Chapter 6

LEON'S POV

The laptop was a heavy, plastic weight against my ribs, a shield I hoped would hide the fact that my heart was trying to kick its way out of my chest.

I stood at the threshold of “Bow Den” though the neon sign just looked like a blurry pink smear through my fever.

Homosexuality is a sin. Desire is a bottomless abyss. My father’s voice was a broken record in my head, loud and grating.

But the guy on the other end of the encrypted chat? He was a different kind of monster. If those photos went public, my father wouldn't just preach to me, I would be on the next plane out of the country and towards my life of celibacy.

“Not unless I run away though,” I murmured, half-teasingly.

I pushed the door open, and the bass hit me like a physical punch to the stomach.

“Holy hell,” I wheezed, the air thick with sweat and expensive cologne.

Two guys were pressed against a pillar near the entrance, eating each other's faces like they forgot people could actually see them. On the raised platform, a boy in heavy glitter and eyeliner was arching his back, letting a dozen random hands leave red marks on his pale skin.

My pulse spiked. The stuff I wrote in my private notebooks... it was nothing compared to this. It was amateur hour.

“First time, sweetie?”a guy in a mesh shirt yelled over the EDM, leaning into my personal space. “You look like you're about to faint or puke. Maybe both.”

“I'm fine,” I snapped, though my voice cracked. “Just... move. Get out of my way.”

“Feisty. I like that. You looking for a seat, or are you looking for me?”He hissed the words, his eyes crawling down my button-down shirt. His gaze snagged on my waist, then dropped lower, lingering where my trousers met my hips.

I went rigid. I wasn't wearing any underwear, according to the instructions, and I felt like I was standing there stark naked. Every draft of cold AC felt like a hand touching me.

“I said move,”I growled, trying to sound tougher than I felt.

“Check out the attitude on this one!” the man laughed, whistling low. “Hey, you sure you don't want a drink? You're shaking like a leaf, kid. I could show you a real good time in the back. No charge for a face like yours.”

“Get lost, you creep!” I shoved past him, my skin crawling where his sleeve brushed mine.

“Suit yourself, prick! You’re missing out!”

I ignored him, stumbling deeper into the neon chaos. My skin felt like it was simmering. Every person who brushed against me sent a jolt of nausea through my system. I wasn't looking for a ‘good time.’ I was looking for a blackmailer, though I figured anyone in this place was probably just as twisted as the guy I was meeting.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I fumbled for it, nearly dropping my laptop.

Unknown: Second floor. Room 201. Stop looking so pathetic, I can see your knees shaking from here.

My head whipped up. He was watching. He was right here, somewhere in the dark, laughing at me. I scanned the railing of the mezzanine, my eyes stinging. And then I saw it. A varsity jacket. Blond hair that caught the strobe lights like spun gold.

“Damian?” I whispered.

The name felt like a sin in this place. Damian was perfect. He wouldn't be here, not in a place like this. He was pure. But as I watched, the figure by the railing turned slightly and then vanished into the hallway of the second floor.

‘No way,” I gritted out, my teeth starting to chatter. “No way in hell. It can't be him.”

I forced my legs to move, taking the stairs two at a time. My lungs were burning like I’d swallowed hot coals. Halfway up, a waiter tried to stop me.

“Hey, kid, you okay? You look like you need to sit down somw...”

“Get off me!” I yelled, shoving his hand away. “I'm fine! Just leave me alone!”

“Alright. Fine, jeez! Go die on the second floor then!”

By the time I hit the landing, the hallway was empty. The fever was winning now; the walls were starting to breathe, pulsing in time with the music downstairs. My vision was blurring into streaks of pink and blue.

I forced myself toward Room 201. Every step was a struggle against the draft between my legs. The lack of fabric against my skin was a constant, humiliating reminder of why I was here.

It can’t be him, I told myself, clutching the laptop tighter. Damian is kind. He’s the only person who doesn't look at me like I’m a freak. He wouldn't make me come here like this. He wouldn't make me... not wear clothes. He's not that cruel.

But there he was. Just as I turned the corner, I saw the back of that varsity jacket. He was standing right in front of the door to 201, his hand on the knob.

“Damian... please... tell me it's not you,” I choked out, but the words were too quiet to carry over the muffled beat of the club.

My head spun. The hallway tilted forty-five degrees to the left. I reached out for the wall, but my fingers missed the wallpaper. As the floor rushed up to meet me, a single, delirious thought bubbled up through the blackness: If it really is him... if Damian wants to fuck me... I think I’d let him.

Then, the world turned off

***

Light. Too much light.

I groaned, the sound coming out as a dry, jagged rasp. “Ah... ow... damn it…”

My eyes flickered open to an unfamiliar ceiling. It wasn't the bar. It was a hotel room,quiet, sterile, and smelling faintly of bleach and cologne.

I tried to sit up, but a white-hot spike of pain shot up my spine from my lower back. I hissed, falling back against the pillows.

“What... what happened?” I muttered, my voice sounding like I'd been screaming for hours.

The sheets slid down as I moved. I froze.

I was naked. Completely. Not even the shirt I'd been wearing was on my back.

“No,” I breathed, the nerves in my brain clearing just enough for the ache to register. My waist felt like it had been crushed, and there was a localized, stinging throb that made my stomach flip. My body felt heavy, used, and utterly broken.

I rolled out of bed, my legs nearly giving out, and staggered toward the vanity mirror. I stopped, my breath hitching in my throat as I saw the reflection.

“I was... I was raped.’

I trailed my fingers over the marks on my body.

My collarbone was a mess of deep purple hickeys.

My chest looked like it had been a canvas for someone’s teeth.

But it was my inner thighs that made me let out a shaky, excited sigh.

There were dark, finger-shaped bruises burned into the skin, showing exactly where someone had pinned me down and forced my legs apart.

“Damian…” I whispered to the empty room. “He did it.”

I sank to the floor, my mind flashing back to that varsity jacket. Damian. It had to be him. He was the last thing I saw. He’d seen me collapse and he’d taken me, used me, and marked me like his.

My phone was on the nightstand, lying face up. I grabbed it with trembling fingers, my vision blurring with excitement.

Unknown: You got the wrong guy, babe. Consider that a little punishment for being so easily distracted. Next time, follow the rules.

“What??” I blurted out, my heart sinking as the phone slipped from my hand, clattering against the hardwood floor

It wasn't Damian? I wondered, suddenly feeling completely stunned.