by Alexa Riley
Slightly embarrassed, I pretended to not comprehend. “No one was staring at me.”
Felicity gasped. “That was Axel Rye! You two were staring at each other. The man was actually giving you the time of day. You guys had direct eye contact. I saw it!”
“No, we weren’t,” I lied. I could hardly breathe now because of that brief moment, but I didn’t want to admit it. And the reality is that if Axel Rye was really staring at me, it was because I clearly was out of place. I was the square peg and he knew it. I was Waldo and he had simply spotted me. Nothing more.
“Look at you! Say whatever you want, but I see it. You’ve been here one night and you’re already making headway. Leave it to you to find the most fucked up, yet sexiest man in this room. I knew you’d fit in just fine.” Felicity took a large swig of her drink. “Let’s go out there and show them what we got.”
She grabbed me by the arm and pulled me onto the dance floor before I could object.
AXEL
I MADE my way to the VIP section of the club. My head pounded as the techno music pulsated in my ringing ears. My veins still burned from the dirty heroine I shot up last night. The only good that came from that fucked up incident was I made the decision I was done with H forever. Fuck that shit. I had lost too many friends to that drug, and I definitely didn’t want to be some homeless junkie, fucking whatever dealer I could for a chance to share a disease-infested needle. Things in my life were spiraling out of control enough as it was, and I didn’t need to add heroine junkie to the list. No more needles.
I wasn’t in the mood to be at Wicked or any club at all. It was the second time this week for this club, but the fourth time being out on a request by owner. Even the line of coke I snorted before entering the club wasn’t helping my mood of feeling forced like a god damned prisoner to be there. Request by owner meant I got paid for even walking through the doors. Treated like fucking royalty all because I walked on the dark side and played the sick game. I only mingled, shook hands and gave false hugs to strangers because I got paid to do it.
I got paid a lot.
Unlike my father who was famous for his music, I was famous for one thing: I was a drug dealer. Always having a constant supply of good shit caused me to be in high demand at every bar, club, and trendy restaurant in town. What once used to be very secretive, behind-closed-doors, and hush-hush had recently become very visible. There was no secret I dealt. After my last arrest and the media circus around my hearing, when it came to trendy drugs for the rich, the famous, and the cool kids, I was seen as the face of it. Media took hold of the idea, and the rest spiraled out of control. Being a bad boy was hot, and I was about as bad as they got right now. It was fucking nuts.
I nodded to and acknowledged all the club-goers gazing my way. Some of the other guys I hung with were already doing shots, popping pills, snorting lines and beginning the party. I was high, but not nearly as high as they were. My entourage kept the energy to the extreme, the fun flowing, and the night alive until the wee hours. They earned every penny the nightclub paid them. Me, on the other hand… I had the charm. I had the reputation. And I had the name of Axel Rye. Rye was notorious. My charisma and lure worked its magic as usual tonight, although my smile was anything but genuine. The odd popularity had stopped making me uncomfortable a long time ago, especially among drunk women throwing themselves at me, but I would never get used to everyone wanting to buy drugs. The hunger in their veins made them beg for more, and they would pay whatever price I set for it. I had full control of them, like a demonic puppet master. They were all nothing but junkies in fancy clothes. I hated it.
Although it was once nice to have instant notoriety the minute I walked into a room, now I resented having to always be the life of the party. I had the looks, the right aura, the status, and everyone wanted to be a part of it. I definitely could be an arrogant asshole. But somewhere along the line, that shit got old. My life was a damn sick joke, and I had no one to blame but myself. I never knew who truly wanted to be around me for me, and who just wanted the limelight or the access to cheap or even free drugs. I learned to trust nobody. Hell… I didn’t even trust myself.
Lost in my thoughts and wanting a moment for myself, I made my way towards the dance floor. I hated to dance, but I didn’t really mind the music. Blocking out everyone around me, I closed my eyes and just leaned up against a pillar near the crush of swaying bodies but not among them, taking in the beat of the music. The heat of the room and the close proximity of bodies caused sweat to trickle down my back. I slightly bobbed my head to the beat, enjoying the isolation the rhythm of the bass gave me. Being the son of a rock star, I grew up to appreciate the skill of a musician. It had always disappointed my father I never followed in his footsteps. Not that the bastard ever spent a minute trying to teach me how to play the guitar or sing a note. No, he was too busy touring the world and being the famous Jamison Rye. And my mother was too busy being a socialite to even remember she had a son. I had dabbled in being a DJ, and my name alone sold out any venue I spun at. Clubs all around the world wanted me. But the truth of the matter was, I sucked at it. I couldn’t compete with the DJs I actually respected and even called my friends. I was man enough to admit it just wasn’t my gig. Not to mention I made a hell of a lot more money selling for an hour than I did spinning for one.
Someone brushed right past me, a little too close.
Motherfucking groupie. They were all the same. Accidently knocking into me. Accidently getting my attention. All until I gave them the time of day, and then they purposely became an annoying gnat I wouldn’t be able to shake for the rest of the night. It always ended with them wanting to blow me for some drugs.
Blow for some blow. Story of my life.
Annoyed, I took a soothing breath when I realized the person who bumped into me was the same girl who’d caught my attention at the bar. I hadn’t seen her before—not that I recognized all the chicks in every nightclub. But this one stood out to me. She seemed different. She was gorgeous, but not in the fake—I’ve spent two hours on my make-up and hair—type of gorgeous like most of the women in Wicked. No, this girl was your typical girl-next-door-type of gal, clearly lost in a dark and dank place like this.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to knock into you. Did I hurt you?” By her awkward stance, and the embarrassment washing over her face, I could tell she really hadn’t meant to bump into me. She couldn’t even hold my gaze for more than a few moments before her gaze slid away.
“No, I’m good.” I swiped at my hair that now lay limply against my forehead. I found it odd that I suddenly felt self-conscious about my appearance, but I didn’t want her to think I was a sweaty junkie lowlife.
“You sure you’re okay?” the girl asked again.
This time, she held my gaze, the concern showing in hers. I looked into her deep brown eyes for the first time—clear and not dilated like every other girl in the club—and my heart beat hard against my chest. The laser lights swirled behind the girl, casting her in full light one second and in a shadow the next. I smiled at her petite silhouette. Every time her face lit up, I noticed her eyes first. They were an amazing rich chocolate color, unlike anything I had ever seen. They matched perfectly with her dark brown hair that reflected all the colored lights around her. Thick, full eyelashes curved slightly at the end, providing the perfect frames for such a pair of beautiful eyes. She was a true beauty. The girl stared back at me as she stood there breathing hard.
Her brown hair was up in a loose bun, except for a few strands that lightly rested on the sides of her face and forehead. It surprised me she didn’t seem fazed by my notoriety. Almost as if she didn’t know who I was, which would be impossible unless she lived under a rock. You couldn’t go onto social media or turn on the television and not see my face plastered all over it. She acted genuinely sorry for knocking into me. It didn’t seem like she had done it intentionally, like the game so many others had played in the past. That game had gotten really old.
“I’m fine,” I said, wishing I hadn’t done the coke. My head spun, and the lights swirling around her weren’t helping the situation. I was too high to have this conversation, but I really wanted to. But she was sober and I was not, which was always a recipe for disaster.
“Good.” The girl tucked the loose hair behind her ear and turned to resume her dancing. She didn’t look back or ask anything else. She seemed impatient to be on her way. I watched in fascination as she seductively moved her hips to the music.
With my heart pounding and the overpowering need to see her face again surging, to my own surprise, I tapped her on the shoulder and stammered, “So, I haven’t seen you here before.”
Fuck! I was too high for this shit. I was sounding like a dumb ass.
The girl turned and looked at me without responding. Maybe she hadn’t heard me. I hoped her lack of words weren’t just because she thought I was an idiot. Although I sounded like a fucking idiot.
“I’m Axel, what’s your name?” Trying to keep my cool was as difficult as walking under water.
“Quinn Sullivan.”
All I could manage was a weak smile as I allowed the most alluring name I had ever heard to descend into my soul. High or not, I liked her name. It seemed to fit her perfectly.
“Well, have a good night,” Quinn said, and danced off, fading into the crowd of bodies. She was leaving me, and I really didn’t have a choice but to let her.
Why did I care?
But I did.
I did care.
I reluctantly made my way back to the VIP section to join my friends as my thoughts went back to those brown eyes cloaked in black lashes. Quinn Sullivan and the enticing eyes.
Yeah, I was fucking high.
CHAPTER TWO
KNIGHT IN FUCKED UP ARMOR
QUINN
I DANCED OFF, concentrating on trying to be as graceful as possible as I walked back to the bar where Felicity was ordering another drink. I had a feeling Axel was still watching me, and I would die of embarrassment if I fell or stumbled. My awkward nerves were out of control. How could I almost knock the man over? Of all people, it had to be the famous, and sexy as hell Axel Rye. I should’ve said more to him, but I’d been at a loss for words, and thoughts. All I could do was gawk at him like a crazed fan or druggy. I was positive he thought I did it on purpose. He probably expected for me to ask to buy some drugs or take a selfie with him to show off online.
My knees had almost buckled when I realized who I had accidentally danced into. I had no business dancing. I seriously sucked ass at it, and all but appeared to be having a seizure on the dance floor. But leave it to me to dance into Axel Rye! I was so lame.
I had researched all about the great Axel Rye and his drug-dealing clan. Felicity partied at the same hot spots as they did. She desperately wanted to be let into their popular social circle. I had never really grasped everything Felicity told me about Axel and his friends. She made them out to be movie star, drop-dead gorgeous, and after seeing them in person, I would have to agree. But the truth of the matter was what they did for a living was still against the law and wrong. How everyone looked up to them, and practically treated them as Gods surprised me. They were just drug dealers, though alluring ones at that.
Axel Rye was too gorgeous for his own good. My heart thumped wildly as I tried my best not to look over my shoulder to see if he was staring at me. I really wished I weren’t so attracted to that man. But how could I not be? With his messy dark, chestnut brown hair, sexy, mysterious eyes, and lean, muscular body, Axel was a walking vision. The ink of his tattoos beckoned my curiosity. Everything about him teased my senses—his looks, his raspy baritone voice, his tantalizing, sultry scent. And God help me, I was attracted to the fact that he was a bad boy. I shouldn’t be, but I was fascinated by it.
Making my way back to the bar, I looked over at the VIP section where Axel sat with a large group of men and women, most covered in tattoos, piercings, trendy clothes, and looking like the hippest stylist in LA had dressed them all. Axel and his friends seemed to glide in a lingering wave toward a group of girls. They had a mysticism in their actions. In the way they moved. Almost like vampires in a dark blockbuster movie. The women waited, their eager smiles reminding me of teenyboppers at a boy band concert.
Axel wore a tight black shirt that showed off his firm arms. Tattoos marked his entire exposed skin. His black pants clung to his body as if they were designed just for him. I had never seen a more seductive smile on a man. His masculine look screamed alpha. Rough, rugged, and at the same time, handsome. The scar by his mouth had an incredible draw, giving him a lure that pulled anyone in. I watched as one of the slinky-clad women practically lunged into Axel’s arms, smothering the man with her breasts, and then looked around nonchalantly to make sure everyone was watching.
“Is that Axel’s girlfriend?” I asked Felicity as I leaned over to speak into her ear to be heard over the booming cadence.
Felicity glanced over to where the woman hung off Axel and shook her head. “Only in her wildest dreams. That’s Jillian, one of the coke head sluts who clings to that group. She relentlessly tries to convince anyone who will listen that the two of them are a couple. Everyone knows Axel’s not interested in her. I’ve actually never seen Axel with a girlfriend. Not a playboy like you would expect though. He seems to keep to himself. Although, many would volunteer to fill that position in a heartbeat. Just look at him. Yummy.” Hopping off the stool, she said, “I’ll be right back. I’m going to the restroom.”
Hating being alone for even a minute, I took a small sip of the drink I had been nursing and just watched. The group of men Axel hung with seemed so experienced and composed. They laughed and flirted, but still appeared powerful and dominating, even though it was obvious they were drinking and snorting white powder right off the table. They were cool, in a dark and fucked up way. And all I could do was almost knock the most desired person in the room down, and then fumble my way through a hopeless conversation. Even looking at them made me feel unworthy.
Sitting at the bar watching the “cool kids” made me miss home, particularly holing up in my office writing. Maybe I shouldn’t have followed through with this crazy idea. Moving to LA and writing about something I knew absolutely nothing about. I wasn’t prepared to feel so inadequate.
If Harrison hadn’t talked me into this, I would be home with a glass of wine and a laptop as my only friend. Boring, maybe, but secure. I always listened to that man since he meant the world to me. He had become far more than just my editor. We’d been through so much over the years, last year especially when the nightmare of my sister’s death almost destroyed me. Losing someone I had loved so dearly had left me leaning on my best friend Harrison as he stood by my side. I didn’t really mind being alone with my words and my stories, but I appreciated having a friend who truly got me. Harrison understood my sheltered ways. He understood my past, and would stand by my side as we walked into the future… hopefully promoting a bestselling book. If I didn’t fuck it all up, that is.
When I decided to move to LA to work on this book idea, Harrison and I made a promise to keep in touch daily. I wanted to make sure he helped me stay on task and gave me the encouragement to do something completely out of my comfort zone. So far, since I had made the move, we talked and texted every day, and I had a rough outline on my story already under way. No matter how caught up I got in this partying lifestyle, and then afterward immersing myself in writing the book, I was determined to keep Harrison in my life forever, both professionally and personally. This would be our project, and not just mine.
My goal was to get the info needed and write an incredible story, with Harrison to help edit and polish it into perfection. He then would shop it and find a home for it since I was far from having a literary agent to do it for me. Harrison had a much better grasp of what needed to happen and who to contact than I did.
I already had months’ worth of research, mostly candid interviews
with men and women who did drugs, frequented the clubs every chance they had, and with people who worked it like the bartenders and security. Between those and all the social media research, I was close to reaching my goal. I could then get back to the way I preferred my life. Safe, sound, and predictable. Just the way I liked it. LA, this club, and Axel Rye were just stepping stones to a brighter future. If I could land anything with Axel Rye, I was golden. Maybe I was shooting too big. I had only bumped into the man, but if I could dig up anything at all, then my book was all but sold.
My thoughts were interrupted when I felt the warmth from a sweaty body press up against me. I fought the urge to roll my eyes as I attempted to move away. A man with short-cropped hair, lacking a masculine bone in his pathetic frame, reached over to grab my hand.
“You seem like you’re in a whole other world,” he flirted.
“Just thinking. Getting ready to leave, actually.”
He moved closer. “Do you want to go dance?”
I shook my head, not the least bit interested. “No, like I said, I’m getting ready to leave.”
“Do you want to leave together?” he asked. “I’m ready to get out of here, too. I have some good shit I scored earlier we can take back to my place.”
My eyes narrowed, and I leaned back as far away as I could from him. I had no desire to break it to him easy anymore. “I’m not interested. And I don’t do drugs. Sorry.”
The man leaned forward, and the stench of liquor on his breath overpowered my air space. “Well, then what are you doing in a place like this? Maybe you just need someone to show you what you’re missing.” He leaned in, and began putting his arms around my waist.
Feeling violated and disgusted all at the same time, I pushed him away. “I told you I’m not interested!”
