King of Hatred | BDSM

Prologue

Rowan's POV

Taking in all the exposed bodies in my proximity, I wonder how long this night will last. My adult club - Vixen - is always packed, but on themed nights like tonight, it feels slightly suffocating despite the headcount limit.

I have my guards all over the place, as usual, making sure no one feels uncomfortable in any kind of way, and it's a good sign that nothing has been reported to me yet.

Sometimes I take part in some of the scenes, but tonight I'm sitting in the bar area with my best friend and business partner, Damien, drinking a well-deserved whiskey after spending hours reviewing contracts.

"What about him?" Damien nods his head in the area of a man who's sitting at the leg of an older woman.

"Degradation, pain and bondage." I guess, taking part in our game where we guess other's kinks. My mouth twitches when the lady takes a sip of whatever is in her glass, leans forward, and slowly lets it drip into his mouth.

"Nailed it," Damien says dryly, and I just shrug.

"Been around these people for years, man, I'm hardly ever wrong."

"What about her, at the door? Seems like a newbie." My gaze shifts over to said place, and my body tenses immediately.

You are fucking kidding me.

My hand holds the whiskey tighter, lifting it to my lips and taking a big sip while taking her in for the first time in years. I want to say I forgot about her, but that would be a big fucking lie on my part since I think about her every day and all the ways I want to destroy her perfect little life.

I watch as she looks around the bar, her eyes sweeping over everyone in the room. I can see the shock on her face and I wonder if she's lost because she sure as hell looks like a lost little lamb, one I want to butcher. My fingers twitch with anticipation, waiting for the moment she finally notices me. I tilt my head, my eyes slowly sliding lower and lower on her body, and now I'm pretty fucking sure she's lost. Her clothes are normal, boring even and my lips curl with disgust.

Even though I'm not looking at her face I can tell the exact moment her eyes fall on me. Her body freezes, and when I return my gaze to hers, she looks like she might be sick. I smirk, silently daring her to come over here. Nervousness radiates from her as her chest rapidly rises and falls, her teeth nibbling on her lower lip. Her round eyes never leave my face, and I start to think she might be in shock since she's not even blinking. If I were a gentleman, I'd walk there and ask her if she's okay but thank fuck I'm very far from being one.

"I have a feeling you might know her." Damien chuckles and I know he's been looking at this silent stare contest between me and her.

"Oh, believe me, I wish I didn't," I growl quietly, my gaze never shifting from hers. I like the sight of anxiousness on her face way too much.

"Well, I think that's my clue." My friend stands up, downing the last bit of his whiskey before patting me on my shoulder and leaving.

"I'll call you tomorrow," I say to his back which earns me a wave over his shoulder.

Now back to my fixation at the other end of the room. She looks like she might shit herself, but I can see the moment she decides she's going to come over, and I can't hold back a smirk creeping up on my face. I've been waiting for this moment for years. I wanted revenge ever since she pushed me off the deep end, leaving me to suffer alone.

Here we fucking go.