Escaping Death

She’s a motherfucking killer queen, she sold her soul at 17

A beautiful and broken mess

She’ll fill your heart with kerosene and light you up ’til you can’t breathe

If you break her heart you just might meet your end

Killer Queen - Mad Tsai

Magnolia

“I thought I’d find you here. Hiding.” I give Solana a smirk and a playful nudge.

“I’m not hiding, I’m working.” She fills a row of 10 shot glasses on the bar in front of her with tequila before nodding to the girls who ordered them to enjoy.

I grab a bottle and start helping her to build drinks and pour shots for thirsty club goers. Sol has never been able to not do anything, she has to have a focus, a job, something to channel her energy and attention into.

Sometimes I swear when I look at her it’s like looking in a mirror. Which is precisely how I know she’s hiding.

“What the hell are the two of you doing?” Varian chuckles as he takes a seat at the bar in front of me.

“She’s hiding.”

“I’m working. You had mom kidnap me–”

“I didn’t kidnap you,” I quickly correct her. “It was coercion at best,” I mutter under my breath. She came with me willingly albeit begrudgingly.

Sol continues her rant unphased by my interruption, “—held me captive for two days and forced me to come here on my day off. And now you’re complaining about free labor?” She retorts.

I ignite the tea towel in my hand and whip her playfully on the hip. “You don’t know shit about captivity.” My voice holds just enough edge for her to know that there’s a very serious undertone to our playful banter. “Besides, you fucking love it here. The guards pay notice.”

She doesn’t refute the allegation because we both know it’s true. She’s more comfortable here than most places. Here she can hide, here she can let go.

She’s wiping down her section when a young looking man-boy walks up to her. I can already tell by the change in the way his smile touches his eyes that he thinks he’ll win over her favor. Little does he know he’s exactly the type she’ll chew up and spit out.

My little mini me.

“What can I get you?” She asks him like any other customer.

“What’s good here?” He asks.

“It’s a full bar, you name it I can make it.” She’s getting bored with him, and a bored Solana is a volatile Solana.

He breaks out into a shit eating grin, like he’s got a challenge for her in mind. “Surprise me.”

His accent is curious, it’s not one we hear a lot. It’s vermouth smooth and has an almost song-like quality to the way he speaks. When she places the meticulously muddled cocktail in front of him, sugarcane stalk and all, he regards it coolly and lifts it to his lips for appraisal.

“Otimo,” he hums appreciatively, running his tongue along his bottom lip, lapping up the residual drops of his drink from his lips.

Curiously, he directs his next question to me. “Would you mind if I asked your sister for a dance?”

Varian growls, getting ready to pounce on the overly confident man-boy shamelessly flirting with Sol and me.

“That’s entirely up to her.” I say as I hop over the bar and grab Varian’s hand and motion for him to dance with me. “I don’t want blood on my floor, Sol. So if you’re going to kill him, do it outside.” I shout over my shoulder to Solana and the man-boy as Varian leads me through the darkness away from the bar and over to the equally dark dance floor.

“I don’t like him.” Varian growls in my ear as he places two firm, dominant hands on my waist, pulling my backside into his front.

“You don’t like anyone.” I lift my arms up and hook them around his neck, his hands instinctively slide up my ribs before settling on my stomach and pressing me further into his body.

“I like you,” he purrs against my throat and nips me on his mark.

I lower one of my arms, taking one of the hands that rests on my stomach and guiding him lower. When his fingertips brush the edge of my pants I release his hand and let him take over.

“Such a naughty thing you are.” He slips his hand into the waistband of my pants and teases my already wet slit with featherlight strokes.

He grabs my jaw with his free hand, tilting my head towards him and back a little until I’m looking up at his dark, hungry eyes. He devours me with his kiss, demanding my submission with his tongue. I whimper into his mouth when his fingers graze over my needy clit, he’s deliberately denying me what we both know I want.

“Varian, please,” I beg for more friction, for release.

“You really think I’d let anyone else watch you cum?” He half growls, half purrs lowly in my ear.

“You let Xan and Em—“

Varian wraps his free hand tightly around the front of my throat, preventing me from speaking any further.

“That’s different,” he growls in my ear and cups my sex, applying just enough pressure on my clit with the heel of his hand that I mewl with need.

Ro, get down here and fuck me since Varian won’t. I link Ro and Varian, attempting to taunt Varian into giving me what I want.

He slips a thick finger slowly into my entrance while avoiding my aching bundle of nerves. “I may not let you cum at all now, spitfire.” He nips at my ear.

Through my lustful haze I see Ro appear at the edge of the VIP lounge, he quickly spots Varian and me through the darkness and the crowd around us. The intensity of his gaze burns a line down my body as he follows Varian’s arm down to where his hand disappears into my pants.

Don’t listen to her, she’s just being a brat. Varian responds to Ro and me through our link.

I can almost feel the vibrations from the growl emanating from Ro’s chest all the way down here and it sends a new flush of liquid heat through my core.

Our princess has needs, Var. Get your tight ass up here, Love, and we’ll take care of you.

“I’m going to lick that smirk off your face, Love,” Varian says against my lips before lifting me up so I can wrap my legs around his waist. With me in his arms, he carries me through the crowd and up the stairs to our private lounge.

— — —

Solana

“Do you make a habit of killing people on the dance floor?” The mysterious stranger asks me after my mom and dad are out of ear shot.

I shrug with disinterest, “Only the ones who deserve it.” My mother is being dramatic, I’ve only killed one guy in their club and she acts like it’s a regular occurrence.

“That seems fair enough. What does someone have to do to earn your ire?” He presses me, drinking down his drink.

The drink I made him is uncommon in this region, but judging by his accent it’s common in his. It’s something I learned how to make when I was training with mom in Brazil. We spent two weeks down there in the mountains and when we weren’t working we were playing. That’s what I love about her – she plays just as hard as she works, and she works fucking hard.

“Well for one, wasting my time asking me asinine questions…” I retort but this guy doesn’t give up.

“Your drinks are lethal.” He smirks at me as he finishes his drink and begins to suck the juice lewdly from the sugarcane.

I’m transfixed by the motion of his tongue and lips and I briefly imagine what they’d feel like against my skin.

He is rather attractive. Taller than me, his black shirt struggles to stretch over his taut muscles. I can tell they’re the type of muscles you gain from use rather than good genes or hours at the gym. He may be naturally slim but he earned each and every one of his muscles. And despite how dark it is in here I can make out his dark brown hair and matching eyes. His face bears an attractively short, stubbly beard which I suspect is to counteract the natural man-boy youth of his features.

“Thank you for the drink,” he slips a bill into my hand but before I can take my hand away he grabs onto me, his long fingers holding me securely around the wrist.

I let my flames heat my hand hot enough to burn him if he doesn’t let go quickly. His eyes drop down to our clasped hands before looking back at me with a growing smirk. He doesn’t let go, he shows no pain at all. I chance a look down at our hands and see that a coat of ice has formed around his hand, melting from my heat and refreezing just as quickly.

His eyes are still on mine when I look back up to his face. “So how about that dance?” He lifts a brow with his question.

Well, color me intrigued. He may prove to be a bit of fun after all. I hop over the bar like my mother had done prior and lead him by the hand towards the dance floor.

My parents are easy to spot despite the darkness. People bow out of their way, if only subconsciously, giving them at least two feet of space to move freely as they please.

They’re dancing indecently and my new toy takes notice. “Which do you prefer, the watching or the …dancing?”

I catch his liberal meaning of ‘dancing’, because what my parents and most other club goers are doing is closer to fucking than dancing. My dad’s hand has disappeared down into the waistband of my mother’s pants and it’s about all I can stomach.

I turn to face my boy toy so I don’t have to watch my parents any longer. “Depends on my mood, depends on my company.”

His hands move confidently to my hips and he pulls me so our hips are pressed together. He leads us with easy grace to the heavy beat of the music, moving our bodies in perfect sync. My arms instinctually wrap around his neck, bringing our faces together so that our lips are only a breath apart.

Gods can he move. His hips sway and grind into my core in a dizzying tango. I don’t know if it’s the room or just me but the air around us is getting noticeably warmer. He remains cool to the touch, dousing my fire only to build it back up with his skilled and competent moves.

He flips me around so my back is against his front. His hands roam and explore up my ribs, across my stomach, and back down to my hips. He chances a kiss against my neck, against the one trigger spot that can bring me to my knees.

An audible moan escapes me almost reflexively. He smiles against my neck and kisses me in that spot again, this time tonguing it and dragging his teeth against my skin.

His right hand begins to slither down my abdomen, seeking entrance into the waistband of my shorts.

“You going to tell me your name before you finger fuck me?”

I can tell he’s surprised by how forward I’m being. “Elias.” He purrs out his name and nips my earlobe. “And you?”

“Solana.”

“Mmm, that’s a fitting name for someone as…fiery as you.” His hand glides further down seeking their target at the apex of my thighs.

I smirk at him in the darkness knowing he can’t see my face. He catches on quickly, noticing things others usually miss or simply don’t care about.

Sol, up here now. My dads link me from the lounge. I look up and sure enough both of them are standing at the ledge watching over me with an Eagle’s eye.

Before Elias’ hand disappears completely down my pants I pull at his wrist and turn to face him, surprisingly disappointed to have to cut our time short. “I gotta run. Thanks for the dance.”

I pull his face towards me, slamming my lips to his and driving my tongue directly into his mouth. He repays the favor in kind, and our tongues begin their own dance together, slipping and playing together, exploring and greeting one another.

I break away from him and slip into the shadows unseen, leaving him hopefully shocked and mesmerized by our time together.

I remain in the shadows as I make my way upstairs and await whatever meeting my parents have called.