ℭ𝔥𝔦𝔞𝔯𝔞 𝔄𝔯𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔦:
She dreams of finding a heartwarming prince charming who'll cherish her like a princess. Someone who'll embrace her tightly with love and passion. But everything shatters when her parents set her up to marry a psychopath-A...
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T/W⚠️
[Mention ofdetailed (?) Violence]
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The raw feeling of vodka climaxing down my throat snapped me to attention, heightening my senses.
The crimson glow of the club gave off an intimate atmosphere in the building. The disgusting creatures around me had their eyes fastened on the half naked women dancing around poles to entertain man whores. Alcohol and sweat was the only scent established in this god forbidden place.
I was seated on one of the barstools around the huge bar area, nursing my drink. But my eyes were on a specific individual. One who looks oddly suspicious for a living. Mainly my fathers right hand. Olezka
If I kill this guy, will my father be right hand-less?
I felt a hand creep up my thigh, slowly taking place on my crotch. My jaw instantly stiffened as my eyes landed on a girl. She had long silky hair that reached the small of her back. The red dress she was wearing was hugging her curves in a way snakes would want to drink the poison the woman possessed. Eyeshadow was painted darkly on her eyelids making her fox formed eyes look more seductive than they already are.
"What's a handsome looking man like you doing here?" The woman grinned sharply, leaning into my touch.
I want to physically wipe the ass smelling perfume she is wearing–that was staining to my fucking skin.
I encircled my fingers around her wrist–purposely gripping it harder than necessary–and pulling it off me. "That sentence is starting to get old, fuck bunny", I reply calmly, "maybe try finding someone else to entertain".
"Fuck you", she gritted, and I earn myself a fire of a slap across the face and the sound of my brother's laughter.
I would've gladly cut her in half in front of all these people, then feed her skin to hyenas. And most importantly grab her heart to add it to my collection. If I was in the mood.
"How'd that slap feel, big bro? Can't picture myself getting one". My brother's voice dripped with mockery. A deliberate attempt to rile me up.
He sat on the barstool next to mine, looking absolutely fucked up. His hair was disheveled in all directions, red hickeys were displayed across his neck and throat, and let's add the red lipstick marks on his neck to the description. Looks like someone got fucked.
Without much force, I slapped him across the face. "Well next time picture the pain, lil' bro", I quipped dryly, downing the vodka in a single gulp.
The sound of footsteps approaching our direction made a ripple of tension spread over my muscles, so I turned around to see who it was.
