Page 46 of Lilacs and Leather
Mateo holds me close, his thigh slipping between mine as my arm hooks around his neck. I can barely smell Mateo in the crowd, even pressed against him. His lemonade scent floats among others: cherries, patchouli, verbena, motor oil, pine tar, yeast. I try to breathe through my mouth, but the scent of tobacco hits me, and I squeeze my eyes against the images that flood my mind.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” Darren snarls, fist in my hair.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I squeak, keeping my eyes down.
He drags me away from the wall before pushing me back, and it knocks the air out of me for a moment. His scent of clay and tobacco chokes me as I try to get my lungs to cooperate again.
“You’re just a dirty, unnatural, lying slut, aren’t you? I know all about the girl at the party, my petal. About how you danced, and how she touched you. And how youlikedit,” he shouts, his hand coming up to my throat and forcing my chin up to look into my eyes.
“It was just a dance, Darren,” I whimper, tears escaping my eyes.
“I’m out of town for one fucking weekend, and you find the first opportunity to sneak out. You’re such a pathetic whore, you know that. Can’t even go three days without something in your cunt, can you.” He spits in my face, the splatter of his saliva worse than his words.
“I’m sorry,” I sob, trying to shrink under his gaze.
“‘I’m sorry,’ what, omega,” he snarls.
“I’m sorry, Alpha?” I whimper, exposing my neck.
“An omega like you should be grateful for an alpha like me. Especially a slutty bitch like you, willing to fuck anything.”
“Yes, Alpha. Thank you, Alpha.”
“Good. Now get down and put that whore’s mouth to better use.”
“You smell so fucking good, baby.”
Mateo’s voice pulls me back, and I press my face to his shoulder, inhaling a deep lungful of his scent. The sharp, clean smell of ozone fills my nose, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. My chest feels tight, and the room is suddenly blazing. Mateo’s face is buried in my neck, his cheek rubbing against me. The crowd closes in around me, the pounding of the bass in my ears too loud. My skin is crawling, and I press closer to Mateo, his citrus and lightning scent the only thing that makes sense.
“Get me out of here,” I breathe, my throat tight.
He pulls back, face pulled into lines of concern. I don’t give him time to inspect me, to see the rising tide of panic in my eyes. I pull him down by the back of his neck, my lips claiming his. Mateo tastes like summer: lemonade and afternoon storms. The kiss is brutal, a clash of lips and teeth and tongues, but the taste of him and the feel of his hands makes the noise in my head disappear for a moment.
“Where do you want to go?” he rasps, and I feel the words against my mouth more than I hear them.
“Anywhere. I just need to be anywhere but here,” I reply, digging my nails into his scalp. Maybe he would read my need to get out of my head, as well as out of this club, in my eyes.
Mateo kisses me again, a quick but intense meeting of lips before pulling me off the dancefloor and out of the club. Out on the street, the night air is humid, and I feel sticky with sweat that doesn’t seem to go away as we walk down the sidewalk away from the entrance and toward the parking lot. I veer toward Mateo’s car, but he tugs on my hand, stopping me. I turn back toward him, frowning in confusion. To my surprise, Mateo’s smile is gentle, eyes soft and body relaxed.
“Come on. I want to show you something,” he says, nodding off down the street.
I look around, but the only other people are too busy heading into Freddy’s to notice us. I nod hesitantly, moving to Mateo’s side. I look around, still feeling jumpy and clammy, each shadow making me tense. Mateo doesn’t speak but lets go of my hand to slide an arm around my waist, pulling me to his side. He adjusts his stride to match mine, even as I let him lead us along the dark city streets.
“Where are we going?” I ask after a while, keeping my voice low.
“Somewhere special, I promise. Only a handful of people know about this, which reminds me.”
Mateo stops, and his arm pulls me to a halt as well. I look up into his face, and I furrow my brow at the suddenly serious expression he’s wearing. He glances around, and I mirror the action. We’ve walked half a dozen blocks from the club and left the noise and bustle behind. The buildings are thinning out, not as tall here. When I look back at Mateo’s face, his tawny eyes glint mischievously in the orange glow of the streetlights.
“What I’m about to show you only works because no one knows about it. Promise me you won’t tell a soul, not even Rhett,” Matt says emphatically.
“Mateo, what are—”
“Promise me, Lydia,” Mateo pushes, cutting across me.
I pause, looking at him skeptically. He promised to not let anything happen to me, and he’s held up his end of the bargain so far. His scent is bright with lemons and sugar, despite the serious set to his brow.
“It’s not illegal, is it?” I whisper, looking around again.