Again, I stood in front of Randy and the other bouncer. He gave me a cursory once-over and then held out his hand for my money, which I put in his outstretched palm. He grabbed my wrist and roughly turned my hand over, pressing the stamp on my skin.

Just as I moved toward the door, I noticed another group being told to go home. The girls, dressed to the nines and way more clubbed-out than I was, started throwing a fit.

One girl wearing a dress cut so low that her boobs were in serious danger of flopping out pointed at me while curling her lip. “Why does that bitch get in and we don’t? She’s a total waste!”

I flushed in embarrassment at the unwanted attention I was receiving from the people in line. They all seemed to be judging me. And clearly I was coming up short. Pardon me if I didn’t dress for the goth and metal crowd.

Randy gave the girl and her friends a nasty glare. “Get the fuck out of here. Some people belong here. Others don’t. You don’t,” he growled. I knew the look he was giving them. It was the same one Brooks and I had received that first night. I shuddered, almost feeling sorry for them.

Boobs girl huffed and puffed in indignation, pushing her obviously surgically enhanced chest out for optimum effect before stomping off with her friends in tow.

The other bouncer, whom I had never bothered to pay attention to before, turned to look at me. I was still lingering just in front of the door, and he gave me a pointed look to get moving.

“The fun’s in there, baby. Though I’m sure I can find something for you to do out here if you’re interested.” He grinned and then licked his lips. He was cute in a rough-and-tumble sort of way, with a buzzed head and a face full of metal. I knew, without a doubt, that I couldn’t handle this guy’s idea of fun.

I hurried inside the club, followed by the bouncer’s laughter. The club was as it always was—dark and oppressive, but with an energy that couldn’t be described.

I wanted to dance. I wanted to get wild. It’s what people came here for. How easy it was to forget who I was and why I was there. The appeal of it was never lost on me. But I wanted to find Maxx. I had to talk to him here, on his turf.

I started pushing through the crowd, trying to search the shadowed faces for the one I recognized. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack. I remembered how hard it had been for me to find Renee, and I had been able to do so only with Maxx’s help.

Maybe if I stood by the bar, he’d find me. He always had before. I ordered a beer and leaned against the wall, watching, waiting. I was nervous. Actually, I was a mess. I hadn’t thought this search-and-rescue mission through.

What did I hope to accomplish by tracking Maxx down at the club? I really had some unrealistic, no-way-in-hell ideas when it came to Maxx Demelo. I could admit that I was already succumbing to the daydream in which I was that girl, the one he would change for.

But I blamed him entirely for making me feel that way. Because he made me think that I was that girl, that he was counting on me to pull him out of the chaos he found himself in.

I didn’t even begin to understand exactly what demons he was facing, the struggles he dealt with on a daily basis. I was given glimpses of a tortured soul barely treading water.

Or was that my overly dramatic mind looking for the person who needed me to save him?

Who fucking knew? Maxx had screwed royally with my head.

I wasn’t even trying to be subtle as I perused the room, seeking him out. I inadvertently caught the attention of a few less than savory individuals, but I straightened my spine and quickly turned away, hoping the obvious rebuff would be enough to dissuade them.

And then I found the person I didn’t want to find.

Brooks was out on the dance floor with a girl I vaguely recognized. Brooks was a really bad dancer, as in shouldn’t-be-out-in-public-with-moves-like-that bad. But this was a place where style and technique didn’t matter, which was lucky for him, because he looked like he was in the throes of a full-on body spasm.

The girl he was with was cute in an unassuming way. She had blond hair that was very similar to my shade and style. She had clearly done a Google search on club attire and had gone for the most extreme example she could find. She was decked out in head-to-toe black leather. She had a flickering glow stick between her teeth, and she bobbed her head around in awkward, jerky movements. She belonged here about as much as I did.

I ducked behind a couple dry-humping beside me, hoping to hide from a possible Brooks run-in. That was absolutely the last thing I needed.

I was so busy making sure that Brooks and Catwoman didn’t see me that I didn’t realize he was behind me until I felt a hand curl around my waist.

“What are you doing here?” Maxx asked, his breath fanning across my cheek. My heart thumped in an uneven tempo in my chest, and I had the urge to lean back into his touch. The heat of him seared my back, and every nerve and synapse in my body tingled in anticipation.

I turned around to face him and realized immediately what a bad idea coming to Compulsion was.

Maxx was stoned out of his mind. I couldn’t see his eyes beneath the bill of his cap, but he swayed on his feet, and his lips stretched in an exaggerated smile that was anything but normal.

“Is Red Riding Hood looking for her wolf?” He smirked, and his words were deadened and slurred. The bartender brought him a drink, though I hadn’t seen Maxx order one. He picked up his cocktail and took a long swig.

I shook my head, infuriated with myself for being so naïve. And I was angry as hell with him for being wasted. This wasn’t a man looking for any sort of salvation. This was a man enjoying his trip to hell.

Maxx’s fingers dug into the exposed skin at the hem of my shirt. I could feel the pinch of his nails as he squeezed. He leaned in close to me, until we were breathing each other’s air.

“I’ll eat you up, little girl. Would you like that?” His voice was rough and hoarse, as though he had been screaming. He was being strange. I had yet to meet this particular incarnation of Maxx’s personality—the strung-out egomaniac. And I could tell right away that I didn’t like this version one bit.

I pulled out of his grasp and took a step backward, knocking into a girl behind me.

“Watch it,” she yelled, elbowing me in the back. I stumbled forward, and Maxx caught me. My chest collided with his, and for just a moment I felt him relax. His arms came around me, and he cradled me to his body. The seconds passed as we stood there with Maxx wrapped around me.

He leaned down to press his cheek into my hair, and I felt something drain out of him. His shoulders drooped and his knees bent, but his arms tightened their grip. “Aubrey,” he murmured into my ear, and I could feel the cold tip of his nose glide along the side of my neck.

Maxx sagged into me, and I staggered under his weight. “Maxx!” I yelled into his ear, trying to pull back. He stumbled toward the wall and leaned heavily against it. I reached up and yanked his cap off his head. His pupils were so dilated that his eyes looked black. Even in the horrible lighting, I could see there was something very, very wrong with him.

“What did you take?” I raised my voice loud enough for him to hear me over the pounding bass. Maxx rolled his head from side to side but didn’t answer.

I grabbed the front of his T-shirt and gave him a shake. “Maxx, goddamn it, what the hell did you take?” I screamed into his face. He pushed my hands away with fumbling fingers.

“Back the fuck off, Aubrey. Just leave,” he growled. After a few minutes, he pushed himself off the wall and lumbered through the crowd. I took off after him, shoving and nudging people as I followed him. People attempted to stop him, and he was less than civil in brushing them off.

I was scared. Maxx’s movements were sluggish and unsteady. He seemed to have a hard time staying upright. There was no way I would let him out of my sight.

Maxx headed toward the back of the old department store and had almost made it to the exit when a guy who looked a lot like scary Randy, the doorman, grabbed him. He sported a green Mohawk and some sort of tattoo beneath his right eye. He was big and beefy, looking as though he ate kittens for breakfast. And he appeared to be extremely pissed off. At Maxx.

Shit. What the hell was going on?

Mr. Mohawk yanked Maxx through a door at the back of the room. I hurried to follow him, not thinking beyond the fact that some scary-looking dude had taken him. Any thoughts about my own safety had flown out the window.

I pushed open the door, which led to a dimly lit hallway. I could see a sign that read “Staff Only” beside a door that was starting to close.

I practically ran so I could catch it before it shut. I used my shoulder to shove it open and slipped inside. I could hear shouting. I followed the noise to a fire exit. The thump, thump, thump of the music made it impossible to hear the words being screamed. People were angry, bordering on homicidal.

I opened the door a crack and peered outside. It was so dark, I could barely see a thing. But a car had been pulled around the back of the building, and its headlights shone on a scene I wish I could forget.

Maxx stumbled precariously on his feet while two guys, including serial-killer-Mohawk-man, beat the ever-living shit out of him. I shoved my fist into my mouth to smother the scream that bubbled up in my throat.

Maxx wasn’t moving. He didn’t put up a fight. He just lay there as their feet connected with his body over and over again. Mr. Mohawk lifted Maxx up and screamed something into his face. I couldn’t hear a thing over the reverb.

Mohawk punched Maxx in the jaw and sent him sprawling. Maxx moaned in the dirt, and even in the darkness I could see an excessive amount of blood. I felt sick. I thought I’d throw up all over myself. I didn’t know what to do. I was terrified.

But I couldn’t just stand there and watch Maxx be beaten to death. I pushed the door open harder than I meant to. It slammed against the wall, sounding like a gunshot in the night.

The two guys pounding Maxx turned to me in unison, and my blood froze in my veins. These were some cold-assed dudes. Crap, they were going to kill me! I was a witness to their assault; they’d have to get rid of me!

I looked down at Maxx on the ground. He wasn’t moving, and I could see that his eyes were closed. I needed to see if he was still breathing.

Tentatively, I walked down the metal staircase off the fire exit and held my hands up. “I just want to see if he’s all right,” I said placidly. I spoke slowly and carefully, making sure to keep my movements steady.

The man standing beside the guy with the Mohawk cocked his head and regarded me. I couldn’t get a read on his face. He was older, maybe in his forties. He had thick, dark hair that could only be dyed. It was too thick and too black to be real. He wasn’t remotely attractive. In fact, he was the scariest thing I had ever seen.

“You know him?” he asked, jerking his head toward Maxx’s prostrate form. His voice was gruff, like that of someone who had been smoking a pack of Marlboros a day since he was twelve. It was the voice of nightmares and bogeymen. Why the hell was he hurting Maxx?

What messed-up, Sopranos-like shit was Maxx involved in?

“He’s a friend,” I said, enunciating my words. I was such a moron. Why didn’t I just hand my life over in a pretty little box for him to stomp on? I could almost imagine him thinking of all the ways he could dispose of my body. I wasn’t very big, so it probably wouldn’t be too hard.

Scary Marlboro Man snorted. “You need to do a better job choosing your friends, sweetheart.” He laughed as though Maxx weren’t bleeding out at his feet.

“Is he okay?” I couldn’t help asking. I stopped moving, not wanting to get too close to either of the men.

Mohawk shrugged his shoulders. “Fuck if I know,” he mumbled, lighting a cigarette and leaning against the car.

Marlboro Man put his hands in his jacket pockets and looked me up and down. It was extremely unpleasant. I felt violated by his gaze, as though he were raping me with his eyes.

“If you’re his friend, get him out of here. And tell the piece of shit to get his priorities in order. That was his last warning.” He got into the car with Mohawk, and they backed up the car and left.