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If you missed the Prologue, click here. Otherwise, here is another scene from about the 2nd chapter... The scene is told from Slater's POV.
I finished my mug of wine and poured another, emptying the bottle. I moved to the more comfortable couch, set the mug on the coffee table and looked around. I’d been waiting for this moment for so long but hadn’t formed a plan for once it came. I wanted to punish her, and I would. Hell, I needed to do it. It was just that being in the same room with her, it felt different than I’d expected.
“Stand up.”
“What?”
“Stand up.”
She pushed herself off the chair and stood barefoot, wearing just the emerald-green dress and a pair of earrings.
“Put your glasses on the table.”
She did, and I stared at her eyes, strange in their different colors but beautiful. I still remembered them clearly from just that one night.
“Take your hair out of the braid.” I settled back against the couch cushions, my legs wide, hands in my lap.
A look of confusion crossed her face, but her hands moved, fingers clumsily working the woven hair loose.
“Shake it out, like you did last night.”
She froze, her eyes glossy again. “It was you, wasn’t it? In the parking lot.”
I nodded. “And inside.”
She swallowed. “What are you going to do to me?”
“I said shake it out. That’s twice now. You sure you don’t have a hearing problem?”
She put her hands in her hair and shook out the waves.
I pressed my lips together and shook my head. “No. Not like that. Like last night on the stage. Or do you need dollar bills stuffed into your panties to do that?”
The look in her eyes screamed hurt.
Good.
She did as I said, shaking out her hair, something seductive in the way she moved now. This was natural for her. Her body, her face, her mouth, her eyes—eroticism clung to her. That’s why the hush when she’d stood onstage to dance last night. They’d all felt it, just as I had.
When she straightened, she looked more like she had last night.
“You wear contacts when you’re dancing to hide your eyes?”
She nodded. Anyone would recognize her by her eyes, no matter what she had on—or didn’t.
“Where’s the red lipstick?”
“I don’t have it here. It’s at the club.”
“Hmm.” I watched her, enjoying her discomfort. “Dance.”
She stood unmoving, staring. “I…” she started. “I can’t.”
“You can and you will. I want it slow.”
“Please, I can pay you. I don’t have much, maybe a thousand dollars in cash. I can get—”
“Dance.”
She studied me for a few moments, searching my eyes. I took off my jacket, and she shifted her gaze to my arms, full-sleeve tattoos on both. When I’d discovered how much the buzz of the needle, the prickling pain of it, soothed me, I had gotten addicted fast.
I settled back again and gestured for her to continue.
“I need music.”
“Then put it on.”
She looked around. “My purse. It’s at Lydia’s house. My phone is in there, and it’s the only way to work the stereo system. I can run over. I’ll be right back.”
She actually took two steps toward the door, which was fucking hilarious. As if I’d let her out of my sight now. No, that wasn’t happening. Not until she understood her new situation.
“I guess you’ll dance without music, then.”
“But—”
I got to my feet, and she pulled in on herself but remained within reach. I touched her face with the knuckles of one hand. She braced herself. Did she think I’d slap her? Hit her? I’d do other things, but I wouldn’t physically harm her. I stroked her hair, then gripped it and tugged her head back. Stooping, I brought my forehead to hers to make sure she could see my eyes.
“MacKayla, this isn’t a fucking game. I’ve been searching for you for three fucking years. Do you really think I’m about to let you out of my sight? You think you can just walk away?”
I jerked the handful of hair, and she pressed her hands against my chest.
“Tell me what you think. You’re a clever girl, aren’t you? Tell me.”
“No,” she squeaked.
“No, you’re not clever, or no, I won’t let you walk away?”
“You won’t let me walk away.”
“That’s right.” I looked down at her, her eyes uncertain, and shiny with tears. Something bugged me. It had since I’d found out my lying wife had set me up. Mackayla Simone was seductive and sexy as fuck. I saw how those men reacted to her last night. Even at the bar all those years ago, when she’d walked in, hell, everyone’s head had turned. But she wasn’t a whore. I knew that. It would be easier if she were, but she wasn’t.
I released her, and she rubbed her scalp.
“Why did you do it? Five grand. That’s not a lot of money anymore.”
She studied me, her struggle to contain her tears obvious.
"Just tell me why." I retreated a step, giving her space. "You owe me that much."
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Blurb
Slater
Everything I believed was a lie. Everything except for her, the one person I blamed for it all.
MacKayla Simone was beautiful. She was sexy as hell. She was also the setup.
One night.
Sex that rocked my world.
Rocked it to its very foundations because the next thing I knew, she and I made the headlines of every paper, every news channel across the country, and it cost me everything.
But that wasn’t the worst of it. That came when I learned who was behind the setup. That was when I understood what it meant to be destroyed absolutely.
I don’t know why I went after MacKayla. She’d been a pawn just like me. But it was all I could do, all I had left. Hell, it was the one thing keeping me from tumbling into the abyss and never coming back into the light.
Find her. Find the girl who’d fucked me. Find her and make her pay.
MacKayla
I didn’t know who Slater Vaughn was, but if I had, it wouldn’t have mattered. Not when my sister was in trouble. I would have done what I did anyway. You can judge me. You can call me a whore. But I would have done it anyway.
One night, they’d said. Make him want you, let him have you. Easiest money in the world for just one night of my life.
Only it wasn’t one night because that night obliterated Slater Vaughn, and he came after me. He told me I owed him, and truthfully, I did. Hell, maybe those years in hiding, I’d been waiting for him to find me. To punish me. To make me pay.
Maybe I sought his forgiveness all along.
But now that he had me, how far would he take this game? Slater Vaughn was a broken man. He had nothing left to lose. What was to keep him from taking me with him into his darkness?
Writing characters is always interesting for me. I feel like I never know how people will turn out. In the case of Marcus in Claimed by the Beast, one of the words I'd use to describe him is dirty. There's something so utterly sexy about that. The scene below exemplifies that for me...
