Off The Grid (Kindred Series-3)

Off The Grid - 14

panic

            Remy leans against the cold tiles of the bathroom and sinks to the floor.  Her world spins and it isn’t because of the healing or the Strigoi attack.  She’d just lost Lena.  If she’d ever had her.  Yes, she’d had her; she’d had her for over eight years and had never done a thing about it.  Remy squeezes her eyes closed, willing the scene around her to change but it doesn’t.  Lena is still gone.            

            She drunkenly sloshes out of the bathroom, needing to be out of the room, away from it all.  She does have feelings for Stefan, Lena is right about that.  It’s respect, and maybe more, she likes him.  He’s not as brash as he pretends to be and she enjoys being with him but while there is a tinge of sexual undertones with him it’s nothing more than that – she isn’t in love with him. 

            Remy pulls a pair of faded jeans from her luggage, and a tight black shirt.  Forgoing a bra and underwear, she gets dressed.   Her sneakers feel good on her feet after the high heels, which she is sure is the work of the devil himself.  Tearing the door open she dashes down the hallway, money in her pocket and anger in her heart.  She’s going hunting.  She just isn’t sure if it’s for a demon or a hard body to play with.  Either way, she needs some sort of release.

party down

            Remy doesn’t have a hard time finding a club; they are a dime a dozen in Miami.  She feels nothing from the establishment, no demon energy or signs of Strigoi or even a succubae.  Which is good, she decides that she’s going to find someone to take out her frustrations on. 

            The dance floor is packed, sweaty bodies move to a sway and beat that thumps hard through the speakers and shift the floor with their bass filled notes.  Remy forgoes the drink, she’s still tired yet something drives her, something as primal as she’s ever felt.  A need.  A desperate urge for contact with someone human. 

            Her eyes settle on a tall dark haired young man, who moves with a grace of a dancer, movements as fluid as oil in a warm pan – someone ready to heat up more than just the dance floor.

            Easing by the throng of women who are all begging for his attention, she crosses in front of him; her hand finds his neck and trails down his chest.  “Aren’t you tired of being fawned over?” asks Remy.

            He smiles.  Azure eyes that shine like polished gems meet her own; his lips are in a sweet and alluring curl.  “Not really.”

            “How about we bypass the fawning and get to another F word.”

            His body jerks to a stop.  “Really?”

            “Sure,” says Remy.  She presses her body to his, feeling his hardness press into her thigh.  Oh yeah, he’s ready and willing, now to see if he’s able.  “I’m not much for tripping over other girls to get some guys attention, I like the direct approach.”  She cups his crotch and squeezes gently.  He places his hand on her lower back and pulls her that much closer, leaning down and kissing her cheek.  “I’m gay.”

            “Oh for god’s sake,” laughs Remy.

            He smiles.  “Sorry, love, if I weren’t, I would take you up on that offer in a heartbeat.”

            Remy rolls her eyes and turns, waving over her shoulder.  “Bye!”

            He laughs and finds another partner to dance with.  She looks down at her feet, still smiling at the odd encounter and slams right into Stefan.