Ravished (The Teplo Trilogy #1) (29 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

The floor shook beneath Tristan's feet. Bodies swayed. Strobe lights bounced across the room, glinting off nameless, faceless addicts as they prowled the stifling club. Shouts, shrieks and laughter rang out over the electronic beats pumping through the place. An eerie harmony melded into an addict's battle cry somewhere between the vibrating floor and the rafters.

Tristan pulled Lillian deeper into hell, her hand clutched in his. He scanned the crowd as they pressed forward, searching for Anton Vetrov's henchmen scattered around the club like sentries. He picked them out easily, their faces seared into his memory as if he'd been on this case forever.

Malachi stood in the far corner, leering as two women grinded on one another. Hannah leaned over the bar, her little dress a mere finger span from baring her crotch to the room. Stephan stalked the edges of the dance floor, seeming pissed off and unfulfilled. The mystery blond hovered near the storage room door.

Addicted club-goers circled through in an endless parade, seeking what they'd come for. Crumpled bills and plastic bags full of deadly powder, noxious liquid, and falsely innocuous looking pills changed hands beneath flashing lights, but none of those hands belonged to Anton Vetrov's people. And no one seemed to care where the drugs came from, or where their money went. It all ended up in the same place anyway, so why waste brain cells they no longer had trying to sort out something they didn't find relevant? So long as that fix wound through their veins and pumped through their organs with every beat of their hearts, the drugs could have come from anywhere.

Lillian stopped walking when he growled in frustration, and tugged on his hand.

"Beautiful," he said, alarmed as she slipped from his embrace and veered to the left. "Where are you going?" His heart slammed against his ribcage when the lights hit her. Warm brown seduction and stubborn determination flared in her gaze. The secretive smile on her face melted every reservation he had about their sudden change of direction.

"I want to dance with you," she mouthed, the sound of her voice drowned out by the music.

He caught the shape of each word anyway.

His mind grasped at images of the last time they'd danced here and he nearly came unglued. He wanted that. Craved it like the people around them craved whatever drug had led them through
Teplo's
double doors. He let Lillian lead him onto the dance floor, glaring at those who leered at her. They let her pass unmolested, their eyes catching on her hand wrapped about his wrist and the protective, challenging way he hovered over her before their attention wandered off.

Lillian drew to a stop in the middle of the dance floor, hesitating.

Tristan stepped forward until her back was flush with his chest. "Don't lose your nerve now, sweetheart. I like it when you take charge."

She faltered, seemingly at a loss.

"Just relax," he said, widening his stance to cradle her hips with his.

She glanced over her shoulder at him. Doubt lingered in her gaze, but she started to move with him anyway. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her in. The gun strapped to the small of her back pressed against his stomach. Deadly steel. Warm woman. The sharp contradiction of the two made his blood steam in his veins.

"You feel good," he murmured, nudging her head with his until his lips were at her ear again, where she could hear him over the pounding music. He wanted her to hear him, just as much as he knew she needed to hear his voice. Despite her bravery, this place terrified her, and the connection between them soothed her just as much as touching her eased him.

He glanced around, looking for any sign of trouble. They'd been lucky so far, but it wouldn't always be like that. If the Vetrov family really did suspect him, sooner or later, all hell would break loose. But for now, he and Lillian were safe in the middle of the dance floor. It was just him and her and the nameless, faceless smiling as music and pretty colors captured their sluggish, drugged minds and held.

"Close your eyes."

Lillian obeyed without question, her breath a soft sigh in his ear.

"Remember how I told you I liked to watch you move?" he asked, matching the slow, hesitant rhythm she'd set.

"I remember," she said, heat in her voice.

He rewarded her for speaking up by nipping at her earlobe. "Show me what I like, baby. Dance with me."

"Tristan, I'm not sure-"

"Don't overthink it. You hear the music?"

"Yes."

"Do you feel it?"

She shook her head, denying him.

"You're safe," he promised her. "I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere, okay? It's just me and you, Lillian. Relax." He ran his hands up and down her sides, soothing her with touch as best he could. "I've got you."

She nodded.

"Feel the way the music vibrates in your chest. You want to move with it, don't you? You want to feel it like you used to." He ran his hands up and down her sides again, brushing them beneath her breasts just as he had this morning.

And just as she had this morning, she responded.

Her breathing slowed, tension draining from her.

"Do you feel it now, sweetheart?"

"Yes," she breathed.

"Good." He rewarded her with another soft bite. "Now dance for me."

He wanted her to let go, to let herself
really
feel everything she'd loved before her asshole partner had ruined her life. Music hadn't hurt her then. It'd set her free. The desire to help her find that freedom once more was a physical ache. He couldn't give her back everything Marc Rivera had stolen from her, and he couldn't make her forget that drugs had destroyed her life. But if she was brave enough to walk through the doors of
Teplo
with him after everything she'd endured, the least he could do was make coming here a little less painful for her.

She relaxed against him, her movements more fluid and confident than before. One small hand slid up his arm and wound around his neck. The other followed. She locked her fingers together behind his neck to steady herself. Tristan wrapped one hand around her hip and the other around her waist, securing her to him so she could dance without fear of falling.

She moved sinuously then, unencumbered.

He absorbed her weight, compensating for the stiffness of her leg. She pressed her ass into him as she gyrated to the beat. A little smile played at her lips. A soft sigh tumbled from her. His hands freely roamed across her body. He was no more capable of stilling them than he was of letting her go. The way her body undulated, her hips and chest rolling as she lost herself in the music enthralled him.

Putting his heart into her little hands would be easy. Painless. He'd told Jason he cared for her, but that was a lie. One that didn't come anywhere close to describing what he really felt. He was consumed by her. Completely eviscerated by her. And that scared the fuck out of him now just as much as ever.

"Tristan," she whispered, "kiss me."

He tilted his head to hers and poured all of himself into that kiss. His pride. His fear and uncertainty. Everything he wasn't sure he was allowed to feel, and everything he felt anyway. She took it all, returning his kiss with equal fervor and passion.

He became lost in her. The mewling whimpers whispering from her blew his world apart. The part of himself that wanted to possess her roared to the surface like a winged demon, his feelings for her ripping its cage wide open. He wanted her. Here. Now. Hard and fast.

"Paulo is here," she murmured suddenly, pulling away.

Tristan's eyes popped open, everything changing between one heart beat and the next. A chill ran through him when his gaze landed on Paulo Vetrov. The bastard hovered a few feet from them, his dark gazed bouncing around the crowd as if in search of someone.

Anton might have been a greedy bastard, but his son was a deviant sociopath. He took what he wanted from whomever he wanted. His list of crimes was long, the list of victims longer. Tristan didn't want him focusing on Lillian. Didn't even want the motherfucker to know she existed.

He turned her in his arms until she was obscured from Paulo's view.

Tristan rolled his shoulders to ease the tension in his muscles. It didn't help. In the blink of an eye, he was coiled tight, completely wound up. Desire, duty, and danger battled for dominion. He felt ready to snap beneath their combined weight.

Lillian mumbled something against his neck, but he didn't catch the words, and didn't have time to find out what she'd said. Paulo turned in their direction again, his dark eyes full of malevolence as he scanned the crowd around them.

Tristan began walking Lillian slowly backward, allowing the crowd on the floor to swallow them up. Fear lashed at him, urging him on until they were off the dance floor, tucked into a corner as far away from Paulo as they could get and still remain in the club.

Lillian trembled in his arms. Her eyes were wide and full of fear.

"You're safe, baby," he whispered. "You're safe."

Relief crashed over him when the truth of his words hit him, combining with the emotion already racing through him. It wrecked him, stripped away everything. Adrenaline and need raged, unchecked.

He crushed her to him, his entire body shaking.

"Kiss me, Lillian. Now."

Tristan's mouth descended on hers, his husky demand that she kiss him searing through her. Fear fell away, no match for the way he kissed and protected her. His touch soothed her like nothing else would, melting away danger as if it'd never been there at all. As if
Paulo
had never been there at all.

Desire rose, higher and higher until she felt as if she'd spun out of control. She wanted Tristan. Here. Now. Against the wall. Everything ached for him. Her skin begged to feel his hands upon her. Her nipples were tight peaks beneath the lace of her bra, as desperate for his touch as the rest of her.

He groaned into her mouth and propelled her deeper into the corner, harder against the wall. She wanted that too. Deeper. Harder. His body a heavy weight on hers. She didn't want soft and slow, didn't want the gentle caresses he'd given her in front of those mirrors, but the primal lust that had swept them both away the night before.

"Beautiful."

She would never tire of hearing the way he said that word to her. It was so reverent, like a prayer upon his lips. This time, the word shook.

"Tristan." She forgot what she meant to say before she ever had the chance to say it. The way he pressed his body to hers sent coherent thought skittering off in all directions.

His tongue darted out to play at her lips.

Bass shook the wall behind her, vibrating her entire body and that felt good, too. Everything felt good. Sensation seemed somehow heightened, intensified. Whether because of where they were, what this place was, the dangerous line they walked or something else entirely, she didn't know. Right then, she didn't care either.

Desire for more raged through her and that's the only thing that mattered.

More of him.

Always more of him.

"Please," she said as his fingers tangled with hers, lifting them up, and then pressing them onto the wall above her head. Desire coiled like a spring low in her belly, tighter and tighter as he attacked her mouth. No longer soft kisses, but demanding nips. A dominating onslaught that had her knees weak and her pulse pounding in time to the music ripping through the club.

"You like not being in control, don't you?" he whispered when she circled her hips, seeking relief from the pressure building between her thighs. He nudged them apart with his knee, sending a shard of pleasure lancing through her.

She didn't deny it. She couldn't.

"Do you like this, Lillian?" he asked, lifting her hands from their position over her head and then pressing them back into the cool brick of the wall to illustrate what
this
meant. Him holding her captive.

Did she like it?

"God, yes."

She liked everything about it. Loved that she didn't have to think or move or do anything but let him do as he desired. Her breasts ached. Her heart thundered. Her blood rushed in a dull roar in her ears, shutting out every single thing but him, her, and the cool brick at her back.