chapter 18: possession

August was dissatisfied with the contents of her suitcase.

"You couldn't have packed me any better clothes?" she mumbled, looking through the suitcase filled with jeans and plain shirts.

"Considering my plans were to just keep you handcuffed to the bed the whole time, no. And what better clothes? Your entire dresser was filled with sweaters." Willow walked into the bathroom with an outfit in her hand, deadpanning August as she closed the bathroom door.

"Well, I did have a whole closet you could've looked through." She rolled her eyes, pulling out a pair of ripped jeans and the only cute shirt in her suitcase—a tan crop top. Surely the party would be held inside, and she wouldn't have to deal with the December cold, she thought to herself.

"Well, I was a little busy kidnapping you," Willow's muffled voice remarked behind the closed bathroom door. "Plus, you don't have to wear anything nice. No one really cares."

"I care," August mumbled, her voice so quiet it was out of earshot to the woman. Laying her outfit of choice on the bed, she lifted her shirt over her head, leaving her in her grey bra.

Finished changing into her clothes, Willow stepped out of the bathroom, her eyes widening at the sight before her. The girl was standing with her bare back turned to her, her hair bouncing down her shoulders after she lifted her shirt over her head. She froze like a deer in headlights when the girl snapped her head towards her, matching the wideness of her eyes, after she had heard the bathroom door open.

"U-Um, sorry." She felt her cheeks burn as she turned around to go back into the bathroom and wait until the girl finished changing, stopping as August quickly spoke.

"No, you can look," August thoughtlessly interjected. Her words had slipped out of her mouth before she realized how it sounded. "I mean—"

Willow's eyebrows raised questioningly at the girl whose waist twisted to look at her, showing the side of her lace bra. She clenched her jaw to keep her eyes strictly on August's.

"I meant," August stumbled over her words, "like, it's fine. Nothing you probably haven't seen before..." Her voice trailed off, unsure of what she was even saying. She didn't want Willow to think she had to hide in the bathroom and shield her eyes just because her shirt was off, but she also didn't want her to think she necessarily wanted her to look, even though there was a part of her that was interested in the way her jaw flexed when her eyes had laid upon her.

But the truth was that August was nothing Willow had ever seen before. The woman had been with several other women in her lifetime, the countless number probably reaching into several dozens. She had seen many a shirtless woman, but the young girl's delicate, pale frame and the way the grey lace bra contrasted against her skin tones made her hands twitch at her sides. Urges to lay her hand upon the surface of the girl's back which looked as soft as silk rushed into her mind, making her chew on her lower lip as she had to pull herself away from the sight. She surfed her fingers through her black hair as she simply walked into the living room to busy herself before her hands would busy themselves with the wrong thing.

She didn't know why, but a smirk rose to her lips as she noticed how bothered the woman looked, hands nearly trembling as she exhibited her nervous habit of running them through her hair. It was something August had picked up on. She pulled the crop top on, slipping into her jeans and her Vans. She took her perfume out and made sure to generously spritz it across her neck and on her wrists, delighting in the feeling of smelling good.

Adjusting her curly brown hair in the mirror and applying Carmex, August walked out into the living room where the woman stood against the table biting her lip and staring at some magazine that Jerry had brought them that morning, obviously not reading the words. "I'm ready."

Willow's eyes flitted up to take in the girl's appearance. She held her breath, deeming that a better option than sucking in an audible gasp. She didn't want the girl to see her so flustered, but it was written across her frozen features.

The girl's tan crop top stopped right above her belly button, and she could see her thin waist that faded into her small hips, the jeans showing off her butt in a way that made Willow's mind darken with many thoughts. At this point, she knew she was too far in. All day she had been feeling these things and thinking these thoughts. Perhaps she was just horny that day and August was the only girl around she could direct her sexual frustrations towards. It wasn't hard, as the girl looked so soft and so delectable, her pink lips so destroyable and her pale neck so bitable.

Willow had to clear her throat and finally breathe in air, feeling as if she were going to faint if she held her shaky breath any longer. "Uh, okay. Let's go."

August was detecting every look on Willow's face. The dynamic between them of "cat" and "mouse" had greatly changed within the last several hours. The cat no longer wanted to rip open the rat in the cage and feast upon it.... Well, maybe it did, but in a different way than it had before. She saw the incandescent fire burning behind Willow's pupils, the way it looked like it took everything in her to not pounce on her the moment she had walked into the room.

The taller, older woman's tattooed muscles popped when she slipped the leather jacket over her toned but slender arms; August had to bite her lip in response to the sight of it. She had to admit that Willow didn't look too avoidable herself, with her long raven hair that fell down her back, her full lips that pursed every time August drew near, and her simple outfit of a black leather jacket over a white tee with black jeans and combat boots causing August to leer at her with an admiring stare.

She watched as Willow took the gun off the table and placed it into her belt, eyes shifting to August. "This isn't for you. My gang has a habit of getting out of hand at parties." She didn't want her to think that the trust she developed with her had suddenly vanished. She simply knew how her men could be.

August nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear as she followed Willow out the door.

A silent journey throughout the hotel then proceeded. August simply kept readjusting her shirt and trying to stop pulling loose strings from it, while Willow stood erect, clenching her sharp jawline as she tried to wage the battles in her mind. She couldn't let herself keep thinking about August the way she was. She was determined to regain her apathetic persona, even if on the inside she was still far from disinterested. The woman was a convincing actor—she had to ensure that August wouldn't start believing that it was acceptable for there to be any dynamic between the two besides hostage and host.

August felt a firm hand take hold of the back of her upper arm as the elevator doors opened to reveal the lobby. Raising her eyes to the woman in confusion, August suddenly remembered the way Willow had held onto her arm that way her first night at the hotel.

"Why are you doing that?" she questioned, hoping that Willow would give her any other answer in the world besides the one that came right out of her mouth next.

"So you don't try to escape." Her voice was abrasive, her eyes focusing forward and avoiding August's addled ones, for she knew that one look at the girl would soften her facade.

August didn't understand what happened to make the woman suddenly defensive, but she didn't have time to attempt to understand it as the woman was pulling her out of the elevator and walking in the opposite direction of where the dining room was. A scowl set upon August's face; she hated the way Willow held her arm. It was unbearable, and her feelings were sore from the fact that Willow's demeanor changed so quick and seemed to downscale the trust and some kind of friendship they had grown to share. August had trusted that Willow wouldn't kill her, and Willow had trusted that August wouldn't do anything to make her want to kill her. All that progress was gone, and she felt like they were right back at where they had started.

They walked down a dimly lit hallway, music seeming to radiate from inside the walls and getting louder and louder until they turned the corner and were met with a large room filled with blue light and tons of people. It was much more extravagant than any college house party August had been to; this was more like a built-in club right in the hotel. The ceilings loomed above, equipped with blue and purple lights and a few disco balls, reflecting the colors on its shards and directing it all around the big room, over the heads of dancing people and the wooden top of the bar to the left.

August remembered that she was being embarrassingly tugged around like a dog as Willow pulled her to the bar, only letting go when August was sitting on the stool right next to her. The girl's eyes scanned over the rows and rows of liquor, noticing a large, black, circular sign hanging over the shelves of bottles that read Blue Porcelain with a totem directly under it, looking like some sort of spade that she had seen in a deck of cards before.

The font of the words and the emblem looked strangely familiar to August, and she suddenly remembered seeing a tattoo on the back of Willow's neck on the rooftop of Cornell so long ago. She hadn't been able to make out the words since they were so small, but she recognized the square font and the pointy spade as the same ones behind the woman's neck.

"Miss," the bartender greeted Willow, bowing slightly. He was the only one in the enormous room who didn't look morally begrimed. "What will be your spirit of choice this evening?"

"I can't take my eyes off of that sexy bottle of Bacardi right there, Mr. Bennigan." Her smooth voice rose over the loud crowd of people and beating music.

"She's all yours!" The man took the bottle off the shelf, grabbing a glass from underneath the counter and filling it up. As he set the glass down in front of the woman who immediately took it into her large hand and took a long drink, he also set the bottle down in front of her so she could pour more as she pleased.

"And for you?" asked the man whose name was apparently Mr. Bennigan, walking to stand in front of August and leaning towards her a bit with his ear facing her so he could hear her speak over the music. He didn't do so with Willow, but apparently assumed before ever speaking to the girl that her voice would be small and wobbly, almost inaudible under the loud music, unlike the woman's who was always strong and clear, never faltering.

"Um, a Sprite, please," she told him, waiting for him to laugh at her childish order.

He didn't laugh or mock her, but only warmly smiled down at her. She felt relief in seeing such a warm and undisturbed smile for the first time in several days. "Excellent choice," he told her with a wink before pulling her a can of sprite from a small fridge, setting it down in front of her.

"Thank you." She gave him a small smile before popping open her drink.

Willow tried her best to stare down at her drink instead of the girl beside her. It was adorable how she ordered a Sprite. Sodas were hardly ever ordered at that bar, unless to be mixed with a much stronger drink. She brought the tart alcohol to her lips and tilted her head back, years of doing that same action preventing her from wincing as the strong alcohol burned her throat.

A firm pat on her back interrupted her troublesome thoughts. "Hey, chief!" Ronnie spoke through his large smile, coming up from behind Willow.

"Hey, fathead," Willow nonchalantly greeted him, downing the last bit of alcohol in her glass as August felt awkward.

"Haven't seen you around very much after the meeting yesterday morning," he said, sitting down on the stool next to Willow and ordering a rum.

"Well, I've been busy, I suppose." The woman's voice had a hint of tautness in it as she lifted her bottle of Bacardi and poured more into her glass. She was already feeling the warm relief of being tipsy, and she wanted more.

August turned her head away, thinking that the only thing Willow has been busy doing after yesterday morning was almost killing her on the rooftop and being flirty with her the next morning and then suddenly acting cold and distant again, much to August's frustration. She wanted to walk away and take a breather from being by Willow's side. It wasn't being near her that was suffocating her; it was the way she was acting that was for some reason digging daggers into August's heart and making her feel stupid for thinking she would ever be on a comfortable level with the woman who abducted her and threatened her life several times.

Her empty stare towards the door was interrupted by a figure moving into her vision. It was a man, suddenly standing so close to her that she had to lean back a little for her eyes to focus on him. He smiled at her through his patchy black beard, his blue button up left unbuttoned at the top, a few strands of his black chest hair poking out.

His smile turned into a smirk as he began to speak, "Hello, darling." His voice was raucous, and August could smell the whiskey on his breath as he leaned towards her.

The second Willow saw a figure move in the corner of her eye and stand right next to the girl sitting beside her, her head snapped over. She tried to keep her eyes from narrowing as she saw the greasy man standing there.

"Uh oh. Hank's got his eye on somebody," Ronnie spoke, his brown eyes shifting between the man nearly hovering over the girl and the woman who stared at him with daggers in her eyes. "You know how he gets on nights like these."

Willow had to struggle to turn her head away and look over at Ronnie with an annoyed look. She sighed, mentally deciding that she would let the girl wage her own wars. She had to back off and understand that she wasn't her property and never would be; she was simply some random person she was holding hostage to make sure she stayed shut up about Willow's whole situation with her gang. It was not her responsibility to act like a guard dog to the girl. She couldn't care less about what Hank's intentions were.

"I could brighten up that face of yours," Hank spoke quietly, raising his thick eyebrows. "That pretty face of yours could also probably do a lot of things, right?"

August didn't know what to say. She shifted uncomfortably, looking over at Willow for help but only finding the woman staring forward and purposefully ignoring the scene she had to have been overhearing right beside her.

A feeling of betrayal beat along with her heart that quickened its pace as she suddenly felt the man's gruff hand on her shoulder. His hand slid down her shoulder blade and to her lower back which was bare because of her crop top, causing her to inwardly shudder as she sucked in a breath and resented the feeling of his hand on her skin. She felt helpless and frozen, like her mouth was glued shut and no one was listening to her mentally scream for help.

Willow had heard the guy's line about August's "pretty face" and tried to brush off the tinge in her chest that occurred when she heard it. But then she nonchalantly decided to glance over for just a second, her keen eyes focused in on the man's hand sliding down August's back and resting at her bare curve, his fingertips pressing against her soft skin.

Cool green irises shot up towards Hank's face, and as she saw the look in his dark eyes, it was like she could read every single thought going through his mind. The way he was looking at the girl with a violent, lust-tinted gaze sent alarms going off inside her head. She hadn't noticed her own knuckles turning white as she gripped the glass threatening to shatter in her hand, and she could've sworn she felt a crack before she sharply stood up, causing Hank's eyes to shift to hers.

Before she knew it, Willow was grabbing fistfuls of the shorter man's collar, yanking his face close to hers so that he would hear her loud and clear. "Listen here, Hank." Her voice was the quietest form of thunder that August had ever heard, holding so much danger in it that even Ronnie stood up from his seat, chair creaking, in case Hank tried to rebel or Willow lost her control as she had done in the past when men of her gang did not obey her commands.

Her green eyes were hued by the blue lights in the room, but they also were hued with something else that went beyond the color of her irises. She could feel her face turn red-hot as a fire of pure, unfiltered rage ignited inside her. She pushed the man backwards, still holding onto his collar, until she was standing completely in front of August and the man was nearly tumbling backwards over the screeching chairs that she was pushing him into. Willow had to be sure that August was completely out of his disgusting line of sight.

Hank's eyes widened in both shock and in utter fear of the chilling look the woman was giving him. He gulped, breathing hard as he feared for his own life, putting his hands up in forfeiture as if that would give him a chance at surviving the woman's wrath.

"Touch her like that again," Willow menacingly growled, "and I will slice open every inch of your grimy hands and turn them inside out and make you jack yourself off with your bloody, inside out skin." Her eyes were as sharp as flares, boring through the man's soul as her breath heaved through her nostrils.

"O-Okay, Miss." His hands that held themselves up in surrender shook as he spoke. "I didn't know that sh-she was your territory."

Willow didn't deny the fact that she was acting extremely territorial, and in that moment she didn't care. All she could care about was wanting to decapitate the disgusting little man in front of her.

After glaring at him for a few moments longer, Willow finally released his shirt, her hands cramping from being balled into such tight fists. The man stumbled backwards a bit before apologizing once again and hurriedly exiting the club for his life.

August's eyes were wide and her mouth was drooped open in utter disbelief and confusion at what just happened in front of her. She didn't know what to think or say or do.

She only could watch as Willow pulled a wad of cash from her pocket and slapped it on the bar top for the bartender before grabbing August's hand and pulling her out of the room, the girl stumbling as she tried to comprehend the woman's large hand firmly holding hers, even if her grasp was tight-clenched with the anger for the man she still was trying to come down from.

Ronnie sat back down at the bar, shaking his head as he took a drink of his rum. "Lesbians, am I right?"

Mr. Bennigan just shook hishead, wiping down the counter where Willow had unknowingly spilled her Bacardi asshe stood up to protect the girl whom she obviously felt some sort ofpossession towards. That possession was only at its beginning, soon to grow tofruition.