Author's Note: Nom nom nom.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.


CHAPTER ONE


There might have been a time
When I would give myself away
Once upon a time I didn't give a damn
But now, here we are so whatya want from me?

- Adam Lambert, Whatya Want From Me


One Month Later . . .

"C'mon, babe, I got a million songs in my head. What do you want to dance to?"

Renesmee cocked her head to the side, watching as a stream of men plowed through the turnstile of the Fuego.

The melodious piano intro from Coldplay's "Clocks" drummed through the speakers, and she tapped her fingers against her thigh, harmonizing with the music. Glancing down at her smooth expanse of legs showcased by a super short, spaghetti-strapped, one-piece, dark red, velvet mini skirt, Renesmee was surprised.

For the first time in her three years of dancing, her knees were shaking.

She shifted her apprehensive gaze toward Fred, AKA, Fred the Man. "I don't know. I don't know what I feel like. I can't decide."

"Renny, this isn't like you, doll. Why don't you go for a Metallica? You're the only girl in here who can dance to them. Or maybe we should go for some old school, some Duran maybe?"

Renesmee shifted her gaze once more. "I don't know. Why don't you choose something? I just want to get it over with."

"What's the stress, hon? The men are horny, and there are plenty to go around tonight. You could dance to Pat Benatar and it wouldn't matter."

The flickering, multi-colored glare from the stage cast shards of light into her eyes, and without conscious thought her sight settled on a glittering, familiar gaze.

"Just play something. I don't care what it is," she muttered.

"You don't have to go up there, ya know?"

Startled, Renesmee broke free of the powerful stare. Jutting her chin forward, she clenched her teeth in determination. "No, I'll be fine. Just play something. Go with something you think will be the best."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, play whatever you like. I'll be fine."

"I doubt that, doll. But, how about we go with a set of classic Soundgarden?" Fred grinned, wriggling his eyebrows as he twisted knobs in his lighted DJ booth. "Rusty Cage? Outshined?"

The corners of Renesmee's lips lifted as memories of grating guitar strings played in her head. "Grunge is good for me."

"Alrighty, then. Go on and get dressed. Take your time. I'll keep the crowd hot until you're ready."

Renesmee yearned to assure Fred she was ready, but as her eyes fixed on the marble-topped, rectangular stage — sparkling lights like shiny candy for the taking — she knew she wasn't.

Shutting her lids, she waited a moment before lifting them again, her breath catching as her eyes, again, clashed with a dark, heated stare.

The whoops and hollers echoing through the club reminded her of jungle-like mating calls of animals — wild and frenzied with lust.

The pungent aroma of musk hung heavy like the smoke for Indian incense, teasing her nostrils.

The blaring music ricocheted through her eardrums with the beat of her desire.

Renesmee couldn't stop the jitters trilling down her spine. She didn't feel the fun she normally felt. Fear tightened the muscles in her stomach, forcing her head to turn away from the piercing, intent look.

Blinking at Fred's expectant gawk, she finally stuttered, "J-just give me a c-couple of minutes, o-okay?"

"You got it, sweetie. Holler at me when you're ready."

Renesmee nodded and walked toward the dressing room. Her shoes slid against the soft carpet, the pointy soles catching and making her stumble. She took a deep breath and picked up her feet, resisting the urge to glance over her shoulder to see if those memorable black eyes were still watching.

As she reached for the golden handle of the dressing room, the door swung wide, causing a shaft of light to spread across her eyes. Renesmee recoiled against the glare, before blinking Alice Sennett's petite, pixie-like stature into focus.

"I was about to look for you. Rachel says you have to go on stage." Alice gasped, pulling Renesmee inside with undue haste.

"I'm about to go on. I was just coming in to find a new outfit."

"No! I told her you couldn't because of that weirdo."

"He's not a weirdo . . ." Renesmee stopped herself, realizing she was protecting the very man she was scared of seeing.

Regrouping, she walked past Alice, pushing her way into the dressing room. "Don't stress it. Tell her I'm about to go on."

"Are you sure? You've been a basket case ever since this dude started coming into the club. You haven't even been on the stage in a month. Maybe you should go home, Renesmee. There's no need to tempt fate."

The suggestion had a lot merit. Renesmee pondered it before dismissing it out of hand. She had to get this over with.

"I can't, Alice. I've got bills and they won't get paid if I don't make any money."

"Well, if you're sure. I guess you should. But, be warned," Alice's face scrunched into a pensive frown, "he's got a look about him tonight."

"What do you mean?" Renesmee asked, taking a seat in one of the vacant leather chairs."

"I mean, that since he's been coming here, I've never seen him look so dangerous. Seriously, girl, I don't think you should go out there."

"I don't really have a choice. Do I?"

"I'm for real, Renny. Don't go out there. This guy means business. I don't know what you did to him. And frankly, I don't want to know, but trust me when I say he is serious."

That really wasn't a surprise.

Renesmee was about to open her mouth to repeat the trite 'I'm fine' expression, when a loud commotion across the room halted her before she could speak.

"You don't dance for my customer, bitch! I told you that before!"

"It's a free country, Cynthia! And you don't own him!"

Renesmee rolled her eyes and shook her head, reaching to grab the make-up case sitting near her heeled feet. She had wanted to change clothes, but the arguing changed her mind.

"I can't believe those two are at it again," Alice murmured. "You'd think they'd do a duo for the guy and save themselves the hassle."

Renesmee chuckled in spite of herself. "But then they wouldn't be able to flight all the time. Where would the fun be if they didn't?"

"Personally, I think they're gay and trying not to fall in love."

Glancing over her shoulder at Amber and Cynthia, she took in their flushed postures and eager combative stares.

Hmmm . . . There was something sparking between them. Guffawing, Renesmee remarked, "I wouldn't doubt it."

Smiling, she turned back toward the mirror to apply more makeup, her mind tuning out the argument, music and Alice standing over her like a guardian angel, so she could concentrate.

An image of a girl with long, golden brown hair and wide, chocolate-brown eyes mimicked her every moment, and Renesmee dropped her hand to lean closer to the mirror.

Once upon a time, long ago, she had liked working for the Fuego, but now with Kim gone, things weren't the same.

Kimberly Houston, her best friend, had worked at the club for the last two of the three years Renesmee had been dancing. She smiled, remembering walking Kim around her first day.

Dan, the Jerk, was still the manager, and Fred had been about twenty pounds lighter. Melissa and Rachel were still dancing. The Fuego had been different — the same really, but different for her.

A part of Renesmee wished to return to those days of old, when times were less problematic. But deep down inside, she knew she couldn't. The growing restlessness inside her soul wouldn't go away. The haunting eyes following her every move were watching — always watching — making her want things Renesmee knew she shouldn't

Blinking back the sudden moisture in her eyes, Renesmee knew she'd been dancing for too long. She had never planned on making this a career. Yet, already she felt like she'd been at it for eons.

Closing her eyes, Renesmee turned away from the mirror, the decision clear.

Tonight would be her last dance. And after that . . . Jacob Black could go to hell!

"Are you sure you want to do this, Renesmee?" Alice asked, tapping her on the shoulder to regain her attention.

Renesmee stared once more at the young woman in the mirror, before turning what she hoped was a determined gaze toward Alice.

"Yes. It's time."

Fred's loud voice echoed through the club with persistence, causing heads to turn and anticipation to heighten.

"Alright, gentlemen, we have a special treat for you. Get those bills, hundreds, I mean, ready for the treat of your lives. Tonight, I'm bringing to the stage a special lady. She'd been missing from action for a while, but she's back with a vengeance dancing to one of my favorite bands. So, be prepared to moan . . . scream . . . and holler . . . FOOOOORRRR . . . Vanessa!"

Renesmee didn't feel the carpet beneath her feet or the men staring at her with lust.

It was as though the world faded away, so only she could hear the music pounding through the speakers.

Swaying her hips, the high stilettos moved her body in captivating angles as she walked up the stairs, the strident strings of Soundgardens's "Rusty Cage" echoing loudly.

The music took hold of her like it always did, and Renesmee lost herself, letting the beats lead her motions. Her hips bumped in sequence and rolled with a rhythm she knew looked pagan, forbidden.

Grabbing one of the poles placed at the end of the stage, Renesmee bent forward, sweeping her long auburn tresses until the strands rested between her legs at the base of her spread ankles. The super-short skirt she wore rose to just under her butt cheeks, highlighting her muscular limbs. The crisp, red satiny material of her g-string stretched until it nestled like a glove against her shaved pussy.

As she trailed one hand up the soft curve of her inner thigh, teasing and enticing, Renesmee swayed her hips back and forth with flourish, before finally raising her head so she stood straight and tall.

Tensing the muscles in her arms, so they acted as an anchor, she kicked both her white stilettos from the floor. Inherent motion rotated her entire body with the force of inertia, and Renesmee held to the golden symbol of virility, while her long legs formed a tilted 'V'.

Loud, raucous cheers greeted her skilled, acrobatic movements, but she tuned the sounds out once more, concentrating on her actions and the music.

Bending her left leg at the knee to clasp the pole, making sure to keep her grip firm, Renesmee slid downward like a talented enchantress until the tips of her shoulders touched the floor. Her back now resting prone, she let her thighs fall wide to the side, utilizing her hands to caress the clothed portions of her breasts and stomach; the strident rhythms making her hips grind against the floor.

Dark, dirty green bills floated around, drifting about like tribute to a heathen goddess.

Indeed, she felt powerful and very aware.

Rolling onto her stomach, the men in the club hollered again as she rose on all fours like a female panther stalking her prey.

Renesmee couldn't hear them, though. All her senses were frozen on one man amongst the throng who didn't cheer.

She almost flinched backwards when he rose suddenly from his seat. His thick, cropped dark hair tousled, as though he'd been running his fingers through it repeatedly. His jaw clenched into a merciless frown of retribution.

He's going to leave, Renesmee though, while at the same time cursing herself for feeling anything about it.

Yet . . . he didn't.

Instead, the darkly clad figure sat back down, his large fingers clutched around a silver money clip. Without a care, he tossed the money on the stage.

Renesmee paused, knowing what that meant.

The bills would be nothing but hundreds, probably thousands of dollars.

The course of his actions was crystal clear.

Jacob Black had made it known numerous times.

He would pay anything and everything for her — and he would not be denied.

Renesmee couldn't help the slight prickles of awareness moving down her spine. His commanding ways should frighten her, but instead she felt a pull so strong, she had difficulty denying it.

She should be outraged. Instead, she felt a slow burn of warmth generating deep inside her belly, the feeling spread, moving outward and into her limbs.

Scowling, she pushed the dangerous feeling from her body with force, and lowered her head to sweep her hair along the black-topped stage.

Fred only played two minutes of each song, and if her internal counting was correct, "Rusty Cage" would soon be followed by "Outshined."

Renesmee usually liked to wait to take her clothes off, the first song being the intro — the prelude to desire.

Yet this time, things had to be different.

Creeping toward Jacob, Renesmee arched her back, pushing her cloth-laden breasts downward so her distended nipples scrapped the floor.

Jacob narrowed his dark eyes, staring at her with a hard, cold expression.

Specters of vulnerability crawled across her skin, but still she pressed forward as her ears picked up on the abrupt shift in the music; to the drums telling her the rhythm had changed.

Shifting back onto her haunches, Renesmee undulated her body until both her legs pushed outward. She crossed her ankles to steady her movements until she landed horizontally in front of Jacob, her heels facing him.

From this position he'd be able to see her body highlighted by all the seductive bumps and curves.

Without conscious thought, her thighs fell to either side, allowing him — and only him — an up-close and personal view every man in the club was aching to glimpse.

Her hands touched her g-sting, pulling the fabric so it massaged against her clit. She knew the fleshy lips of her pussy were peeking past the thin line, but Renesmee didn't care. She was angry, frustrated and hurt. The reckless need to punish Jacob was all she could think about.

This is what he wanted — a body designed to please him. Well, she'd show him. Rocking on her spine to bring her legs beneath her so she could rise to a standing position, Renesmee looked down at Jacob with fury rioting through her pores.

The dangerous emotions coursing through her body were in tune with the violent song blaring from the speakers. Beats roaring in her head like drums of war, she grabbed one of the spaghetti straps on her shoulders, pulling on the thin material until it left her skin to reveal one plump breast.

Antagonism, dark and scorching hot, fired the blood in her veins. She hated the way he made her feel, and even now when she as in control, Jacob easily held the reins.

The crowd cheered, but Renesmee kept her stare glued to the dark, powerful man below her as she walked in a slow circle above him, finally tearing free the rest of her dress.

Clad now in only her red g-string and stilettos, she kicked loose the material pooled around her ankles, absently watching it float to the back of the room. Two quick and hasty moves later, she removed her flimsy panties.

Jacob stayed still, his hands pinned to his sides, a muscle ticking in his jaw, his eyes promising retribution later.

Renesmee lifted the corners of her lips in return, taunting him, but her smile wasn't one of seduction. It was one of challenge.

Lowering on all flours like a sleek cat, she slowly rocked forwards and backwards, her actions mimicking a man — this man in front of her — fucking her from behind.

Her naked body flushed from her dance, Renesmee crawled closer toward Jacob, using the golden rail around the stage to steady herself until her lips were inches from his face.

The people in the club would think she was working to entice him, but she knew better.

"Is this what you want?" she asked, her free hand grazing across her breasts. "You want to fuck me?"

The look blazing from his eyes answered the question without him even uttering a word.

As he leaned closer, Renesmee could see Jacob's chest heaving with exertion.

"You push when you should retreat, Nessie."

"I'm trying to make a point," she gritted through clenched teeth, frowning at his fearless expression. "This is it! No more. I won't be back here tomorrow or the next night. Find some other girl to fixate on and leave me alone."

Even though the music played loudly, there was deafening silence after her statement.

Jacob's lips pinched tight. Under the colored lights the angry flush highlighting his cheeks made him look harsh — unforgiving. "Go put some clothes on before I beat your delectable little ass, Nessie."

"You don't own me, Jacob. This thing between us . . . it's over and I better never, ever see you again."

Jacob smiled, but Renesmee could still see the anger sparking in his eyes.

"Get. Off. This. Stage. Or I swear to God, Nessie, you will regret this moment for as long as you live."

Rearing back, she couldn't help but take note of the seriousness in Jacob's tone. Her eyes wide, she rose shakily on her heels, ignoring the shouts around her, ignoring the fact that the set was still playing.

Moving toward the stairs, not even pausing to collect her money, Renesmee ran like a fleet —footed gazelle.

Absently she noticed Alice standing at the bottom of the stairs, a worried look in her eyes.

"I'll get your stuff and deal with Rachel. Get out of here . . . while you still can."

Renesmee took heed of the words this time, and ran as fast as her stilettos would allow for the dressing room, recalling Jacob's heated words.

Don't play with fire. You'll get burned.


Sneak-preview of the next chapter:


She was almost there, the dusty exterior of her car gleamed in the yellowish lights, and she breathed deeply, fumbling with the keys. A thick, plastic insignia rubbed against her fingers and Renesmee grasped the electronic opener in her hands, aiming it to open the door.

Even from a distance, she could hear the click of locks snapping open and she stumbled slightly in relief. The length of the parking lot still stretched between her and the car, so she ran faster, her soft soles pounding against the pavement.

She would make it. She could feel success beating in tune with the rapid pace of her heart. There wasn't anyone following her. Jacob wasn't following her.

Landing against the car door with a huff, Renesmee grasped the cool metal of the door handle. The swishing sounds of cars speeding by sounded in her ears, and she pictured herself as one of those speeding motorists, riding off into the night.


-Review. You think Renesmee can run away from Jacob that easily?-