*Hungry wolf*

Desiree didn’t remember leaving the club so much as deciding she couldn’t stay. One second, the bass was rattling through her ribs, and the next she was outside about to fight for her life, saved by a stranger and is now following him, boots hitting pavement, breath catching on the cold.

Mr. Stranger was already ahead of her, with no care if she followed or not. Just walking like the sidewalk was his and she was going to follow anyway.

The cold air blew into her hair, making her shiver slightly but her skin was still burning under her dress, the bass still echoing through her body. She should’ve turned around, gone back for Rebecca, called a ride, done literally anything except walk after a man she didn’t know. But her legs kept moving.

_fucking turn Dee!_

_fucking turn_

Her brain was trying to catch up.

Why was she doing this?

Her fingers shook as she dug into her pocket, thumb grazing the edge of her phone. She could call someone, she _should_ call someone, but the thought vanished just as fast as it came, a cat mauling a rat caught her attention, and she forgot what she was thinking in the first place.

Everything felt off. Not in the obvious way, of course he hadn’t touched her, he hadn’t said a word since they left but the way her body wouldn’t listen to her and kept stumbling behind him was something she was yet to figure out. She was tipsy, yeah, but it wasn’t just that. Her limbs felt too light for someone her weight. She was fucking twenty for crying out loud yet it felt like her bones were floating just under her skin.

What the hell did she drink?

Did those men inject her with something? Did they blow a substance into the air?

She blinked hard and tred to count backwards from ten like her therapist had taught her. She only got to six before she realized they’d turned down a street she didn’t recognize.

He suddenly stopped and she almost walked right into him.

A hotel stood in front of them, modern, and nice to shake her account if she even decided to book a room to fuck a guy.

Uh...

She froze when she retraced her thoughts and settled on one word that made the alarms in her head go off.

Was he...?

It was as if that moment of realization hit something in her head because only then was she able to look around her surroundings and drunkenly take in the appearance of the sinfully handsome man taking her to a hotel.

“Uh...who are you?”

“Come on.” He gently grabbed her arm. “I thought you were a mute for a second.” He muttered under his breath and gently dragged her along until they were inside. The warm air inside slapped the cold from her skin and along with it came the six thousand pixels, ultra high definition post-mortem photos of brutally raped and dead girls in hotel room floors that has hit the news this year.

“Let me go...me go.” She stuttered out, hiccuping.

The lady behind the counter looked up and smiled faintly but frowned when she saw the girl who looked like she would erupt any second.

“I'll like a room for the young drunk lady.”

“Name?”

He paused and looked at her.

She opened her mouth to reply but nothing came out. He shook his head and turned back to say something to the woman.

Only three shots. That’s all she had. Three fucking shots of tequila.

Why did she feel like this?

_oh, heavens save me!_

He finished and took the key, walking past her without waiting, he wasn't going to risk dragging her to the elevator and drawing attention to himself.

She stood there for a second, her body torn between staying rooted and running, but at the end she followed and stepped in after him.

The elevator doors closed. She could hear the soft hiss of the cables and the almost silent ding as they passed each floor. Her arms were folded tight across her chest, nails digging into her sleeves as she tried to count the buttons by the door.

It was like her whole body had been set to respond to him and no one had told her why.

The door slid open on the fifth floor and she followed him to the room, unable to stop her feet.

Room 512.

He pushed the door open and stood aside, letting her walk in, and at this point, she knew whatever this was, there was no way it was normal. The room was clean and tiny, Neutral-colored walls, soft lamplight, and an untouched bed. The scent of fabric softener hung in the air, just beneath a faintly musky scent.

She stepped in, stomach tightening by the second, insides still buzzing from the cold outside and whatever had gotten into her blood since she left the club.

He shut the door behind her and that made her turned.

“Now you have the room to yourself...” He flung the key card onto the table with ease. “I'm sure you can find your way back tomorrow morning.”

She could feel her pulse climbing, the heater melting whatever he was saying. Her hands went to the hem of her dress again, smoothing it out like it mattered.

He turned around to leave but immediately, she caught his wrist. "Wait!” she grabbed a little too tight but let go when she realized and he glared at her hand like it burned. Maybe it did, because he hissed like he was in pain and glared at her.

“Wh-sorry.” She didn't know if she should apologize or not. Why did she even call him?

Why, why wasn't she chasing him way?

He took one step forward, that startled her but she didn't move back. He took another step, and he was close enough to reach her if he wanted to but he didn't.

He didn’t...

His gaze dropped on her lips, and slowly, he raised his hand, his fingers touched just beneath her chin.

Desiree felt her breath stop in her throat, and involuntarily, she shut her eyes as his lips hesitantly settled on hers, it was as if he was holding himself back, like something was drawing him in. She'd flipped if it wasn't, because then that wouldn't be mutual.

But she felt his body grow stiff, his breathing growing ragged by the second as he hungrily kissed her like a hungry wolf.