A/N: I wanted to take a moment and thank everyone for the reviews. It encourages me to keep going. This is a pretty short chapter and it's up a little earlier than I anticipated but I wanted to give everyone a teaser. There will be another longer chapter posted later in the week. Also, becuse of the way the timelines make sense in my head, and because of the addition of Alice Porter etc, I have shifted the timeline of evens slightly from the original books. Thanks!

Tequila is not my drink…

Anastasia thought this to herself as she stumbled out of the club and into the relative quiet of the parking lot. The euphoria of the drink had died down, and now she just felt like she was going to be sick. The cool night hair was helping her to regain her equilibrium. Had she really just drunk-dialed Christian Grey?! What had she been thinking? It was as if she could just not stop humiliating herself in front of this man. He said he would be coming to get her. But that was ridiculous...she hadnt even told him where she was...he would never be able to find her. Her head felt like it was swimming, and Ana had to lean against some railing to recover her balance.

Grey eyes stared at her from a distance. She blinked, caught in their gaze. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck raise, she shook her head to clear the dizziness she felt and looked again. The eyes were gone. She was starting to see things now. Tequila was definitely not her drink.

"Ana! There you are!" It was Jose, coming up behind her. Ana smiled and turned toward him, a bit wobbly on her feet but happy for the company. Maybe talking with someone would make her feel less sick.

Christian was seething by the time he reached the nightclub where Anastasia's call had originated. She had been slurring her words so horribly that he knew she had to be beyond drunk. She had refused to tell him where she was, she had talked back to him, but most of all, she was putting herself at risk. Did the stupid girl not realize just how dangerous a place like this could be to a pretty, inebriated, young woman? Did she make a habit of activities like this? Well if she did, he would put a stop to that immediately.

To make matters worse, Christian had been visiting with his perpetual adolescent of a brother Elliot when Anastasia had called, and the man had insisted on accompanying him to the nightclub. When they pulled up Elliot had rushed off inside proclaiming to look for Anastasia, despite not knowing what she looked like. Christian knew the man was just looking for an excuse to party with some college-aged girls.

Christian did not need to go inside the club upon arriving, however. He'd already found her. She was standing in the parking lot, looking like she was about to be sick, all by herself. The parking lot was not very well-lit and there were few people around. And there she was, oblivious to the danger. It made his skin crawl and his blood boil.

Christian began to approach her when, instead, another man stumbled out of the club and toward Anastasia. It was the photographer, and Christian watched as Ana turned to greet the boy happily. She had told him the photographer was not her boyfriend; she had seemed to not be interested in the boy. But now was his chance to find out just how true that statement had been. He watched, from the shadows, close enough to make out bits of their conversation while still going unnoticed by the pair. His fury was becoming harder and harder to check as he watched the boy make a pass at Anastasia, swooping in for a kiss. Would she reciprocate? He held his breath.

"Jose, no!" she pushed the photographer away weakly and Christian sighed, she had been honest about not being interested. But still the photographer continued, grabbing Anastasia tighter around her midsection and pulling her to him. Anastasia looked distressed And Christian felt his blood begin to boil anew. The photographer was not letting up. He couldn't take it anymore. He stepped forward from the shadows where he had been watching.

"I believe the young lady said no." He seethed, his fists clenched at his sides, his entire being wanting to punch the photographer right in his square jaw. The boy released Anastasia immediately now that he'd been caught and she stumbled forward.

"Christian!" She gasped, before promptly lurching forward and vomiting. The photographer made a disgusted sound and stepped even further away from her. Classy,thought Christian. He swept forward to hold the poor girl's hair back for her as she wretched. The photographer, Christian noted with distaste,retreated back into the nightclub. When she was finished vomiting, Anastasia could barely stand on her own. It was going to be a long night.

He watched her from the bushes…Ana Steele… the willowy brunette was the spitting image of the woman he both loved and loathed more than any in the world. She was drunk. He could tell from the way she wobbled, unsteady on her feet. She looked up…and he could have sworn she saw him. He ducked further back into the shadows. He knew he was not the only one watching her in this moment, and that thought excited him. She was perfect...and he was not the only one who thought so. Her attention was quickly called to another, a Hispanic young gentleman. He moved quickly, tearing himself from her. He had other prey to hunt this evening. He felt like his entire body was on fire and he needed to quench his thirst.

He followed another brunette who headed out of the club, this one with long straight hair…and brilliant blue eyes. She was almost the spitting image too. She was the one..yes….he would make her his, tonight.

Ana Steele would have to wait her turn…He had other plans for her...