Page 2 of Stalked By Pestilence

I’d been with him before. As much as I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea, he scratched all the right itches for tonight, and I couldn’t be picky. I wasn’t sure if another one worth it would come through, and I didn’t want to be out all night. I had a new person to become tomorrow.

I weighed my options before deciding.

“Fuck it.” I murmured a few affirmations to myself and readjusted the girls. “I’ll make sure to kick him out right after,” I promised New Emily.

Sometimes the only way these useless piles of muscly flesh got the message was when I made it damn clear what this was—a bit of fun. I didn’t mind a bed warmer for the night, but this one I’d already been with. He’d get the after-sex boot.

Navigating the crowd, I made the mistake of looking toward the stage. Normally the club didn’t do live bands, so it was a bit of a surprise to see one on a Wednesday night.

The redhead rocker wandered onto the makeshift platform. A couple others dressed like him followed at his heels. As soon as they were in place, the speakers boomed and the space was filled with a vicious rumble of a guitar. The drums racked the tempo into a constant, pounding beat. Then the base brought the mellow swagger a half-second later.

The pretty boy I was after caught sight of me, his blue eyes glinting in the shoddy club light. An eager smile spread across his mouth. “Well, well, look who it is. Lose my number or block me, gorgeous?”

I was momentarily distracted by my prey, nearly missing the singer grab the mic and step into the sole bright beam hitting the stage. This place wasn’t equipped for celebrity performances. The light washed his features to obscure things, making it impossible to see much of him, so I turned to reply to the guy I planned to punish tonight.

“What do you think, baby boy?”

A visible shudder ran through him. This one was well into his kinky life, and the tone I’d adopted put him right into that mammal brain of his. “I don’t care as long as you leave with me tonight,” he yelled over the wail of the guitar, leaning in so close his breath paintedmy face.

I snagged his ear and tugged. “Watch it, baby boy. I call all the shots here.”

His eyelashes fluttered helplessly, practically salivating at the harsh edge to my tone. “Yes, ma’am.”

I was about to tell him that I’d give him another shot for the night when the most gorgeous voice I’d ever heard carried across the room and drew my eyes back to the stage.

The singer’s rough, melodious timbre was a perfect pitch and sensuality with the lyrics he bellowed, and I found myself quieted by the rich rasp of his ballad before it was warped by emotion and carried into a chorus-shifting scream.

Shivers skated down my arms and spine. Fuck, it was so good, and I wasn’t really the girl who got all shivery over a song.

It was impossible to see the singer delivering the best performance I’d heard in my life, both on and off stage. The massive stream of light blocked everything identifiable about him without waiting for my eyes to adjust, and the quick glance I’d given him earlier didn’t give me much to go off of other than he’d clearly dyed his hair a vibrant fire-red.

It was a shame I was in such a rush tonight or I might’ve stayed for the rest of their songs.

I shook off the trance the sultry notes had put me into and beckoned Blue Eyes to come with me—I’d totally forgotten his name, but he’d be whoever the fuck I wanted him to be once I got him tied down to my bed.

Snatching my prey’s hand, we made our way out of the crowd suddenly swarming the stage.

I’d never seen so many women lose their shit collectively, not since Asha and I saw that band just out of high school. I wasn’treally the girl who went to concerts. Asha was, so I went to a couple for her, but it’d been years.

Still, I couldn’t help the curious glance I cast at the stage as we reached the exit, a little bummed I couldn’t stick around.

The singer was no longer drowned out by light, and this dude must’ve had a serious pain fetish with as many tattoos and piercings as he had. The songbird was hotter than anyone I’d encountered in town. Hotter than I’d encountered abroad. There was just something about him.

Too bad I had a strict no band boy policy. One in college had left a bad taste in my mouth, and I didn’t humor another after that.

My eyes snagged on his glowing yellow gaze. I’d never seen contacts do that, but then again, I didn’t meet many cosplaying singers either. And meet was a strong word. I was just staring at this one.

Speaking of which…

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was staring directly back. Girls went crazy for that sort of thing, convinced they’d bedazzled the frontman of a band with a mere flutter of their eyelashes. Total bullshit, of course, but I wasn’t the type to trample on a girl’s dream.

Unfortunately for me, I lived in the real world. Asha might believe in supernatural happenings, like birds following her everywhere she went and a ghost wandering around our apartment every night, affecting her dreams, but I wasn’t convinced. I focused on the fantasies I could control.

Ready to get said fantasy underway, I cut my eyes away and led Blue Eyes out of the club. We made it to the sidewalk before I realized I’d left my phone in the bathroom.

“Shit.” I checked my bag again.

“What’s up?”