled in frustration, breathing hard, clutching handfuls of his hair as my knees wobbled. I tipped my head right back to glare up at him and growled, “You bastard.”
He laughed, flashing white teeth in a panty-dropping smile. The sound of his chuckles rumbled through his chest against my back, and I pulled away from him, slowly becoming aware of what I’d been letting him do to me—in the middle of a club packed with people. My face heated, and I glanced around nervously. It didn’t look as if anyone had noticed, and anyway, half the other couples on the floor were doing the same, if not more.
“Hey, Kez!”
A voice shouted to me from somewhere, and I whipped my head around to the left. Zack was waving wildly with one arm in the air, elbowing his way through the throng with the other. His hair, dyed bright blue, was a mass of spikes, some of them slightly crushed as if someone had run their hands through it—probably the girl he’d gone off to dance with. He raced toward me, completely ignoring the tall, dark stranger I’d been grinding on moments before.
I glanced up at said stranger, but he was no longer there. Surprised, I glanced around and spotted him slinking away into the crowd in the opposite direction of Zack. As if sensing my stare, he turned back and his eyes locked on mine once more. His lips curled. The bar in his eyebrow flashed as he winked. Then he was gone, disappearing into the crowd as easily as a shadow.
Zack suddenly grabbed my arm. “Hey, Kester, who was that?” he asked, slightly out of breath.
There was a shimmer of sweat on his forehead, and there was a red smudge on his neck that I could only guess was lipstick. His blue eyes examined me keenly while he waited impatiently for my answer.
His question rattled in my brain. Who was that? Yes, that was a good question. Who was that mysterious, sexy guy who could make me want to lose all sense of self-respect, just by looking at me?
I had no answer. I hadn’t even bothered to get his name before I let him…oh god. What is wrong with me tonight?
Hiding my self-mortification, I shrugged at Zack. “Just some guy looking for an easy ride.”
Zack’s eyes narrowed. “You looked for a minute there like you might give him it,” he observed. The ring in his lip twitched as he spoke.
I glared at him and pointed one silver-painted nail at my chest. “Read the shirt.”
He laughed and slung his arm around my shoulders. “Come on. Let’s go find Evie. I’ll give you both a lift home.”
Chapter Two
**Brogan **
As I watched the girl, Kester, leave the club with the blue-haired, Emo guy and another chick, I was vaguely disappointed we’d been interrupted before I could ask her back to my place to continue what we were doing. With the scent of her intoxicating Lust still burning in my nose, teasing the H
unger and making my head spin, I was unable to shake the arousal tightening my jeans. However, I knew it wouldn’t take me long to find another girl to take care of it. True to form, I was leaving the club fifteen minutes later with a violet-haired bombshell named Ariel, Ariella or something like that.
She was hot, but her Lust didn’t smell nearly as delectable as Kester’s. Still, she was giggly and flirty, just drunk enough to be eager, but not so drunk she’d wake up the next day wondering what the fuck she’d done the night before. I didn’t normally care how drunk they were, or what they were high on, but I felt like getting with someone who’d remember my name for days after she screamed it in ecstasy.
We took a taxi back to my place—I had a motorbike parked on the same street as the club, but I didn’t want to risk her falling off the damn thing. Unfortunately, it was a shitty part of town, so while we were in the cab, I called my roommate, who also happened to be a bouncer at the club, to tell him to take my bike home with him. He had the key anyway because I always gave him it before I entered the club, just in case some fucktard decided to lift it off me while I wasn’t paying attention. I’d learned that lesson the hard way.
By the time we made it back to my place, Ariella had undone my jeans button and lost her bra somewhere on the floor of the cab. I tossed some cash at the driver and helped the girl out, stumbling into the seedy block of flats I called home. The lobby smelled like piss and puke, as always. The tacky linoleum flooring was rotting away, and the mustard-coloured walls were tainted by mould and water damage. Ariel or Ariella, whatever, didn’t even notice. She was too intent on trying to shove her tongue in my mouth. That was okay, though. Hopefully, it meant she wouldn’t know where to come back to find me after I kicked her ass out the next morning.
