Вɭɑck, Вɭɑck, Нɛɑɼʈ

(Part 1)


"Struggle to get your attention."

"I-I think you've had too much to drink!"

"Toris, be a dear and stop mothering me."

Too lost in the alcohol swirling around your mind, you feigned inebriation. Toris groaned beside you, pleading, "Let us return home, okay?" His insecure, precarious voice annoyed you. Tearing him limb from limb until he no longer followed you around seemed like an effective solution. Other customers at the bar noticed his fretting and caught glimpses of your hardening jaw, keeping their distance. "I-it concerns me when you drink so much!"

Nose crinkling with your cold smile, you laughed:

"Darling, I could care less."

Despite your shutdown, Toris insisted and you ignored him. Considering the frustrations from the earlier meeting, you would have preferred no company. With the exception of one man, of course. You glanced quickly at him, snatching a peek of his beautiful face across the room. Eyebrows descending at the thought of him, however, your irritation increased. Getting his attention proved difficult since it was focused on the one woman you hated.

"Good evening, [Name]!"

Speak of the goddamn devil.

A grumble rumbled through your throat.

Naturally, she would be at the bar tonight, too.

Bosom bouncing beneath the layers of her coat, elegant scarf draped around her porcelain neck, Anya approached you. Thus the cycle you despised concluded. Wherever you went, Toris went. Wherever Toris went, Anya went. This inevitably meant that wherever you went, Anya went. Yet, a different demon danced her eyes as she focused them on you instead of Toris.

The manipulative glint in her lavender eyes was alarming.

"You have an interest in Nikolai, I hear?"

Anger sparked in your stare. "Why, yes," you replied, "I do." Disappointment flickered in Toris's eyes, widening Anya's smile. When she seated herself on the barstool beside you, your stomach churned with disgust. Beautiful hands stroking her bottle of vodka, she strummed the instrument of her own demise, humming. Your revulsion catapulted. "Why do you ask, Anya?"

"Oh, no reason in particular," she crooned, "I dislike rumors about my friends."

"I am sure you do, but rumors don't bother me."

Reaching for your hand, Anya pressed her palm upon your fist. Skin crawling, you shot her a lethal glare, but she dismissed it with a beam. "Do not be so defensive on my behalf," her innocent façade sickened you, "I'm only here to inform you that he's interested."

This shocked you.


Across the room, elbows perched upon the table, the sharp-eyed hunter lusted for his prey. Endless fantasies haunted his nightmarish life. Nikolai hissed between clenched teeth, patience wearing thin. Bone white knuckles pressed against his parched lips, lithe fingers interlocked. Silver bangs flitted across his calculating gaze when he ripped it away from a leering Anya.

"Have you noticed that Nikolai keeps looking at you, [Name]?"

Thrills danced up your spine. With a casual glance, you looked at Nikolai. Darkness crept into his corner of the bar, his powerful form radiating intensity. A chill pricked upon the back of your neck. How intriguing. Consumed by your hungering curiosity, your vulnerability appeared.

"Do you think he's interested in me?"

An adorable, deceptive laugh escaped the Russian girl. "I heard he wants you."

Heart seizing control of your actions, you answered the dismal calling.

Those dark, forbidden eyes glared at you from across the bar.

Fate attracted your probing orbs, connection generated.

With a coquettish smile, you returned the intent stare. Nikolai stared back. A scheme unraveled within your twisted mind. "Toris, would you do me a favor?" Turning to the Lithuanian, you noticed a gape widening his frightful mouth. Irked by his expression, yours tightened, but then you felt a hand fall upon your shoulder. Electrocuted by the potent grip, you turned with enthralled eyes.

"Good evening, [Name]."

Delighted shivers tangoed with his harsh accent. Nikolai pressed his hand harder upon you, pressure building inside and outside your reverberating chest. How did he move so quickly? Before your thoughts manifested into words, the Belarusian departed, disappearing into the crowd. The difficulty of exhaling made your lungs clench, other organs tight with apprehension.

What in the world just happened?

Weaving a web with her voice, a spider's tendrils, Anya sang:

"See? I told you so."

"Got me trippin', super psycho love."