Provoking the Beast
POV: First Person.
Before I could even stumble back from the collision, an arm forged of absolute steel snapped around my waist. The iron-like limb hauled me flush against a wall of hard, unforgiving muscle. Through his carelessly unbuttoned white dress shirt, curling grey chest hair brushed against my bare skin. The massive man holding me captive exuded a terrifying, suffocating aura of supreme authority. I tilted my head back, my breath hitching in my bruised throat. Thick, distinguished greying hair swept back from his rugged face. Cold, calculating pale grey eyes looked down at me. They held nothing but pure disdain.
He didn't grant me the dignity of addressing me directly. He turned his head slightly toward a grim-faced man standing beside him.
“Who the fuck is this little tramp? Who allowed a juvenile whore into my Brawl club?”
The sheer audacity of his gravelly rumble sliced through the adrenaline flooding my veins. After surviving the rough, humiliating mauling back at the VIP table, being groped and treated like a piece of meat by Caleb and Hassan, my hackles rose in furious indignation. I kicked my legs out, shoving my hands against his immovable chest. His grip only tightened into a painful vice around my waist. I clutched desperately at the torn fabric of my lacy red dress. The broken spaghetti strap offered zero support, leaving my cleavage bare to the smoky club air and his piercing gaze.
“Can you let me go, you pervert?” I demanded imperiously.
My voice trembled slightly. His cold, mocking gaze raked leisurely over my disheveled mahogany curls, tracking down to my heaving chest. A ripple of dark amusement flashed in his eyes, but he treated my outrage like a buzzing fly. Ignoring my struggles entirely, he shifted his attention back to his heavily armed entourage, speaking as if my presence was a tedious nuisance.
“Little girl, it’s bedtime for you.”
Then, with casual cruelty, his massive hand swung down in a degrading arc. A sharp smack echoed over the thumping bass as he swatted my exposed behind. The stinging impact sent fresh humiliation burning through my veins like liquid fire. The surrounding muscle-bound guards erupted into a chorus of leery, mocking guffaws. Their predatory eyes devoured my ruined state. He dismissed me with a cruel, condescending sneer.
“Run along back to your Daddy, little girl and suck him off before bedtime.”
Humiliation incinerated my last shred of self-preservation. Blinding fury utterly eclipsed reason. With a feral cry, I hurled my body forward, raising my right hand high into the air. I slapped his scarred, granite-like cheek as hard as my strength allowed.
The sharp crack of flesh meeting flesh severed the noisy tension of our immediate circle. A dead silence fell over his guards.
Before I could even pull my stinging palm back, his massive hand snaked out with terrifying speed. His fingers clamped around my delicate wrist. With one brutal motion, he twisted my arm viciously behind my back. My shoulder joint screamed in agony. I let out a sharp cry, forced up onto my tiptoes in a futile attempt to relieve the tearing pressure. A flicker of genuine astonishment crossed his rugged features. It vanished rapidly, replaced by a storm of sheer, unadulterated ferocity.
“Ah, little girl. You should not have done that.”
His voice dropped to a vibrating, deadly bass. He kept my arm wrenched upward, paralyzing me with white-hot pain. He snapped his head toward his men, issuing a short order.
“Tell Thane I shall see him later.”
He jerked my struggling body against his side. With terrifying ease, he half-hauled, half-dragged me away from the pulsating dancefloor. A tight, impenetrable circle of armed guards instantly formed around us, shielding my humiliation from view. The terrified, raucous club crowd parted instantly. Drunken clubgoers shoved each other out of the way, stepping back like the Red Sea. They lowered their eyes to the floor, radiating absolute deference to this man. Cold panic finally pierced through my blinding anger. He wasn't just a bouncer. He was someone unfathomably, dangerously important.
My stilettos dragged uselessly against the sticky floorboards as he pulled me relentlessly forward. My lungs burned for oxygen.
“I… I am sorry…” I panted desperately.
He shot a burning, furious look over his broad shoulder, his pale eyes blazing.
“You don’t know sorry, little girl.”
The quiet murmur sent a deep, freezing dread settling into the pit of my belly. He forced me past heavy drapes and shoved me into a hidden, private elevator. The metal doors slid shut with a finalized clank, sealing us inside the claustrophobic cage. The contraption whisked us upward seamlessly, leaving the violent noise of the fight club behind. I breathed in shaky gasps, my arm still pinned relentlessly against my spine. I darted fearful glances at his blank-faced companions. They stared straight ahead, acting as if dragging a terrified girl away was just normal business.
The elevator dinged. We stepped out into an expansive upper corridor that screamed of old money. Plush, dark carpets swallowed our footsteps. Heavy wood paneling lined the walls, contrasting sharply with the raw basement below. He gave me no time to process the luxury. Dragging me mercilessly to the end of the hall, he stopped before a massive set of double oak doors. He shoved the handle down, yanked me inside a sprawling, opulent office, and slammed the heavy wood directly in his guards' faces.
With a powerful shove, he violently flung me away from him. I stumbled on my broken heels and crashed hard onto the rich carpet. The breath punched out of my lungs. I scrambled frantically to my feet, my chest heaving with every ragged intake of air. My ruined dress clung desperately to my curves. I glared at him defensively, waiting for his next move.
He ignored my outrage completely. Radiating arrogant indifference, he strode across the vast room toward a crystal liquor bar. The office was dominated by a huge walnut desk covered in art pieces and neat stacks of files. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
Suddenly, a loud commotion erupted in the corridor outside. Muffled shouts echoed through the thick wood.
Before Cassian could react, the heavy office doors flew open with a bang.
A vaguely familiar, stunningly beautiful blonde woman rushed headlong into the room. Her golden hair was styled in a sleek, tight bob. She wore a flimsy gown that left very little to the imagination. Her wide, frantic blue eyes swept the opulent office in a split second before locking onto my disheveled form. The apprehension on her flawless face twisted instantly into a mask of murderous fury.
“Darling, Cas baby, who is she!!!” she shrieked hysterically, curling her hands into claws as she flung her body violently toward me.