Zayne’s Fantasy: The Underground Club

How did I get here? I was already on Zayne’s bike and I didn’t even know a damn thing about him except that he rode a sleek black motorcycle and he looked intimidating as hell itself.

I refused to judge him with what Carol said about him. Jeremy warned me that he was trouble, yet, he was the one who shattered me. Zayne didn’t. He couldn’t, not when he wasn’t the one who held my heart in his palm like he could toss it anytime and get it wounded.

He kicked the engine to life and rode on like he was chasing death. I pressed my cheek against his back, teeth gritted, eyes squeezed shut, clutching his leather jacket so tight my knuckles ached.

I screamed out of fear, feeling my lungs burn.

What was I doing riding with a stranger who was likely dangerous and now sensing he would speed us to death?

Maybe I needed this. This rush of heightened adrenaline. I needed this deadly distraction to take my mind off everything.

Zayne didn’t slow down.

The city became a blur as he zoomed on, light zipping past like drunken firelies—if there was anything like that.

He weaved through traffic with the recklessness of someone who knew no one would dare stop him. And maybe they wouldn’t. Zayne looked like the kind of man who did exactly what the fuck he wanted, and dared anyone to question him.

“Slow down!” I yelled, but the wind stole my voice.

He only went faster.

By the time we screeched to a stop, my thighs were trembling, and I wasn’t sure if it was fear, adrenaline, or the dangerous rush that had bloomed in my stomach when I imagined it was Jeremy riding instead. So much for whose reputation was ‘Nerdy’

Zayne took off his helmet and shook his head, messy strands falling into his face.

“You good, pretty?”

“No, you maniac,” I snapped breathlessly, ripping off my own helmet. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

He laughed. Actually laughed.

“Good. That means you’re still alive.” That British accent again. Delicious.

I wanted to slap him.

Instead, I followed him. And I didn’t even know this part of Los Alamos city. I trusted that he wasn’t going to kill me though or would he?

My phone vibrated in my hand and I halted my steps to pick Carol’s call.

“Hey, Teyan. We just got to Maggie’s. Which side…”

“I left. I’m sorry.”

“What? I was rushing my pace because of you. Where the heck are you?”

I sighed. There was no way I was telling her I was with Zayne. She would freak out.

“Talk to you later.” I ended the call, not allowing her to say more.

Zayne was talking to some red haired guy with a beanie on. I could see my surroundings clearly now. Cracked buildings, flickering streetlights, and a few people walking around with cigars in their lips. Where was this?

His head darted around to look at me, as if checking to see if I was still here.

“Come on,” He said in what sounded like a whisper. I remained rooted in my position.

“Where are we going?”

His upper lips tilted into what seemed like a smirk. “No suspense no fun. Don’t you think?” Why did I like the sound of that? God, what was wrong with me?

I didn’t argue. I followed as he led me down an alleyway, then down a flight of stairs that looked like it led to a boiler room.

A red light blinked beside a steel door.

Zayne knocked twice.

The slit opened. A pair of dark eyes stared, then disappeared. The door unlatched afterwards.

The sound of music suddenly filled the air. Thick, bass-heavy, and raw sound poured out. It was more than a sound, It was a sensation—vibrating through the floor, crawling into your bones, pulsing in your bloodstream. The door must be soundproof because I didn’t hear the music from here until they opened it.

The hallway glowed in red and black. The club itself was drenched in shadows, bodies dancing, grinding, twisting against each other in rhythm with the music.

Everyone here looked like the kind of people my mum would definitely freak out on if she learnt I had an encounter with. Smell of cigarettes, alcohol, and expensive cologne filled the air.

Zayne led me through the bodies, not holding my hand but keeping a possessive arm behind me like he dared anyone to touch me. I could feel eyes on us. On him. On me.

He was someone here. Maybe even someone important.

He stopped only when we reached the middle of the dance floor.

Then, he turned.

His hand found my waist slowly and held it firmly—unapologetic.

“Move to the music with me.”

I wanted to say no.

I didn’t.

His hands were like heat brands as they roamed my waist, guiding my hips until I moved with him. His mouth dipped low to my ear.

“You tense, little doll.”

“Just wondering why you brought me here of all places.” I said.

He chuckled again, dark and silently, like I amused him.

“It’s because you’re trying so hard not to like this,” he whispered, mouth brushing the shell of my ear.

“I don’t,” I said breathlessly. Liar.

He spun me gently, so my back was to his chest. One of his hands stayed on my hip. The other—bastard hand —slid down my front tummy like he owned the right to explore me.

“I don’t bite,” he said, his nose grazing my jaw. “Unless you beg.”

I swallowed.

Hard.

His fingers splayed across my belly, but he didn’t grope me, just holding me there. Too close. Too hot. Too everything.

The slow dirty music playing under the blink of the red light wasn’t helping either. Zayne purposely brought me here. He wanted to distract me totally. That was his own way of making me forget my worries. And God, was he achieving that?

“I know something about pain,” he murmured behind me. “I know how to turn it into pleasure.”

I shouldn’t have come with him.

I shouldn’t be letting him touch me.

But I couldn’t move.

No. I jolted away from his touch. He didn’t look surprised as I turned around to meet his eyes. “What do you want from me?” I asked, even though I didn’t know what I want myself.

“Get drunk with me and let’s be unruly all night.” So straightforward, very unhinged. Typical Zayne.

I blinked, “Why do you think someone like me is the right person to bring here? You didn’t meet me in the club.” I said almost defensively.

“I don’t have to meet you in the club to know your depth. There’s more to someone like you, pretty. And I want to unravel every aspect. That’s my most recent fantasy, little doll.”