Cutthroat Carmine (Book 1)(COMPLETE) (Wattpad Featured Novel)

21: [nahyt-krawler]

***This chapter was originally bundled together with chapter 20 but I didn't like that so I just separated the two, since Ritual Night begins in this chapter. It's a short one but I'm looking to possibly expand on this later. Thanks!***

Every month on Ritual Night Carmine feels like a werewolf - transformed from a regular human being into a bloodlusty nightcrawler. Her body is surging with a myriad of hormones; begging her to draw blood and feast.

Tonight is no exception.

However, last night's news bulletin certainly put a damper on Carmine's mood. It also gave her a wake up call. She needs to be a lot more careful about who she picks tonight. The last thing she wants is to be dead. And drag her family down with her.

Blu Lagoon is crawling with losers. From yellow teethed chain smokers to oily haired, fat men sporting goatees and too-small t-shirts. The ugly guys aren't the only scummy looking ones though: a couple of half-decently dressed men in collared polos and board shorts (who look completely out of place) are also placing orders at the bar while lasciviously ogling the cleavage of two prostitutes playing pool.

Carmine's favourite kind of playground.

She's wearing a backless halter top dress tonight; the shimmery indigo fabric catching the dim light well. Before her stilettos even stop clicking, a handful of men are already descending upon her, like rats smelling a feast.

A part of her, the sinister, trashy part of her, revels in the attention. After all, it's the one night of the month she assumes a completely new identity and shamelessly flaunts her figure like a deadly Siren. A mysterious temptress.

A door inside of Carmine clicks open on Ritual Night. And she lets the beast out to play.

Coyly declining the mountain of drinks piled in front of her, she fends off all the swarthy men in front of her. She has her eyes on the prize: Mr. Trust Fund Playboy is going down. He's an eight. No, maybe even a nine, depending on how he looks shirtless.

Mother will be happy tonight.

She just has to wait for him to come over now. It's all a mind game.

Surely enough, the handsome blond hunk in board shorts weaves his way through the sludge of riffraffs and claims Carmine by snaking his arm around her waist. "She's mine," he declares, practically hissing at a few bearded drunkards.

After the crowd dissipates, Carmine purrs, "Thanks for rescuing me." Her scarlet fingernails click against the bar counter.

"You're welcome. But...for future reference, try not to dress like that going into a bar like this." The man winks, and then hails down the bartender. "What would you like to drink?"

Carmine is hesitant to start drinking, lest she lose control. But the man seems genuinely harmless so she lets herself indulge in one martini. "I'll have a martini, dry."

Moments later, the man hands Carmine her drink. He raises his tumbler up in the air. "To meeting such a beautiful woman tonight in such an unremarkable dump."

As he takes a gulp, Carmine does the same. The stranger's blue eyes sparkle almost like little sapphires. "My name is Chris. What's yours?"

"It- It's um..." Carmine pauses for a few milliseconds. She didn't even think up an alias before entering the bar. "Nyla." I'm sure Nyla won't mind me borrowing her name.

"Nyla," Chris muses, "What an unusual name. I like it. What brings you here tonight, Nyla? If you didn't look so elegant, I would think that you were looking for-"

"That's exactly what I'm looking for," Carmine interrupts, capturing Chris's eyes with a smouldering look of her own. She drains the rest of her cocktail glass and circles the rim with her tongue.

Chris blinks rapidly, unsure if he's misinterpreting her intentions. Then after a few seconds, his mouth twists into a rakish grin. "Well, now that we have THAT out of the way, may I buy you another drink?"

Carmine is about to refuse the offer when a bout of nausea and dizziness suddenly hits her temple like a bullet. She clutches her head as a migraine starts pulsing through her, threatening to saw her skull in half.

"I don't- This-"

The last thing she sees is a string of garlic bulbs dangling above her head.

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