Afterlight - Elle Jasper [70]
Kelter gave Eli a curious glance and a nod. “Friend of yours?” he asked.
“Yeah, a friend,” I assured him. I’d get nowhere fast if Kelter thought I had the scrutiny of a boyfriend, and I nearly snorted out loud when I thought of what he’d think if he knew Eli was a creature of the afterlight. Beside me, Eli smothered a chuckle. Get out of my head, jackass, I thought. I knew Eli had heard.
“Come with me,” Kelter offered, completely ignoring Eli, and I tried not to shiver with revulsion when he placed his hand on my bare lower back.
“Sure,” I said, looking directly into Kelter’s black-lined eyes. I slid from the barstool and allowed him to guide me into the throng of people dancing. Before I got too far, I glanced over my shoulder; Eli sat watching me with a deadly glare in his eyes. I’ll be okay, I told him in my mind, and allowed the crowd to swallow me up. I wasn’t kidding myself; I knew Eli could see me, hear my heart, and would hear if called for him.
And God help anyone in his path.
Megadeth’s “Bite the Hand” roared through the Panic Room, and I moved seductively to the music; strange bodies moved with me. With my peripheral, I noticed someone standing close to us, and when I turned, the person had slipped back into the crowd. I stared hard through the smoky darkness. It was Eli, and he was everywhere, moving so fast the human eye couldn’t track him. I knew to look for him, and although I couldn’t see him actually change locations, I glimpsed him hovering closer, like a hawk. I got one glimpse of his face; he looked like he wanted to rip Kelter apart. Take it easy, Dupré, I said in my mind, and turned my attention back to the scumbag I was forced to deal with.
Kelter watched me intently as his hands slid down my hips and pulled me closer, and I knew he was already half lit and turned on, the smell of whiskey, marijuana, and cigarettes clinging to him. Suddenly, his hands were on my ass, his crotch grinding against me, and his mouth pressed to my ear. “You look good enough to fuck right here,” he said, obviously thinking his controlling dirty talk would do it for me, and it made me sick to think that at one time, it had done it for me. Now it made me profusely sick, and I tried not to let it show. “That ink is goddamn hot,” he said, and traced my dragons up both arms, then back down again. “All professional now, huh? Got your own business,” he said, moving behind me and groping my hips, pulling me hard against him. His dick was already hard—it probably stayed that way. With all the crap Kelter took, it wouldn’t surprise me to know he’d added Viagra to his repertoire of drugs and walked around with a twenty-four-hour woody. “Wanna go to the back?” he said in my ear, and turned me back around to face him. “Old times, huh, Riley?”
“Depends,” I said loudly over the pounding music. “On what you got back there.”
Without warning, Kelter grabbed my hand and pushed it against his crotch, and he throbbed beneath the leather pants at my touch. I tried to control my reaction; seriously, I did. But a lot had happened since my wild, reckless days at the Panic Room, and I reacted. I grabbed his balls hard, yanked upward and in, and twisted; Kelter’s eyes widened, and he smothered a painful gasp. I could tell he was getting no air at all if the squeaking from his throat and stretched eyeballs meant anything. I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing.
“Nobody forces me anymore,” I said, staring deadpan at