Allison

I blow out a shaky breath as I lean against the unforgiving stucco wall of the hotel. All around me people are bustling about their business despite the moon adorning the sky instead of cheery sunshine.

My feet are bare, my pulse is racing, and confusion and embarrassment course through me vying for control.

What just happened?

I think again. I would almost think it was a dream except the bare skin of my arms and legs seems to tingle and yearn to be touched. To be stroked. What is happening to my body? It's as if I'm no longer in control.

I look up at the full moon hanging in the inky blue of the night sky, and an answering pulse of desire stirs within me, threatening to break free again.

"Hey."

I whip around to face Warner as he comes out of the sliding glass doors of the lobby with his arms in the air in a placating position, and to my relief he stops a few feet from me.

My black converse are dangling in one hand, and he has my door key and wallet in the other. I feel my heart melt just a little bit despite my self.

This man is so confusing.

"Hey," I murmur, not meeting his gaze as my throat constricts just a little bit. "Sorry about uh earlier. I'm not feeling so well I guess."

My face burns and I feel lightheaded with embarrassment that is well deserved. I basically attacked him after all.

And he pushed me away.

I ignore the insidious little voice in my head and accept the shoes and wallet, shoving my door key in to my pants pocket. "You went through my stuff," I can't help but jab a little bit as I plop down on to the cement sidewalk to pull on my shoes.

"Well," I can hear the laugh in his voice, but I don't sense any malice, "You did run out pretty quickly, and I figured you would need it for our night out."

"Night out?" I question, standing up to face him once more, feeling slightly better that he was obviously not going to make me explain myself.

Not that I could.

"Yeah," he says studying me more seriously, crossing his arms, "I have a friend I think I'd like you to meet." He cocks his head endearingly to one side and does that disarming little smirk that causes my heart to thump painfully in my chest.

"Do you know what's wrong with me?" I blurt out, not really caring about social conventions at this point.

Something weird is going on here, and Warner is clearly in on the big picture. Hopefully not anything like a town that puts ecstasy in its water or something, but what other explanation could there be?

He winces at my question however and suddenly seems cagey to answer, "It's a little more complicated than that Allison. Its not a question that I can answer," he reaches out one hand and slips it into my own carefully. As if seeing if I am going to run away.

But the opposite is true. The sensation of his warm skin in my small hand makes me feel ever so compliant.

"At least not yet," He amends tugging me closer. "Come with me, come meet my friend and perhaps we can find out together."

I follow him willingly, a little more so than I probably should be considering meeting a mysterious friend of a stranger has ended badly for more than one girl in the past.

And yet I feel curiously safer with him, his large hand wrapped around my own, than I did sitting against the wall mourning the loss of my dignity alone.

"Where are we going?" I question, looking around like a wide-eyed child at everything as we stroll down what I would assume to be the main street of the town.

All around me the more commercial businesses have melted away in to something more of an entertainment district. There are bars and movie theaters lining the streets and people mill about laughing and shrieking with glee all around us.

Several people raise hands in greeting to Warner, and I am again reminded that despite its oddity it is still a small town.

I wonder if one day people will smile and wave at me walking down the street. If I decide to stay that is.

"Hey Warner, my man what's up?!" I tear my gaze away from a glowing neon sign to the newcomer that stepped in to our path. He has shockingly black hair and almost translucent pale skin with bushy eyebrows that make me wince.

He sports the same gorgeous amber eyes that Warner has however, and I wonder if somehow they are related despite their jarring melanin difference.

Casting a furtive look at me that I pretend not to notice, he steps towards his friend without dropping my hand and leans in to murmur quietly to the man.

I catch hushed bits and pieces of the conversation while I pretend to examine the people around us. The name Loric catches on the breeze and for some reason I shiver hearing it.

There is something dangerous in that name, dangerous and yet some how familiar.

"Ok," Warner says straightening up abruptly, "Ill check there first then. Thanks brother."

He does that weird masculine handshake thing that men do and then tugs me along once more. The man stays rooted to the spot on the sidewalk watching us as we go .

"So who's Loric?" I ask conversationally.

Around us a few people within hearing distance seem to suddenly give us a wider berth, or I am going crazy?Which I probably am considering how the past twenty four hours have been going.

Warner, to his credit, doesn't even stumble at the casual admission of my eavesdropping. Instead he tightens his grip on my hand infinitesimally and says, "He is a good friend of mine, kind of a father figure really."

He doesn't elaborate any more than that, and I lose my opportunity to grill him further when he suddenly pulls us to a stop.

I open my mouth to ask him another question when I see it. A red brick building had been lining the street across from us, but now a bar occupies the corner space.

It's trimmed in dark spruce with a sign that says 'The Crimson Glass' hanging above the heavy double glass paned doors.

Next to The Crimson Glass is a small alley and then what looks like another bar in direct competition, though where the first is dark and staid, the other seems loud and lively with flashing purple and blue neon lights casting their glow over endless glass windows covered in light silky curtains.

Both places are wildly popular it seems as there is a standing line coming out of the door of both with lots of people running in and out in carefree drunken stupors.

"You know I'm only nineteen right?" I ask with an unsure glance towards Warner who nods and smiles softly.

"That isn't a problem here. I promise I won't buy you anything that will hinder your senses, Allison." Warner speaks with a hint of amusement in his tone. Is he subtly jabbing me for trying to bed him earlier?

I bite my lip and redirect my attention to the bars in front of us, eagerly awaiting to no longer be alone with Warner. Alone is proving dangerous.

"So which one are we going in to?" I ask to change the subject, excited about the prospect of a little clubbing.

I've been on the road for what seems like forever, with little chance to go out and see the places I'd ridden through, so everything feels fresh and new.

Warner gives me an odd look, and I try to tamp down a bit on my glee, "My friend is in the Crimson Glass." He appears to hesitate, "It's usually a pretty reputable place,  but apparently there has been a...a rough crowd in there tonight so be careful and stick close to me ok?"

He tugs me a little closer and I don't need to look into his eyes to know the command was there. My insides do a little flip when he releases my hand, and his fingers trail up the bare skin on my arm to wrap around my shoulders as he leads me across the street and inside.

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My finger traces the rim of the water glass in front of me for the millionth time as I look up and scan the area around me.

After Warner had found me a corner seat next to the wall at the bar he had promptly disappeared into the crowd and up the stairs marked 'employees only' with assurances that he would be right back with all the answers to my questions.

He also told me not to get up or accept a drink from anyone, and to seek him out if any trouble arises.

Too bad I didn't even know what questions I had. Everything seems wrong, like I have lost control of my own life and something is pushing me forward that I can't fight. A force so powerful I can't even turn around.

I want to know what was going on, sure. But it has been like that since the day I snuck out of my last foster parents house and hit the road determined to live life on my terms. Too bad my terms was really code for sleeping in old gas station bathrooms and hitching rides with weird handsome men who may or may not be able to mind control.

Mind control. Now I know I must be insane.

I push my glass away suddenly and try to seek out Warner's tall frame in the mass of bodies and revelry around me. From behind me I hear a voice cut through the bumping of the speakers, "You need anything else?"

It's the bartender looking a little worse for wear as she struggles to keep up with the massive amount of alcohol flowing through the bar as people dance and drink themselves into oblivion.

"No," I yell over the music trying to attempt a smile. "I'm good! I'm underage to drink anyways." She nods and smiles knowingly at me.

"Are you guys always this busy?" I ask, gesturing at the party going on around me, "I mean what are we celebrating? Is it someone famous' birthday or something? It might as well be mardi gras in here."

She throws her head back and laughs before leaning back in, "Well its Ellenwood's style of Mardi Gras," She answers. "It's the Summer Solstice, and folks around here usually use that as a good excuse to party as any." She shrugs in a what can you do kind of way and another patron catches her attention so she heads down to the other end of the bar with a nod to me.

This town is so weird.

I'm mulling over this new bit of information when a sudden scuffle breaks out behind me. A swaying man with olive toned skin and a messy head of wavy black hair seems to be arguing with a couple of bouncers, although growling might actually be a more accurate description.

I can't hear what's happening, but they make a move towards him and he crouches down like some kind of animal waiting to spring as a girl tugs frantically on the sleeve of his shirt, attempting to calm him down.

As I watch I swear I see his eyes flash black, and not like black pupil black-more like full on demon possession go get the holy water black. It was only a second, but I swear I saw it and suddenly the bouncers converge on him while the girl shrieks.

More people are paying attention now, pressing in to get closer to the action while they laugh and jeer. The sounds feel all too loud to me, and all at once the smells of sweaty bodies, too much perfume, and alcohol assault my nose.

And something else.

Something metallic, pungent, and oddly familiar.

Blood?

Abruptly I feel incredibly sick to my stomach surrounded by all these people and smells. I stand up and sway slightly before pushing desperately through the throng of people before I throw up on dozens of party goers like a bad exorcism.

I'm going crazy.

I must be. And if I'm not then maybe I'm in a lot more trouble than I realized because that man definitely was not human.

I make it out through the side door that led to the tiny little alley and the first breath of fresh night air brings the smell of stale garbage and old food.

My stomach immediately lurches, and I barely make it to the side of the dumpster before it lets loose.

"Jeezus, you alright there darlin'?"

I can't quite stand up yet so instead I brace one hand on my knee and wave noncommittally behind me. "Fine," I gasp to the male voice trying not to breathe through my nose, "just not feeling so great I guess."

My head feels thick and fuzzy as I struggle to form a coherent thought through the urge to purge my whole stomach and at least a few other vital organs.

"Well shoot, Crimson's glasses will do that to you." He giggles as if he made a hilarious joke, and I note his voice is a little slurred. Then a fresh wave of nausea rolls through me, and I groan.

My hands go to clutch my stomach as I lean against the dumpster for support. My head is pounding now, like a heartbeat hammering through my brain and splintering it with every pulse.

"Eh, well it'd be a shame to leave a pretty girl like you here in a state like this. Yes it would." I feel a strong hand clutch my elbow and he clucks disapprovingly at me when I close my eyes and let him lead me back towards the door to go inside.

"You really ought to be more careful you know, getting this drunk. Never know what kinds of things prowl around at night that you might bump in to."

"I wasn't drinking," I moan, feeling light headed, my legs weak and shaky. "I think im just sick."

"Well," he drawls at me, "I reckon it'll all work out the same for me."

My eyes fly open suddenly taking in what is happening, and I realize he isn't leading me towards the door but rather deeper into the alley.

Straightening up swiftly, I turn to him, yanking my elbow out of his grasp as adrenaline punches through the hammering in my head.

"Let go of m-"

The blow to my head is completely unexpected and it knocks me to the ground while stars appear behind my eyes. I struggle to remember how to take a breath as the pain scorches through my nervous system.

He is on me a second later, one meaty hand pressing against my mouth to muffle my scream as he uses his body weight to hold me down to the dirty cement below me.

With his free hand he is pawing at the button of my shorts trying to force them down, trying to shove his hand inside and bruising tender skin in the process.

I snarl deep in my throat and bite down hard on his hand while bucking wildly with my body. I vaguely hear him yelp and then he backhands me before making a grab for my wrists to hold me down more firmly.

Instead, I ram my head forward head butting him with everything I have. Ignoring my body's screaming pain, I rear back for another blow when his hands wrap around my throat and squeeze.

"Yeah," he pants, and I can feel how excited this makes him, "You like that bitch? Im gonna make you pay for this, you broke my damn nose!"

I taste blood in my mouth, but I fight harder. Twisting and turning in his grasp, breaking his hold on my throat, trying to force his hateful body away from mine, but he is so much stronger.

A low sob works its way through my chest. I try to drag enough ragged air in to my lungs to let out a good-sized shriek but it's no use, even I can tell it can't make it past the pulsing music spilling out from the clubs on either side of us.

He doubles down his efforts, and then his hands are everywhere. Touching, grabbing, squeezing. I can't seem to fight him off fast enough as panic saps my energy.

Then abruptly empty air replaces his heavy weight, and he is gone. The sound of snarling and a blood thirsty cry snaps my hazy vision towards the source of the calamity.

My grey eyes struggle to focus, but when they do I see him and fear pulses through me even more vigorously than it had done before.

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