Page 13 of Chained By the Alpha (Claimed Duet #1)

“Ah, yeah, Maya and I had a falling out,” Deacon says, and I look at him. He never mentioned having a falling out with Maya, nor did I know he really spoke to her much.

“Her loss, she is far too sensitive sometimes,” Lydia states.

“Well, at least you made it,” Deacon shrugs.

“Wait, you invited them?” I ask him, and he looks at me.

“What, they wanted to go, chill out, Cleo? You know I’m friends with them.

What’s gotten into you?”

“Gee, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you asked me to go to the club with you then decided to invite your ex and my bitch stepsister along,” I snap, and my eyes go to Amber. “No offense, Amber,” I tell her. Truthfully, Amber wasn’t so bad when she wasn’t around Lydia.

“Jealousy is a curse,” Amber pipes in, while Deacon tries to defuse the situation.

Deciding to let it go, I turn back to the line. No wonder Lydia was so eager for me to go earlier. She knew it would piss me off when I learned Deacon invited them.

Putting those thoughts aside, I decide, despite this, that I want to enjoy myself.

Once inside, I feel a sudden jolt of energy, ready to dance my problems away.

But that energy quickly dissipates when I lock eyes with a tall handsome figure across the dimly lit room. Zayn. His silver eyes pierce into mine.

“I need a drink,” I tell Deacon, who nods, leading me to the bar.

“What do you want?” he asks.

“Just water,” I tell him.

“Oh, come on, Cleo. Have fun, live a little,” Lydia purrs, coming up behind me.

“My treat!” she taunts, flashing her card at me.

It’s not like I have a card of my own. My father took mine after Lydia stole it and racked up a huge bill.

My father was furious and took it back. Now I get a cash allowance from working for him, which is dwindling fast after Lydia reversed into my car, cracking the radiator and crushing the front end.

So I am glad I no longer have to worry about that bill after my father paid it.

“Fine!” Lydia orders us drinks, something called a fruit tingle, it is sickeningly sweet, and I sip mine, not intending to get drunk.

Deacon leads me to the dance floor, yet that lasts all of five minutes before my leg starts throbbing, and I have to sit.

I sit in one of the booths, watching Deacon dance with Lydia, who is shaking her ass all over him, along with Amber, who at least has the decency to keep her distance.

Lydia gives no fuck who she makes uncomfortable.

“Shouldn’t you be home resting?” Zayn demands, his voice a low rumble coming from behind me. I jump, not seeing where he came from.

“Last time I checked, you weren’t my keeper,” I retort, refusing to let him control me like everyone else.

“You’re right, but I saw you by yourself and wanted to check on you,” he tells me.

“I’m fine,” I tell him, and he sighs.

“I can tell; that is why you’ve been glaring at your little boyfriend, who’s dry humping your sister on the dance floor.”

“He’s not dry humping her. They’re friends,” I tell him, and he laughs.

“That’s debatable with the way he has his hands all over her,” he says, shaking his head.

“Like you know anything; they’ve been friends since they were kids.”

“With benefits by the look of it.”

I growl at him. Now he is deliberately trying to get under my skin.

“Just stop. I’ve put up with enough drama today. I don’t need you getting in my head, trying to cause more.”

“Right, I’ll leave you alone. You’re right, I don’t know the little worm well,” he says, setting his glass on the table beside me.

I peer up at him, towering over me when he leans down, so close I can smell the whiskey on his breath. “But just for the record, I wouldn’t be able to get in your head unless you suspected they were fooling around already.” “They’re just friends,” I repeat, my voice a growl.

“You keep saying that, but if it is true, why has he left you here while he dances with her?” he asks, and his words sting.

His words are true. When I complained about my leg, he didn’t bat an eyelash in my direction, just waved me away.

“Something to think about, Cleo. You can do better. He isn’t worth your time.” “Then who is? You?” I scoff and he shrugs.

“Well, if you were mine, I wouldn’t be caught dead with another woman, let alone have my hands all over one,” he whispers. I swallow, and he smirks before standing back up, and I find Deacon staring in our direction. Suddenly, a bouncer taps Zayn on the shoulders.

“Alpha, a fight has broken out upstairs.”

“Shit, show me,” Zayn says, following him. I shake my head, turning my attention back to the dance floor, where I notice Lydia is gone and Deacon is making his way over to me.

“What did he want?” he asks, and I shrug.

“Wanna get out of here?” I ask him.

“Lydia just went to get us all more drinks.”I huff.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. I point to my leg.

“An hour more, then we’ll go,” he says, and I shoot him a dirty look. “Promise,” he tells me when Lydia hands me a drink. I shake my head.

“Come on, don’t be a party pooper,” she whines.

“I have to drive,” I remind her, and she shrugs.

“Catch a taxi; I can run you back in tomorrow to get your car,” she tells me, holding out the blue-colored drink. Reluctantly, I accept it, sipping it when Amber comes over.

“Deacon, come dance with me!” she whines, giving him pouty lips. She tugs on his arm, and I raise an eyebrow at him. He mouths sorry and lets her pull him back toward the dance floor.

“One hour, Deacon!” I yell out over the music. He blows me a kiss and holds up one finger, indicating an hour.

For the next hour, I try to lose myself in the pulsing beats and flashing lights, but I can’t shake the feeling of Zayn’s gaze on me.

Gradually, I begin to feel strange. Something is wrong.

I get up and make my way toward the bar to ask for some water.

My face is tingling, and I hear my words slurring when I speak.

The lady at the bar grabs my arm as I sway on my feet, and my surroundings blur.

“I’m fine. That drink was stronger than I thought,” I say, shaking her hand off.

I have to get out of here. I turn and look for Deacon.

The mish-mash of bodies on the dance floor blurs around me, and the music dims as my hearing moves in and out from loud to soft. My head feels heavy, my tongue thick, and my limbs don’t want to cooperate.

“Deac’, I don’t feel so good,” I mumble, clutching his arm for balance when I find him. “Can you take me home?”

“Sure thing, Cleo. Let’s get you out of here,” he says, leading me through the throng of sweaty bodies.

The world spins around me as Deacon guides me to his car, parked next to mine.

“No, you’ve been drinking,” I tell him.

“Call my father,” I tell him, willing to take his wrath, then wrap ourselves around a pole or kill someone.

“Just let me lie down for a bit,” I tell him, my legs feeling like lead weights.

“Want to lie down in the back until your father gets here? Your car’s too small for that,” he suggests, opening the hatch. Grateful for the offer, I nod weakly, letting him help me into the trunk. As soon as I lie down, my body feels impossibly heavy and unresponsive.

“Deacon, I can’t feel my body,” I try to say. The words come out garbled and distorted as panic creeps in. Instead of offering comfort, Deacon climbs in beside me, closing the hatch and plunging us into darkness.

“You’re alright,” he murmurs, brushing my hair back from my face. His touch should have been reassuring, it only heightens my unease.

“Did you call my dad?” I ask him, my eyes flutter closed, and he says something I can’t make out.

He leans down and presses his lips against mine, ignoring my feeble attempt to turn away. “Deacon, did you call—” My words are cut off by him gripping my chin forcefully; he invades my mouth with his tongue, his kisses growing more eager and desperate.

“Deacon, what are… no,” I slur, as I try to push him off me.

Ignoring my protests, he lifts my butt up and rips down my leggings and tears open my cami, leaving me vulnerable and exposed. My mind races, searching for an escape, while my body refuses to obey.

The tension in the air is palpable, a dangerous energy that makes my skin crawl. Deacon’s voice is barely recognizable, his words slurred and filled with a malicious intent that I never thought him capable of. The sense of betrayal cuts deep, leaving me feeling cold and hollow inside.

“Deacon,” I whisper weakly. My vision blurs as fear creeps in while I wait to wake up from this nightmare. It has to be a nightmare. Deacon would never. Once again, my eyes flutter shut, though my mind screams for me to wake.

“Stop, Deacon,” I manage to say when I hear the unmistakable sound of his zipper. The dark haze encircling my mind is suffocating, like a vice grip around my consciousness.

“Don’t be such a prude,” Deacon growls, his voice cruel and unfamiliar. “Two years, Cleo, and we still haven’t fucked. So Lydia gave you a little something to help you relax.”

Deacon pulls my underwear down.

He starts moving my limbs like I am a puppet and he is the puppeteer, and the next second, bright light sears my eyes repeatedly as I fight to remain conscious.

“You better keep your fucking word,” I think I hear, I can’t be sure when the flash goes off again. The ceiling swirls when I see a phone before another flash that blinds me.

I struggle to keep my eyes open, to fight against the darkness that threatens to engulf me. Each flash from the phone is like a physical assault, disorienting and terrifying.

I want to scream, to run, to do anything besides lie here helplessly.

Tears form in my eyes, but my body remains unresponsive to my desperate pleas for it to move, to do anything. My heart pounds in my chest as the gravity of the situation settles upon me, making it even harder to breathe.

“Deacon?” I slur, wanting him to get me out of whatever is going on.

Deacon’s laugh is cruel and mocking, a sound that sends shivers down my spine. “You’re mine,” he slurs, his words dripping with possessiveness. “I’ve waited long enough for this.”

Suddenly, the door of the wagon is ripped open. “What the fuck, man?” I hear a voice say.

“She said no!” someone snarls. My eyelids are now too heavy to open, but whoever it is, his voice carries an authority that sends shivers down my spine. I know that voice from somewhere. I’m sure of it.

My heart races, pounding against my rib cage as if trying to escape the nightmare unfolding around me. I hear the sounds of a scuffle, the grunts and shouts muffled as if coming from underwater.

“Whoa, calm down, man! You can have a go after me,” Deacon retorts. It’s Deacon! My mind tries to zero in on the other voice. It’s a voice of power, of control, and it stirs something within me, a flicker of hope in the darkness.

The sound of a struggle intensifies, the thuds and crashes reverberating through the wagon. An aura so strong vibrates through the air, threatening to choke me with the sheer violence behind it, and I’m powerless to intervene.

My eyes flutter shut again, the effort to keep them open too much for my drugged body.

The darkness is all-consuming now, a suffocating void that seems to stretch on endlessly. I’m lost in it. I feel myself slipping away, the edges of my consciousness fraying and dissolving into nothingness.

Then, suddenly, a burst of light pierces the darkness, followed by a loud crash.

The wagon shakes violently, the sound of rattling glass and groaning metal filling the air.

There’s a final, decisive thud, and then silence. The oppressive weight of the situation lifts slightly, the air no longer thick with the threat of violence. I can sense someone else in the wagon now, a presence that is both comforting and terrifying in its intensity.

Gentle hands lift me, cradling me with a tenderness that is in stark contrast to the brutality of moments ago. Warmth of the person holding me, a sense of safety I cling too desperately.

“You’re safe now,” the voice murmurs, its tone soft and reassuring. “I’ve got you,

Cleo. You’re safe.”

I want to believe those words, to let them wash over me and take away the fear and pain. But the darkness is too strong, pulling me back under with an irresistible force. I surrender to it, letting it envelop me completely, the last remnants of consciousness fading away into oblivion.