Slasher (Brotherhood Series #2)

Tempest's Edge

Santiago

The moment Big Sam and I sat down at the bar, Shyanne noticed me. She made her way over, her steps slow and deliberate. As she approached, I caught her eyes widen slightly in what seemed like surprise, her eyelids fluttering for a brief moment.

"Are you in the mood for your regular drink today?" Shyanne asked, flashing me a warm smile. Her hair fell in soft waves around her face, and she twirled a strand absentmindedly as she waited for my response.

I could tell she remembered my usual order. The casual way she carried herself, combined with the gentle smile, suggested a familiarity between us. There was an easy, comfortable dynamic in the way she interacted with me.

I glanced at Big Sam, wondering if he had picked up on the same subtle nuances in Shyanne's mannerisms and tone. It was clear she was pleased to see me, though I couldn't quite place the reason behind the initial flicker of surprise on her face when our eyes had first met.

In the dimly lit haze of the strip club, the air thick with the scent of perfume and sweat, I give Shyanne a curt nod, lips pressed tightly together in an effort to mask my mounting frustration. Every nerve in my body feels alive with the pulsating ache in my loins, a relentless drumbeat of desire drowning out all rational thought.

Inside, the world seems to blur into a whirlwind of flashing lights and gyrating bodies. The music pounds against my eardrums, matching the erratic rhythm of my racing heart. I can feel the heat of the crowd pressing in around me, suffocating yet exhilarating.

But despite the enticing allure of the dancers, my focus remains singularly fixated on Shyanne. With each passing moment, the need to unleash this pent-up frustration grows more urgent, an insatiable hunger gnawing at my core.

Yet, amidst the chaos of the club, there's a strange sense of tranquility that washes over me as we make our way through the throngs of people. It's as if the weight of the world has been momentarily lifted from my shoulders, replaced by a fleeting sense of relief. And in that brief respite, I find myself clinging to the hope that soon, I'll be able to find release in Shyanne's embrace once more.

As Shyanne calls out my name amidst the pulsating rhythm of the background music, the thumping bass reverberates through the air, setting the stage for the scene unfolding before me. With a graceful motion, she presents the glass of Captain Morgan on the rocks, the ice clinking softly against the sides as she extends it towards me.

Meanwhile, in the dimly lit ambiance of the club, the rhythmic beat of the music serves as a backdrop to the mesmerizing sight of ladies dancing on poles. Their movements are hypnotic, the dim lights casting shadows that dance across the walls as they twirl and sway with fluidity and grace.

Against this backdrop of sensuality and excitement, Shyanne's wide smile illuminates her face, accentuated by the radiant glow of the club lights. Her teeth gleam brilliantly as she proudly displays her offering, a beacon of warmth and hospitality amidst the sultry atmosphere.

Amidst the pulsating music and swirling energy of the club, I feel a surge of anticipation mingled with the tightness in my chest, a physical manifestation of the desire building within me.

"And you're not in love?" My brother interjects, his tone laced with sarcasm, though a mischievous glimmer dances in his eyes, threatening to betray his facade.

The sound of Big Sam's Heineken bottle meeting the marble-topped bar counter reverberates through the room, a sharp clink that punctuates the air like an exclamation mark. The glossy wooden surface gleams under the dim lighting, reflecting the flickering glow of the neon signs overhead.