Doubled over, Torren gritted his teeth as the music started. But the second he saw her—Candace—the pain went away.
She looked so different from the girl he’d met earlier. And it wasn’t just the purple, sparkly eyeshadow or the shining glitter that adorned her body. It wasn’t her dark hair in cascading waves down the middle of her back or the heavy eyeliner. It wasn’t the black, lacy bra or matching panties or the red satin high heels with a trail of cheap rhinestones winding around the sharp heel. It was her eyes that looked different. She’d flipped a switch.
Torren would recognize that look anywhere. He saw it often enough when he looked at his reflection in the mirror after a fight. Face all bloodied, he would stare at himself and wait for the vacant look to go away.
He could tell right now that Candace didn’t see anything as she made her way to the stage, shoulders back like she had all the pride and confidence in the world.
There were wolf-whistles and cheers around them, but Torren ignored the animals in the smoky bar. His focus was on her. Because he didn’t give a single shit that she was a dancer. He really didn’t. If this profession made her happy, or even if she was good with it and secure in her place in the world, he would be fine with it, too. He was open-minded. She hadn’t smelled sad earlier, so he’d expected to come in here and see her smiling and working the crowd. What he hadn’t expected was the grim set to her mouth, like she was clenching her teeth, or the ghosts in her eyes as she leapt up onto the pole and spun around it like a goddamn acrobat. Her eyes focused on nothing, as if she’d checked out and was going through the motions.
Torren angled his face and narrowed his eyes, studying her. She looked confident enough in her movements, completely owned the stage, so why had she gone empty on the inside?
He looked around at the men, bobbing their heads to the pounding bass beat. Tongues slid across teeth, and buddies leaned over to each other and said vulgar things. A dozen or so men crowded the edge of the stage. And he got it. Candace was the prettiest girl in here by far. Hell, she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, dressed like this or dressed in her skinny jeans and red sweater and snow boots.
The men were reaching for her, and she played the crowd, danced for them, but avoided their hands when they wanted to put money in her panties. Good girl. If they touched her, Torren was going to rip their fucking heads off, one by one.
He tossed back his beer and downed it.
“Don’t Change,” Vyr rumbled in that dragon voice that terrified normies, but not Torren. Vyr was his best friend. He wouldn’t hurt him. Even out of control, the Red Dragon had always saved him from his burning fire.
When Torren clenched his empty beer bottle, it broke in his hand. It stung, but he ignored it. Warmth trickled down his fingers, but still he ignored it. He couldn’t take his eyes off Candace. God, she was so fucking beautiful. So sexy. She was a really good dancer, better than this place deserved. Whoever had choreographed this had real talent. She was flexible and naturally graceful. She wasn’t just throwing her hips around either. She was on the pole with skill, then back down to the floor, doing moves that should’ve only made sense in some fancy-ass ballet, but it worked with this hard-hitting rock song somehow.
“She’s beautiful, ain’t she?” the guy a couple seats down asked. When Torren didn’t answer, he tried again, louder. “She’s a beauty, ain’t she?”
“Yeah,” Torren growled out.
“Total prude though, so if you have plans on getting a private dance from that one, she won’t do it. She never gives lap dances, much less goes back to that private room. No one’s allowed to touch her either. I think it’s part of her show. She gets everyone addicted, thinking they can be the one to entice her to be bad. She only ever gets the money the boys leave on the stage. Shame. She’s the star here. She could make four times what she does, easy. Fuck, I would pay her four times if she would give in just once.” The man had long greasy hair and yellow teeth, and though his words were friendly enough, there was a predator in his smile.
Torren scanned the rest of the guys in the room, and they all wore matching expressions as they watched Candace dance.
“Don’t. Change.” Vyr was getting on his damn nerves with the orders.
By the time the song ended, his body was humming with the power of the subdued silverback inside of him. He wanted to go King Kong and let the monster have him, rip this place apart brick-by-brick. He wanted to bury these guys for even looking at Candace like they owned her. Fuckers didn’t understand. This kitty was wild, and men couldn’t own wild things.
She was a prude? Nah, she was just smart to keep their paws off her. She was giving up an income she was clearly desperate for so she could keep herself intact. So she could keep the good things about herself. So she could survive this. He imagined some people didn’t. Not really. They kept breathing, sure, but a profession like this would make them numb inside. They would flip that switch a thousand too many times and one day not remember how to turn it back on. They would stay numb. Candace was trying to be okay. These assholes didn’t care about that, though. To them, these girls were playthings. They were only here on this earth to be stared at, whistled at, grabbed at.
Fucking humans. If they even knew what resided inside of Candace, they wouldn’t be staring at her like they had the upper hand. Her tiger could end any of their lives with zero effort. And look at her…eyes still soft. They hadn’t changed color at all. She smelled like fur and perfume like she was trying to cover her animal scent, but Torren could smell a big cat shifter from anywhere.
She was in such tight control. Sexy Wildcat. They were opposite. He couldn’t manage his animal at all, and this woman had learned to tame the damn beast inside of her. And she wasn’t submissive either. That tiger wasn’t hiding. She was like a trained animal in the circus, and Candace was the best ringmaster he’d ever seen.
And suddenly, he had a moment where he wished she could save him. Where he wished she could train his silverback like she’d trained her tiger. Ring master, ring master, he wished to God she could be his ring master.
“Hey,” the guy next to him called to Candace as she bent to pick up the money that was scattered around the edge of the stage.
She’d used those same hands to scoop snow to throw at him earlier. She’d used those same hands to play. He’d pinned that hand to the counter as he’d pressed his dick into her back and nearly came just from touching her. And now she was picking up money from these assholes. How had she gotten here?
“Hey!” the guy next to him called again as he sifted through the piles of dollar bills. “I put a twenty down instead of a ten. I want it back.”
“No, you didn’t,” Vyr said in the cool voice that said he was pissed and trying not to show it. “I watched you. You put a five down.”