Page 14 of A Wicked Dance of Obsidian and Light (Echoes of Darkness #1)

Sighing, I close the front door of my apartment and discard all of my weapons and the takeout food I brought with me on top of the entryway table so I can take off my old black leather combat boots. I just finished my shift scouring the city for any demons to kill. The thing is, I couldn’t find any. All I did was circle the streets over and over again, but still nothing…not even one.

Which is strange. Even on the slow days, I can still find at least one or two lesser demons to kill. Tonight, though, the streets were one hundred percent dead. It was eerie quiet, like a storm brewing under the surface, on the precipice of unleashing its wrath on everything and everyone.

Weirdly, I feel more tired now than after fighting a hoard of demons. Call me a psycho, but I love my job. The chaos of being in a fight, the adrenaline buzzing through my veins, the way my sword slices through rotten meat and bones. The fact that I couldn’t get into at least one fight with a demon tonight left me reeling. At least there weren’t any drunks this early on a Tuesday morning to piss me off.

While I was roaming the streets aimlessly, my mind decided it needed a job, and I couldn’t stop the loop of images playing on repeat, forcing me to remember everything that had happened since Friday night, from almost being murdered in the woods to waking up in Kaiden’s penthouse and to Noah being back after all these years.

I desperately needed a release, and it was all made worse by the fact that I was so damn hungry. Barely having ten minutes to come back to my apartment before my shift, I got my spare hunting boots from the closet in my bedroom and called Sam to tell her about the meeting with Grayson. I didn’t have time to eat after all, and I was still upset that Kaiden had to throw away my favorite boots.

Taking the bag filled with takeout boxes of Chinese food—fried rice, spring rolls, dumplings, and kung pao chicken, all my favorites—I make my way to my living room and place them on the small coffee table in front of my couch.

After turning on the TV, I stride to my fridge and take out the bottle of Pinot Gris I had chilling in it. I pour myself a glass before I return to the living room. Plopping down on the couch, I place the glass of wine on the table and the bottle next to it on the floor.

I start eating straight out of the cartons with the wooden chopsticks while pressing play on the remote. The Vampire Diaries opening credits fill the air as I relax into the cushion. Five minutes into the episode, my phone buzzes on the table. Pausing the show, I take my phone and tap on the screen. It’s a text from an unknown number.

UN: My sheets still smell li ke you.

My heart does a flip-flop as I stare at the screen. I read the message several times before replying.

Me: Who a re you?

It has to be Kaiden, right? I mean, it’s pretty clear that I haven’t been in another man’s bed. Ever. The response comes instantly, which means he was waiting for my reply. The thought makes my insides pitch.

UN: Do you make it a habit of lying in strange men’s beds often, angel?

Usually, I hate pet names, but Kaiden calling me angel does strange things to my heart. The vivid memory of him saying that to me for the first time, only wearing a towel, looking like a walking wet dream, is forever seared into my brain. I press my thighs together at the way that image makes my breath quicken. Jesus, what is wrong with me? He isn’t even in the room. I have to have an orgasm soon, or else I’ll combust.

Me: Kaiden? How did you get my number?

No, seriously, how did he?

Kaiden: How did your meeting with Gray son go?

I roll my eyes at him ignoring my question, and even though I know I shouldn’t be talking to him at all, more so about matters of the Order, I feel the need to tell him anyway. He did save my life, after all.

Me: I told him nothing about the portal, just that some very powerful demons I had never seen before attacked me. I also lied about you rescuing me. He didn’t quite buy it…Now answer me. How did you get my number?

Kaiden: I always get what I want. Have dinner w ith me.

I huff at his cockiness.

Me: Apparently not, because there’s no chance in hell I’m going out with a demon. It’s against the rules, or have you forgotten I’m a hell seeker?

Kaiden: We could have dinner at my place where no one can see us.

Me: Yeah…not hap pening.

Kaiden: We’ll see abou t that.

Me: Someone needs a reality check.

Kaiden: Goodnight, angel. Dream ab out me.

I delete and rewrite my reply several times, but decide not to send the text in the end. I have to get my head straight. I can’t be talking to a demon, even though he ignites something in me that I have never felt before. It makes me feel unhinged, unbalanced, and a little bit crazy, like having my foot over the edge of a cliff, ready to jump headfirst into the abyss.

The irrational attraction to Kaiden has me staring blankly at thewall for more than half an hour. Out of all the people in the world, I have to be lusting over a demon? Letting out a deep sigh, I try to bring myself back to reality, but I fail…miserably. Even though I just resumed the series, my mind keeps taking me back to the moment Kaiden pinned me to the wall.

Fuck.

I fill the fourth glass to the brim and discard the empty bottle on the floor next to the couch. I usually don’t drink more than a single glass of wine after my shifts or that much in the middle of the week, to be honest, but I don’t care. I’m too wound up and need alcohol in my bloodstream to make me forget about all the shit I’ve been through. I feel like my world is spinning out its axis. At least I can be a little tipsy and enjoy the fucked-up ride.

My focus is fully on the series now, so I mouth along with Damon, then with Elena about how much control they have over each other. No matter how many times I rewatch this season, Elena and Damon’s break-up scene always leaves me depressed. I know what I need to make me feel better: some wine. Yeah, some more wine. Oh, and some ice cream. And music, definitely some music.

Standing up from the couch, I sway slightly and trip over an empty wine bottle. Who the fuck put that there? Oh, I did . I start laughing at my stupidity and go back to the fridge to look for another bottle. Shit, I can’t find any.

With the hope that I still have some more wine in there, I open the cupboard under the sink. I don’t. I only had two bottles left, and I forgot about the one I had drunk with Sam the day before. But I do have a half-full bottle of vodka that’s in the back of the cupboard since New Year’s Eve when I did shots with Sam. I ended up so shit-faced thatI spent the whole first day of the year hugging the toilet.

Mixing wine and vodka.

Should I?

Fuck it! You only live once.

I plop down on the floor, with my back resting on the fridge, and dig into the ice cream container while drinking vodka straight from the bottle. The ice cream-vodka combo is delicious.

I’m a fucking genius.

When I remember I wanted to listen to music, I connect my phone to the small Bluetooth speaker I use when I work out at home. Bad Omens “Like a Villain” blasts through the apartment, making me tap my right foot to the beat.

Standing abruptly on unsteady feet, I start dancing and screaming at the top of my lungs at the same time as the lead singer while taking swigs directly from the bottle. I keep singing, jumping around, and dancing, the bottle of vodka my dance partner. The world becomes fuzzier and fuzzier with every drop of alcohol drenching my stomach and sloshing into my veins.

I don’t know how much time has passed since I started dancing, but my clothes are plastered to my body; that’s how sweaty I am. Suddenly, bone-deep tiredness washes over me in waves. All I want is to go to sleep. But the ground keeps moving under my feet as though I’m a passenger on a boat navigating treacherous waters. To top it off, the room is also spinning.

My slow blinks do nothing to clear the foggy wall that has fallen over my eyes. When the image finally sharpens a little, I stumble to the hallway leading to my bedroom.

What the fuck?

I don’t remember the hallway being this long.

Keeping my body upright is nothing short of a Herculean task. Not even propping my hands on each wall helps. I’m stuck on a roller coaster ride that goes on and on and on. And the worst part? Each fumbling step I take is accompanied by painful stomach clenches and the acrid taste of bile as it carves its way up my throat.

Not today, Satan!

If I can only manage to get to my bedroom first, I’ll fall asleep and won’t be sick anymore.

Okay, Iris. You can do this!

After what feels like an eternity, I finally manage to get to my bedroom and fall face-first on the bed. The coolness of the sheets against my cheek feels like heaven. It only takes a few seconds for sweet blankness to take over my vision and my thoughts.

I wake with a start, blinking slowly, trying to adjust to the bright light burning my retinas. I realize I forgot to pull the drapes over my bedroom window and want to kick myself for this mistake. In an attempt to quiet the loud banging in my head, I take the extra pillow next to me and put it over my face and ears. Ah fuck. Someone took residence inside my skull and keeps hitting my brain with a hammer. At least, that’s exactly how I feel.

Where the hell are my clothes?

I’m naked on the bed. The last thing I remember is getting tired from all the dancing and trying to get to my bedroom. I definitely don’t remember undressing myself.

My throat feels like the Sahara Desert, and I desperately need to drink some water. I try lifting my head but feel the room spin with the move. So, I slowly slide to my bedside table, still on my back, and bring the glass of water on top of it to my lips without moving my head. I spill most of the water on the bed, but manage to get a sip in. Fuck. The second the water hits my stomach, the violent urge to throw up overtakes my entire body.

Jumping from the bed as fast as I can, I barely get to the bathroom in time before I start retching all the contents of my stomach into the toilet.

Fuck my life! I’m never drinking again!

Luckily, I also have an entrance to the bathroom from my bedroom; otherwise, I would have made a mess on the floor.

As I lift my head from the toilet, I realize the banging is not only in my mind; it’s coming from my front door. Sam must have forgotten her key again. She can open the door with magic, she’s a witch, after all, but she likes to fuck with me sometimes, just to piss me off. She’s the definition of an annoying sibling. She’s lucky I love her so much.

I quickly throw some ice-cold water onto my face and brush my teeth to get rid of the disgusting taste in my mouth. My reflection in the mirror is something else entirely. My hair resembles a bird’s nest, sticking in every direction, and I look exactly how I feel. Like shit. I swiftly put it in a messy bun, using the hair tie on my wrist, and amble back into my bedroom.

The pounding keeps getting louder and louder, and I shout as I rummage for something to put on, “I’m coming, you psycho! Stop banging like a madwoman!” I immediately wince at the way my head pulses in pain at the loud sound.

I can’t find my robe anywhere, so I open my closet and throw on the first thing I can find: a very old white T-shirt. It’s basically see-through, but I don’t care since it’s just Sam. I pause as I slide open my underwear drawer, my eyebrows drawing in a deep frown. What the fuck? Did I drunkenly rearrange all my underwear? Also, the pale pink lingerie set Kaiden got me is missing. I distinctly remember putting it in the back of the drawer to only use it on special occasions because I could never afford to buy such luxurious lingerie. Did someone break in just to fuck with me, or am I just that weird when I’m drunk? Another loud bang pulls me out of my thoughts, and I hastily slide on the first pair of panties I can grab and stride toward the front door.

My hallway is a disaster. I don’t know how, but a lot of the pictures that were hanging on the walls are on the floor. None of the glass is shattered, though. Thank God for that; otherwise, I would have stepped directly on broken glass. The empty takeout boxes are still on the small coffee table, the ice cream a melted puddle next to the fridge, the container tilted on its side, and the bottle of vodka empty in the middle of the living room. Shit . Did I drink all of it? No wonder I feel like a car ran me over.

The pounding on the door is incessant as I put my right hand on the knob. “Sam, I swear to God,” I mutter angrily, yanking the door open.

I freeze as I stare at the person in front of my eyes.

Strong arms suddenly pull me in a bear-like hug, and I don’t know how to react. My brain is a foggy mess.

“Um, Noah? What are you doing here?”