A Devious Descent

PROLOGUE

200 years prior

“Please stop! I don’t know anything.” Beads of sweat roll down the seer’s forehead, dripping into his eyes. It stings, but there is nothing he can do about it. He can’t move. He can’t even blink. 

Struggling, he tries turning his head to the side, desperate to put some space between the sharp tip of the blade and his pupil. Gritting his teeth, he wills his fingers to open and release the dagger, but it’s no use. He is no match for Aradon’s mind control.  

“Don’t lie to me, Seer,” Aradon warns. Waving his hand, he forces the seer to plunge the blade deep into his eye.  

“No! No!” His screams drown out the sickening sound of his eyeball turning to liquid. “Desfara is coming,” he cries out. “Desfara is coming!”

Aradon gasps. His knees weaken, threatening to buckle, but he manages to keep himself upright. 

“Desfara? The Realm Eater?” His voice shakes. “That is but a farce. A tale told to young demons to make them behave.” 

Aradon waves a trembling hand, allowing the seer to open his fingers. The dagger falls to the cement floor with a clatter. 

Finally able to control his hands, the seer presses his palms to his mutilated eye socket to stop the bleeding. Rocking his body back and forth, he cries, “The prophecy is true, my lord.”

Aradon picks up the dagger and wipes the blood on his sleeve. “Tell me everything you know about the prophecy, and I will consider sparing your life.” 

Through labored breaths and shallow gasps, the seer speaks. “In the 21st century, a being, neither fully human nor demon, will be born with powers so great even the elders will bow in reverence. Possessing both light and darkness, healing or destroying with but a thought, the fate of the realms lies in their hands. Only through suffering will their true path be revealed.  Either chaos and ruin will descend upon us, or we will be spared by the light that saves us all.”

A wicked smile crosses Aradon’s face before morphing into a manic laugh. His sinister plan forms in the seer's mind, sending a fresh wave of panic down his spine. “Please, Lord Aradon, don’t do what you’re thinking,” the seer pleads between sobs. “The realms, as we know them, will be forever changed.”

“Precisely,” Aradon says, handing the blade back to the seer. “Now cut off your head.”

Aradon strolls from the cell, an evil grin glued to his face. He traces away, leaving nothing behind but a cloud of black smoke and the echo of screams bouncing off the stone prison walls.  

CHAPTER 1

Frankie

 “Nathaniel! Turn that shit off!” Throwing on my old ratty robe, I stomp to my brother’s bedroom and pound on the door. I have half an hour before I need to get ready for work, and I fully intend on spending that time dreaming of Bradley Cooper.

“I’m serious, Nate! I will shove that stupid alarm clock up your ass if you don’t turn it off!” It’s probably hard to take my threat seriously when I say it through a yawn, but his alarm has been blaring for thirty minutes already, and I’m tempted to make good on it. He might be my only family and my most favorite person in the world, but I really want to throat-punch him right now.

I knock again. Nothing. Guess I’m going in. 

With shielded eyes, I burst through his door, preparing for anything I might interrupt. Last time I entered his bedroom uninvited, I found him licking whipped cream off some girl’s boobs whose name I’m sure he didn’t know. Nate looked up just as I tried making my escape. All I saw was a beard full of cool whip, making him resemble a perverted mall Santa. It almost would’ve been funny if he wasn’t my brother.  

Uncovering my eyes, I get ready to make a smartass remark but stand gaping when I realize I’m alone. Nate must’ve gone to work early and forgot to turn off his alarm. Why doesn’t he just use the one on his phone like everyone else?

Reaching for his alarm clock, I knock over one of the half empty Busch Light cans littering his nightstand. Stale beer spills over the cheap laminate surface.

“Shit!” I sigh, rushing to grab the stack of rolling papers before they get soaked, quickly shoving them in my pocket. I clean up the mess, noticing a generous amount of used paper towels by his bed. “Ugh, gross!” I mumble, pretending not to know what he used them for as I put an end to the incessant blaring of his alarm.

Shuffling across the hall, I return to my bedroom and set the rolling papers next to the jar of green buds on my bookshelf. Dino stares at me with one eye as I crawl back into bed. His other one popped off years ago. The pink, matted dinosaur has gotten me through some tough times as a kid. Pulling him close to my chest, I burrow underneath my sage green comforter. 

I try conjuring the image of Bradley Cooper, naked, confessing his love for me, but it’s useless after discovering Nate’s nasty cum rags. Thanks a lot, Nate, wherever you are.

Instead, I study the Devils Ivy hanging from the ceiling, trailing down both sides of my bed. The leaves are starting to droop a little, the edges slightly curling. I guess I should get up and water them. Throwing off my covers, I decide to bid farewell to Brad and start my day.

***

I load a variety of starter plants into the back of an old pickup truck before turning to Ms. Anderson. “Remember to plant these deep so you get more roots. Your tomatoes will thank you.”

She smiles at me. “Thanks for the tip, kiddo. You really know your stuff.”

My cheeks heat from her praise as I slam her tailgate shut. Ms. Anderson waves at me before driving away, eager to plant her garden. Returning her wave, I leisurely stroll back to the greenhouse, enjoying the warm sun on my face. 

Grass Roots Greenery is where I spend most of my time. I’ve worked here since I was sixteen, picking up extra shifts every chance I get. 

“That old bat get everything she was looking for?” Dave grunts. My grumpy old boss scares away all the customers with his sunshiny disposition. The man doesn’t have the patience to explain the difference between heirloom plants and hybrid ones. I don’t know why he thought working with the public was a good choice for him.

I roll my eyes. “Yes, Ms. Anderson got everything she was looking for. You really should start being nicer to the customers, Dave.”

“That’s your job,” he grumbles, walking back to his office. “And stay off the phone Frankie! I mean it.” I swear a smile pulls at his lips as he slams the door.

Walking to the back of the greenhouse to take inventory, I grab a rubber band off the bench, braiding my hair as I go to keep it off my sweaty neck. Just as I finish, my phone rings making me jump.  

Ripping it from my back pocket, I quickly silence it before Dave hears. He wasn’t kidding when he told me to stay off my phone. Making sure I’m completely hidden between the cucumbers and zucchini, I bring the phone to my ear.

Jess’ high-pitched squeal pierces my eardrums. “Frankieeeeee! I’m so excited for tonight! What are you gonna wear?”

Jess has been my best friend since elementary school despite our different personalities. She thrives in social settings thanks to her bubbly, outgoing personality, whereas I would rather stay home in my pajamas and watch Gilmore Girls.

Before I can even give her an answer, she says, “Don’t you dare bail on me! We’re going to dress up and dance our asses off. You owe me.”

She’s right. She didn’t complain once during our Lord of the Rings marathon last weekend, even though she thought Gandalf and Saruman were the same person.  

“I know, I know. Tonight will be fun. I was thinking of wearing a white tank top with those cute pants I bought last week.” I know she won’t let me get away without showing some skin, but I try anyway. 

Jess huffs. “I knew you would say that. I’m grabbing some clothes that will show off your goods and will meet you at your house. Seriously, Frankie, what would you do without me?” 

I open my mouth to give her a smartass reply when Dave’s door bursts open. “Frankie, you better not be on the phone.”

Shrinking farther between the carts I whisper yell, “Shit!”

Giggles come through the other end of the phone line. “I swear he’s going to fire you someday.”

Grabbing a cucumber, I wave it over my head like a white flag. “Nope, just taking inventory like you told me to,” I yell in Dave’s direction, before whispering into the phone. “I’ll see you at my place.”

“Have fun with the inventory,” Jess says before hanging up.

Pocketing my phone, I look up to see Dave standing over me with his usual scowl. “Cucumber inventory?” He looks at me with an arched grey eyebrow.

“And Zucchini!” I defend, giving him a guilty smile.

Shaking his head, he turns back to his office. He really should fire me, but he won’t because the customers love me.

***

I stop at the liquor store on my way home before pulling my rusty 2002 Chevy Malibu into my driveway. 

Jess is already at my house, carrying more clothes than I have in my entire closet. We met in the third grade when a group of boys were cornering me at school, teasing me for my dirty clothing and unkept hair. I started having a panic attack, but Jess came to my rescue with a group of fifth graders. They swooped in and Jess whisked me away. When I asked her how she convinced the older boys to help, she just shrugged stating, “Anyone will help if you know how to ask.” We’ve been inseparable ever since.

“Can you grab the bag of shoes from my backseat?” she yells over her shoulder as I exit my car. 

“You brought an entire bag of shoes for two people?” Chuckling, I grab the bag, Diet Coke, and Jack Daniels before following her into the old rambler Nate and I are renting. 

It’s not much, but the owner gives us a discount in exchange for Nate doing repairs around the place. It’s surrounded by acres of trees and corn fields, so we have plenty of privacy. The small stream behind our house brings in all kinds of animals. Especially this time of year when the snow has melted, the trees are budding with new leaves, and my hostas serve as a delicious treat for the hungry deer and rabbits.

It’s significantly better than the house we grew up in. Actually, anything without a lock on the pantry door is better than the house we grew up in. I shudder thinking about all the times my mom locked me in that damn pantry. I’m thankful those times are behind me.

We spend the next hour getting ready with Olivia Rodrigo blaring in the background. Jess rolls over on my bed, groaning as I change for the third time. “Dude, you look hot. Stop being self-conscious.” That’s easy for her to say with her silky red hair and body that looks photoshopped.

“Are you sure it isn’t too short?” Being a couple inches taller than Jess makes her clothes look extra scandalous on me. I stare in the mirror, tugging the bottom of the dress down, only to make my cleavage more pronounced. Damnit!

“Hell no,” Jess says, mindlessly scrolling on her phone. “Show off those sexy legs.”

She’s wearing a black sheer top over a black bra and matching miniskirt. Reaching into her bag, she pulls out a pair of strappy heels before throwing them at my feet. 

I glare at the torture devices, reaching for my old trusty converse instead. “I love you, friend, but not enough to sacrifice my toes all night.” 

Jess shrugs her shoulders. “I figured I’d try,” she says before leaping off the bed. “I’m raiding Nate’s room. We need to do shots before our ride gets here.”

A minute later, she returns carrying two shot glasses. “Grandpa G needs water. He looks like shit.”

Grandpa G is a plant we stole from our grandpa’s funeral. I was too busy this morning cleaning up spilled beer and trying to get back to Brad, so I didn’t notice he had been neglected.  

“Ugh, I told Nate I could take better care of that plant than he could, but he insisted on putting it in his bedroom. He said, and I quote ‘chicks dig plants.’ I’m gonna be pissed if Grandpa G dies because Nate needs help getting laid.”

Jess applies another layer of mascara. “Where is Nate anyway? I thought he was coming out with us tonight.” 

I look in the mirror and shrug. This is as good as I’m gonna get. “He wasn’t home this morning when I woke up, but I’m sure he’ll be there.”

I send Nate another text message before Jess and I down our shots.      

Where the hell are you?  Are you coming out tonight?

CHAPTER 2

Zarreth

I peer through the glass patio door, watching the most beautiful woman in fucking existence throw back a shot of liquor. 

She laughs, wiping drops of liquid from her plump lips. Dark curls cascade around her bare shoulders like a waterfall in a haunted forest; a forest I would gladly rip apart for the chance to peer into her emerald-green eyes.

“Dumbass,” scoffing to myself, I shake the thoughts from my head remembering why I’m here. She may be hot as hell, but Frankie Hart needs to die. 

I envision wrapping my fingers around her pretty neck. I bet just one of my hands could fit around it, snapping it like a twig. She’s weak right now, not expecting it. I could lure her away, shove her against a tree, seeing how wet she is under that sorry excuse for a dress.

FUUUUCK, no! Stay focused Zarreth. I’ll make it quick. Snap her neck, then take care of the redhead too. But that might raise too many questions. I need to be patient and wait until she’s alone.

I pull the hood of my sweatshirt over my head, forgetting I no longer need to hide my horns now that they’re gone. Frankie tugs at the bottom of a dress barely covering her ass. Damn she has nice legs, long and smooth. My cock throbs envisioning those legs wrapped around my waist.

Snapping myself from a moment of temporary insanity, I step further into the shadows, behind the tree line. A maroon SUV flies up the driveway, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. The horn blares before coming to a stop, mere inches from the front porch. A red-faced man with a thinning comb-over rolls down the window and yells, “Let’s go.” 

Who the fuck is this guy?

“Calm your tits,” the red head yells as she and Frankie burst through the door. “We’re coming.” 

“Jess! He’s just doing his job,” Frankie admonishes, giving the driver an apologetic look. “Sorry about my friend.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” the driver says as his eyes roam over her body. “I’ve had worse passengers.”

Frankie tugs at her dress once more, smiling uncomfortably at him. Holding back a growl, I ponder the different ways I could separate his head from his body. He doesn’t deserve her looks, her smiles. They’re mine, and I plan to take them all.  

The wind blows in my direction as Frankie crawls into the back seat. The intoxicating scent of sunshine and lavender invades my nostrils, the world around me fading into a blur.

Thump.

Thump.

My heart pounds under my ribcage as a rush of familiarity washes over me. Placing my hand to my chest, I try rubbing out the slight ache lingering there as they drive away. What the fuck was that? Why am I having such a strong reaction to her?

I figured she would smell like death and darkness. Someone who smells like heaven couldn’t possibly be the Realm Eater, could they?

Focus, Zarreth. Emerging from the shadows, I make my way to her house and climb the steps to her porch. They squeak and strain under my weight as I grip the doorknob, easily turning it in my hands.   

Why the fuck isn’t her door locked? It fucking irritates me. It’s like she’s begging for something violent to happen to her. 

I step over the threshold to an open floor plan, directly entering the living room. I’m greeted by a poster of a meditating frog with the caption Try not to be a dick. Ha, the girl has a sense of humor.

Blankets and pillows drape the couch, and a pile of books rests on the coffee table. The only thing separating the kitchen and the living room is a small island with two barstools next to it.

I look through her house, trying to find anything that screams Realm Eater, but find nothing, unless Realm Eaters sleep with pink stuffed dinosaurs. I bring the dinosaur to my nose and inhale deeply. It smells like her, pleasant and calming.

The idea of killing her isn’t sitting well with me. I’ve killed a lot throughout the years, but never a female. It’s hard to believe someone who seems so harmless could be responsible for obliterating entire realms. Maybe I’ll watch her for a few days to be sure she’s the danger we think she is.

I head back to the old, abandoned barn across the road from Frankie’s house. It’s less than extravagant, but it’s far better than the dark, musty cell I lived in for the past twenty years. We chose it because it’s close to Frankie, and no one will suspect we’re staying here.   

Someone must have lived here at some point because two of the stalls have ratty, stained mattresses on the ground. The inch of dust on the old wooden table tells us whoever it was hasn’t been here for a while. 

Ronin bitches at me the moment I walk through the door. I don’t have to say anything for him to know I let Frankie live. 

“What the fuck man? Twenty years in captivity made you soft.” He leans back in a metal chair, balancing on its two rear legs. “I thought you were chosen to lead The Recreants during the rebellion because of your big, bad reputation.”

Ronin and I are from the Realm of Darkened Depths. There are only two demon hordes there, the Death Horde and The Recreants.

Aradon, one of the oldest demons in existence, is the overlord of the Death Horde. He controls two of the three bodies of water, leaving most demons no choice but to bow down to him.

Thankfully, the third body of water is in The Recreants’ village. If we didn’t have access to it, our horde would have been forced to join the Death Horde along with the others. But that didn’t stop Aradon from terrorizing us, raiding our village once a month.

When I was ten years old, my dad went hunting with a group of demons. I begged him to let me come, telling him I would be a better warrior if I did. He reassured me I had the most important job of staying back to protect my mother.

“Mother doesn’t need my protection! She’s fierce!”

“Even the fiercest of warriors need someone by their side.”

That night, Ronin and I learned a lesson we’ll never forget. While we were playing outside, our mothers were preparing dinner. An eerie silence overcame our minds, as if they were taken over by shadows. I didn’t know what terror was until that night when we were forced to watch our mothers being raped by members of the Death Horde. We sat there, utterly helpless, unable to look away as we fought against the shadows claiming our minds. That was the first time I felt Aradon’s dark magic in my head. It was definitely not the last.

Ronin and I vowed to never let something like that happen again. We started practicing with a sword after that. Every day, we would train until our hands were bloody and callused, making sure we were as strong as possible before the change was complete. I completed the change, maturing into my powers first. Stronger and faster than most, I was chosen to lead an army. Ronin completed his change a year later and became my second in command.

It took years to build an army big enough, but we finally decided to rebel. We couldn’t keep living in constant fear. The battle turned into a war that lasted years. Severely outnumbered, on the brink of losing our horde, Aradon offered to let them live in peace if Ronin, three other demons, and I submitted to him.

It was an easy choice for me. I was done watching my horde suffer. Their safety was worth my life. Aradon took us prisoner, and that’s where we’ve been for the past two decades.

Ronin has a right to be pissed—we need to get back to our horde—but I’m still tempted to kick out the legs of his chair and send him crashing to the ground. Leading our small horde into battle and killing a puny halfling with a great smile are two very different things.

I turn the other rusty chair around and sit backwards; a habit I evidently still have, even though my wings are gone. “We need more time.”

“We don’t have time,” Ronin reminds me. “We need to kill her before Aradon finds her so we can finally go home.” 

I know he’s right, but still I say, “What if the prophecy is wrong? What if she’s not what we think she is?” I don’t know why I’m hesitant. She may not be evil now, but she will be after she completes the change.

Ronin taps his thumbs against the front of the small rectangular contraption he’s holding. “We can’t take the chance. Think of the things Aradon could force someone with her powers to do. She needs to die.” 

He slides the contraption across the table to me. I pick it up and turn it over in my hands, studying it. 

“I know. I’ll take care of her.” I hold up the contraption, changing the subject. “What is this?”

“That is your new best friend,” Ronin says. “It’s called a cell phone. Think of it as sending a letter to someone, only faster. They don’t work in the Dark Realm, but it will come in handy while we’re here.” 

Ronin knows a lot about human technology and culture. Many older demons can trace within a realm simply by imagining a place they have already been, but only few have a traveler’s mark, allowing them to trace between realms. As a shadow demon, Ronin was born with one, so he’s been to the Human Realm many times over the years.

I focus on Ronin’s explanation of how to use the phone. We don’t plan to be in the Human Realm long, but I can see how the little tool will be useful.  

Once Ronin is confident I can use the cell phone, he stands, pulls a flask from his pocket, and hands it to me. “This will help with your wounds.” He nods to a bag sitting in the corner. “The clothes in that bag will help you blend in. Get some rest. I’ll be back to check on you.”

Before I can respond, he disappears, leaving behind a cloud of white smoke. Gods, I miss tracing. I can’t wait for my powers to come back. 

I take a swig from the flask. How the hell did he get demon brew? 

Shadow demons are known for having all sorts of connections and for being notoriously crafty. That’s why they make excellent spies. Ronin was one of the best spies in the Dark Realm; before we got captured anyway. 

Looking over my shoulder to where my wings should be, I twist the top off the demon brew and dump it over my back. It stings, but it should prevent infections. 

Normally demons don’t worry about infection because of our ability to heal rapidly, but after everything Aradon did to me, it will take time for all my abilities to return. 

I turn my attention to the stab wound on my stomach. It’s bright red, seeping pus. A scab has formed, so I sterilize my knife, hissing while I reopen the cut. Cleaning it the best I can, I squeeze out the infection before applying a bandage. 

My other wounds have already begun healing. If I sleep tonight, they should all be completely closed by tomorrow. Of course, that will have to wait because I have a little halfling to watch.

CHAPTER 3

Frankie

The Lost Cause Tavern is a small hidden treasure. During the week, it’s home to farmers, construction workers, and anyone who is too tired to cook but still wants a home-cooked meal. 

Butch owns the place, but he refuses to hire a cook, so he makes everything himself. The menu is small, but the food is fantastic.

We walk through the door and push our way to the bar. A couple guys we went to high school with are arguing over a pool game. One of them stops mid-sentence and calls out to Jess. “Hey Jess, I’m still waiting for that date you promised me.”

“I didn’t promise you anything, Tyler,” Jess says as she leans over the bar, grabbing an olive and popping it in her mouth.

Tyler turns his attention to me. “Can’t you talk to her for me, Frankie?” he pleads, making prayer hands and giving me puppy dog eyes.

I shake my head. “You’re a persistent one Tyler, I’ll give you that.”

Mandy, the bartender, has already started mixing our drinks. “Two whiskey cokes for two pretty ladies,” she says, handing them to us, along with two shots of fireball.

“Bottoms up, bitch!” Jess exclaims as we clink our glasses together before downing our shots.

Even though we live in a town too small for a stoplight, the population nearly doubles on the weekends. Especially in the warmer months. Many people from larger cities have cabins here because of all the lakes, and over the years they discovered this tiny piece of heaven. 

Butch brought a band in tonight, so it’s even more packed than usual. Most of the bands who play here are made up of retired men living out their dreams, but tonight the stage is graced with the Walmart version of Maroon 5. They don’t sound too bad and a couple of them are kinda cute.

We head to the dance floor with our drinks and Jess playfully dances in front of the guitar player, flashing him a killer smile. “I’m setting the bait,” she says to me as the guitar player winks at her. She’s like the emo version of Jessica Rabbit.

Chuckling to myself, I close my eyes and sway my hips to the beat, letting the music take me away. Music has always been like therapy to me. Jess’ parents bought me an iPod when I was younger. I would sit at her computer for hours downloading music on it. It helped me block out the fighting at home, making life a little more bearable.    

Jess grabs my hand as we sing obnoxiously to the music, which is thankfully loud because we sound like a herd of dying cows. I was hoping Nate would’ve shown up by now. “I’m gonna call my brother,” I yell over the music.

“Sounds good. I’m gonna go say hi to Tyler,” Jess yells back before heading toward the pool tables. Poor guy. She’s just using him to make the guitar player jealous.

I step outside to call Nate. I can’t believe I haven’t heard from him yet. He usually checks in with me if he’s not going to be home. The phone goes to voicemail. “Hey shithead! I don’t care if your balls deep in some blonde bimbo, you need to get your ass to the tavern. They have a decent band playing tonight.”

I follow the message up with a text.

Seriously, Nate! Where the hell are you?

I imagine him laying in a ditch somewhere before quickly scolding myself. It’s only been a day, I’m sure he’s fine. Although he could at least call me back. Jerk!

I growl in frustration as I close my eyes, resting the back of my head against the side of the building. Where the hell could he be?

A deep voice makes me jump, nearly sending my heart into my throat. It’s the kind of voice that makes your toes curl. The kind that would have you on your knees with just a few words. “You better be careful, little one. That big growl of yours might scare everyone off.”

My eyes fly open. A man who is at least a foot and a half taller than I am stands in front of me. The moon illuminates his face just enough to reveal his strong jaw and devilish smirk. The hood of his black sweatshirt is pulled up, making it difficult to see much else.

But it doesn’t matter. I highly doubt I could focus on anything other than the amber eyes currently burning into mine. I swear the flames in his eyes briefly turn black before turning amber again. Even the shadows can’t hide their intensity and danger lurking within.

“S…Sorry,” I stutter. “I thought I was alone.”

The man steps closer to me, placing a hand on the brick wall beside my head. The heat radiating off his body ignites a fire in mine, burning me up from the inside out. His scent carries a hint of charred wood, like a campfire that had burned down to the coals. His eyes trail over every inch of me, leisurely taking in my bare legs, the crease between my breasts, my neck. He stops when he reaches my mouth as I instinctively wet my lips. Darkness spreads from his pupils, turning his eyes black, like he’s possessed. Damn, this man is so hot I’m starting to see things.  

I’m painfully aware of how revealing this stupid skin-tight dress is, knowing the french-fries and cheeseburger I ate earlier are showing. Normally I don’t care about that; I think soft, little tummies are cute, but the way this man is staring at me is making me suddenly self-conscious.  

His eyes return to their amber glow as he brings them up to meet mine. “We are alone,” he purrs.

I blink. My God. Is it possible to have an orgasm from one look? I feel my insides tighten as I rub my thighs together. Why is this incredibly attractive man talking to me in the first place? I’m sure he can have anyone he wants. 

I continue staring into his eyes, mesmerized. I try to think of something clever to say, but of course I have no luck. The only thing leaving my mouth is a pathetic little squeak. 

The corner of his lips pulls up in amusement as he brings them to my ear. I nearly moan as his breath sweeps across my skin, sending goosebumps over my body. His presence reminds me of a wolf sizing up his next meal as I arch my neck, giving him full access.

What is wrong with me?

The growl I’m met with is deadly. “You should get inside. It’s dangerous out here.” 

He steps back, breaking the connection. I blink rapidly, stealing my spine as shivers run down it like a thousand spiders skittering across my skin. I quickly turn, thankful I’m wearing my converse and not the shoes Jess suggested. With my luck, I’d fall flat on my face with those heels on.

I will my legs to walk calmly and not sprint to the door like the chickenshit I am. I’m determined not to let the sexy stranger see me this nervous or aroused.

Once inside, I lean against the door, now feeling cold without his burning presence. My adrenaline fades, letting me breathe easier as I wonder what he was doing in the alley. He doesn’t seem like the small-town bar type.

Jess is still talking to Tyler, so I stop by the bar and order two more whiskey cokes. The front door bangs open, and I look over, hoping the man from outside followed me in.

No luck. It’s just a cute couple holding hands and making me want to puke. I don’t know why I want to see him anyway. He has trouble written all over him. 

“Frankie!” Mandy says, pulling me back to reality.

I grab the drinks from her hand. “Thanks, girl. Can you put them on my tab?”

She points to the two guys near the end of the bar. “Too late, the Chads already took care of it.” I smile to myself. We have code names for the out-of-towners. If she names them Chad, it means they’re harmless, but man children.

“I guess I should go thank them,” I say, but change my mind when one bites his lower lip, looking at me like I’m a snack. “Gross,” I scoff, looking back at Mandy who looks like she has the heebie jeebies just as much as I do.

I decide to simply nod my head in their direction, forcing a polite smile. The other Chad makes a V-shape with his fingers and sticks his tongue between them, earning a high-five from his friend.

I pretend to gag as Mandy gives them a dirty look. “Gross is an understatement,” she says. “I’ll be sure to ward them off.”

The band announces they’re taking a break, so I sit at an empty table near the dance floor. I should say hi to Tyler and his friends, but I hate small talk. Jess sees me anyway and comes over. I’m about to tell her about the guy in the alley when the hot guitar player and the drummer take a seat next to us.

The guitarist takes Jess’ hand in a gentle handshake as they start an awkward conversation.

“Brent,” the guitarist says.

“Jessica,” Jess coos in a breathy, sexy voice.

“Single?”

“For now.”

“Interested?”

“Maybe. You?”

“Very.”

I look at the drummer; he doesn’t have the dangerous allure of the amber-eyed stranger, but he’s kinda charming. “Does your friend have more than four words in his vocabulary? Because apparently mine forgot how to string sentences together.”

The drummer, whose name turns out to be Micah, laughs. “Words are hard for him, but I think he might be up to ten now.”

Brent chuckles and slugs Micah in the shoulder. We continue chatting until the break is over and the band goes on stage to play their second half of their set. Jess fills me in on an after party they invited us to. I sigh internally as I realize it’s going to be a long night. My introverted self will definitely need to sleep for days after this.

We finish our drinks and head back to the dance floor. I catch myself looking at the door often, hoping my stranger will return. I’m sure he’s off scaring unsuspecting victims with his deep, manly voice.

I replay that sexy deep voice in my head as I dance to the music, minding my own business, when I feel someone’s junk press into my tailbone. I turn around, taking a step back. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. “I hope you enjoyed that, because that’s the closest you will get to getting lucky tonight.” I internally cringe, apologizing to my poor ass for letting Chad touch it.

Why do guys think dancing means humping like an adolescent dog who isn’t neutered? I’ve given no signals indicating I’m interested in being humped.

He must realize what a douchebag he looks like because he opens his eyes and says, “What’s wrong baby? Don’t you want to dance with the Champ?”

I make a point to look around the bar for someone worthy of the title. “Sure. Where’s the Champ?”

Chad opens his arms wide before slapping his chest like he’s Tarzan. “You’re looking at him.”

I hold back a laugh. He actually believes himself. Chad really doesn’t know how to read a room. “I’m not interested.”

“Sure you are, baby. You just need a little convincing.” He places his hands on my hips.

“Get your hands off me!” I try backing up, but the douchebag tightens his grip and pulls me against him. He smells nothing like my stranger. Instead of burning coal, it’s axe body spray and body odor. I press my hands to his chest and push, trying to get away. “I’m serious. Back the fuck up.”

Instead, he grinds his pencil dick into the front of me. “You like it rough, baby? I could make you feel so good,” he says before licking me like a goddam dog. The asshole LICKED ME! So much for warding them off, Mandy.

“No means no, asshole!” I try bracing my feet, pushing with all my might, but he doesn’t budge. Little white spots float in my vision, blurring the scene around me. What’s happening? Is this what fainting feels like? I swear to God, if I pass out in Chad’s smelly arms I’m gonna be pissed. I finally glance up to see blood oozing from his eyes, his face twisted in agony.

“Your eyes,” he whispers. With a stunned look on his face, Chad grabs his head and turns around. 

Why did he say your eyes? He’s the one who should be worried about his eyes. People gasp, scrambling out of the way as Chad stumbles off the dance floor.

“Dude, you’re bleeding,” someone says. 

I hardly notice Chad Number Two flipping me off before following his friend to the bathroom. My whole body feels numb. Shivering, I try pushing down the rising panic. Did I cause the bleeding? If so, how? All I did was push him back. And why do my hands feel like they fell asleep? I shake them, trying to get the weird, buzzing feeling to leave. 

Jess comes up, wrapping her arms around me. “Are you okay?” When she pulls away, her eyes go wide as they meet mine. “Woah, your eyes are like super green.”

“My eyes?” Her concern over my eyes confuses me because Chad’s eyes were literally bleeding. “Did you see his eyes?” My voice trembles as I try processing what just happened.

Jess puts her hands on her hips. “That guy is an asshole. Who knows what he does to girls who are too drunk to say no. He deserves to have his eyes clawed out.”

“I didn’t go near his face, though.” I shake my head. “I just pushed him off me. I don’t know what the hell happened to his eyes.”

Jess adjusts her nose ring. “Maybe he’s on drugs.”

“Maybe.” I don’t believe it though. Could a person really bleed from their eyes because of a drug?

Jess’ face falls a little. “Do you want to leave? We can go,” she says, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice.

No way am I leaving. Jess deserves a night out. She’s been working so hard lately. “Hell no! I’m not letting that d-bag ruin our night.”

Jess squeals in delight as I turn around, marching back to the bar. “Where’re you going?” she yells, following my path through the crowd.

Before I even reach the bar, Mandy gives me a sympathetic look. “I already told Butch. He said he’ll throw them out as soon as they get out of the bathroom.”

Sometimes I really love living in a small town. The locals always look out for each other. “Thanks, girl! I owe you one.”

The night continues without a hitch. By the time last call comes around, I forget all about the Chads. 

We order one last round of shots. Brent leans into the microphone, giving us a shout out before downing his whiskey. Micah holds the glass up and winks at me before slamming his. 

Twenty minutes later, we’re standing outside The Tavern.

“So ladies, what’s there to do around here?” Brent casually slings his arm around Jess’ shoulder.

“I thought we were going to an after party,” Jess says.

“Sounds like the dude Frankie beat up might be at the party, so we figured you guys would want to do something else.” Micah smiles, brushing my shoulder with his.

I roll my eyes. “I didn’t beat anyone up.” I’m still a little creeped out, so I’m thankful they want to ditch the party. Coming up with an idea, I add. “But I know the perfect spot.”

Jess knows exactly what I’m thinking, and a big smile spreads across her face. “It’s unusually warm out tonight.”

Fisherman’s Bridge is only a half mile from The Tavern. The weather is perfect, and the fresh air feels amazing after dancing in a hot bar all night. 

Brent gives Jess a piggyback ride as she giggles at something he said. Micah looks at them, then turns to me with an expectant look on his face like he wants me to hop on his back too. I glance away, pretending I didn’t see the silent question in his eyes. Why am I so awkward? 

“Here it is,” I say as we come to stop, finally reaching our destination.

“Here what is?” Micah looks at the old wooden bridge, which looks as if it might collapse at any second.

“This is Fisherman’s Bridge. We came here a lot in high school. If the water is cold, I’m sure we can find a way to warm up.” I give Micah a flirty look, trying to make up for brushing him off earlier.  

Micah must like that idea, because he lifts my chin and plants a kiss right on my lips before stripping down to his boxers. “Let’s make some bad decisions.” Laughing, he shoves Brent. The last thing we hear before they jump is their “whoop, whoop,” followed by a satisfying splash.

Jess and I strip down to our bras and panties. “You ready?” Jess holds her hand out.

I take her hand in mine and smile. “Always,” I say before we jump off the bridge, landing in the cold water.

Floating on my back, I look at the stars, thinking of my stranger in the bar. I squeeze my thighs together, remembering the way he looked at me and the rumble of his deep voice when he told me it was dangerous there.

Obviously, he’s not from around here. The only danger in this town is getting stuck with the gross sprinkled donuts if you get to the gas station too late on a Sunday.

“Frankie! Get your ass up here,” Jess yells. I blink a few times realizing everyone else is already out of the water.

“Coming!” I swim to shore, shivering as I get out of the water. Jess is pulling Brent’s T-shirt over her head, as the boys work on starting a fire in the pit the locals dug in years ago.

“I didn’t know city boys knew how to make a fire. I’m impressed,” I tease, slipping on my dress, strategically removing my wet bra and underwear so I don’t flash anyone.

Micah grins, revealing perfectly straight white teeth, the kind you only get from braces. “I guess those summer camps my parents sent me to as a kid are finally coming in handy.”

“I guess they are.” He really is cute, and cute is exactly what I need. There is no reason for me to think about my sexy stranger. Cute is good; sexy is bad.

“Hell yeah,” Micah whoops as flames come to life. He sits back, looking proud of himself.

“Finally, I gotta take a leak.” Brent heads into the shadows.

Jess quickly jumps up. “I better go help him,” she exclaims. “Hopefully he needs help holding it up.”

I bust out laughing. I freaking love drunk Jess, even though she left me all alone to stare awkwardly at Micah.

“Sooo, how’s it going?” I try putting my hands in my pockets, only to remember I don’t have any.  

Micah smirks. Grabbing my hand, he pulls me to the ground, so I’m sitting with my back to his chest. “I thought we could keep each other warm,” he whispers in my ear before nibbling on it. I like the sound of that.

Micah slips his hand through the top of my dress and squeezes my breast. The warmth of his palms feels good against my cold, pebbled nipple. I reach both arms over my head, playfully pulling his hair, while arching my back, silently giving him permission to go further.

Micah uses his other hand to run his fingers up my leg before attempting to find my clit. Using the very tip of his index finger, he focuses on a spot about a centimeter away. “You like that?” he murmurs.

Do I like what? Having a fingertip size piece of flesh rubbed raw? I’m almost thankful he can’t find my clit. I nod my head, not knowing what to say as I try nudging his hand in the right direction. I wish there was a class for those who don’t own a clit explaining the chances of finding the little nub increase greatly if you use a larger surface area to find it.

I know I should just push his hand down, leaving him no choice but to use his palm, but I’m too embarrassed. Instead, I close my eyes, imagining his fingers belonging to the stranger with amber eyes. I rock my pelvis back and forth, pretending I’m pressed up against the side of a building, riding someone else’s hand.

Just when he finds the magical bundle of nerves, he pulls away. What the hell? My eyes snap open as Micah groans, his hands holding both sides of his head.   

“Are you alright?” I ask. 

“No. My head might explode,” he mumbles, rubbing his temples.

What? How is this happening for the second time? It has to be a coincidence. His eyes aren’t bleeding. He probably gets headaches all the time. 

“Hold on. I have some Advil.” Blood rushes to my head when I stand up. I wobble slightly before steadying myself. Maybe that last shot was a bad idea.

I shake my hands, hoping to get the feeling back into them. With numb fingers, I manage to retrieve two tablets from my purse. Why are my hands feeling so weird tonight?

I hand the tablets to Micah. He swallows them without water, groaning as he lays back against a stump.

Jess and Brent stroll over, hand in hand. Jess has a doe-eyed look on her face, and I already know I’m going home alone.

“What’s wrong with you, dude?” Brent asks Micah.

“I don’t feel so hot. I think I’m getting a migraine.”

Jess shuffles over to me, bumping her hip to mine with a wicked grin on her face. “Brent asked me to stay with him tonight. You should come with.”

I’m not going to be a third wheel while Micah sleeps off his migraine. I yawn, stretching my arms overhead. “I’m tired, but you should still go. One of us might as well get laid tonight.”

My bed sounds comfortable anyway, and I know B.O.B. (my battery-operated boyfriend) will be an excellent companion for the night.