Page 34 of A Wicked Dance of Obsidian and Light (Echoes of Darkness #1)

The empty space left by Sam on the dance floor is quickly filled by enthusiastic dancers, crowding me with their sweaty bodies.

Ugh.

I’m still pinned in place by my indecision, looking like a freak because I’m not moving; I’m just standing here, gnawing on my bottom lip while I try to make up my mind, surrounded by people that move in a trance-like state.

As I take my first step toward the exit, the decision seems immediately wrong. So I turn on my heel and shove my way through the crowd of moving bodies. Even if it’s hard to admit, Sam is right. I’m a hypocrite, and judging Alex just by the fact that he’s a dark creature is unfair.

When I finally reach Sam at the oval-shaped bar in the middle of the massive dance floor, she has her hand in the air, signaling to the female bartender who is mixing a cocktail vigorously. “One shot of tequila, please!”

The bartender serving this side of the bar is a twenty-something, really attractive woman, her skin the color of warm amber. She’s got the most beautiful hair I have ever seen, bouncy, ash-brown curls reaching her shoulders. She reminds me of someone; I just can’t conjure a face at the top of my head. She also has the Sigil of Baphomet tattooed on her bicep, peeking from the short sleeve of her black T-shirt. If I have to guess, she’s also a wolf shifter. I have an inkling all the club employees are members of the Obsidian Conclave.

“Make that two,” I say as loudly as I can so she can hear me over the music and plop down on the empty bar stool next to Sam’s.

The bartender nods at me. Her honey-colored gaze stops at the onyx choker around my neck. Her eyebrows furrow slightly at the sight, but she doesn’t say anything about it.

Sam throws her arms around me from her chair with a big smile. “I knew you wouldn’t leave me stranded.” One of the things that I love the most about my best friend is that her fury has a short fuse. She is always quick to forgive me when I fuck up.

Sighing, I hug her back, the heady smell of wisteria and jasmine that always clings to her skin surrounding me like a cloud. “I was a bitch. Can you forgive me, please?”

She passes me a lime wedge and places one of the shots of tequila that was already sitting on the bar in my hand. “Already did. Now, let’s have some fun. Bottoms up!” she says as she clinks her glass to mine.

After I lick the salt on the back of my hand, I throw my head back and bring the glass to my lips. I try not to gag at the smell of potent alcohol hitting my nose, reminding me about the last time I got drunk. I down the shot in one go and suck on the lime wedge quickly in a failed attempt to get rid of the queasiness in my stomach. A shudder goes through me as the spirit burns the back of my throat and settles in my stomach, warming up my insides.

A meaty, sweaty hand on my left shoulder grabs my attention. A guy is standing way too close to the bar stool I occupy, looming over me.

“Hey, beautiful. Let’s dance!” he screams in my ear with such force, droplets of spit fly from his mouth and hit the left side of my face. His hot breath reeks of pungent alcohol and onions.

Eww.

He’s swaying from one foot to another, trying to keep his balance, clearly shit-faced.

I close my eyes for a brief second and tilt my head toward the ceiling, praying for patience. “No, thank you! I’d rather sit for now,” I say back with a brittle smile and turn my head again toward Sam, ignoring him.

He moves his hand to my elbow and unsuccessfully tries to hoist me up from the bar stool, making it scrape abrasively against the floor. “C’mon, don’t be a tease!”

My head snaps back at him. “Remove your hand, or I’ll do it for you,” I demand as calmly as I can, not wanting to cause a scene, but with every passing second, my blood pressure keeps rising.

“If you don’t want attention, don’t dress like a slut!” he snaps at me. More of his disgusting spittle lands on my cheek as he pulls forcefully on my elbow again.

“Uh-oh! Welcome to your funeral, buddy!” Sam chuckles out beside me.

Grabbing his sweaty fingers with my right hand and putting more force than necessary into my hold, I throw his hand off me, not before feeling the distinct crunch of his bones breaking.

He wails in pain, cradling his injured hand against his chest. “You, bitch! You broke my fingers,” he spews before taking a few stumbling steps back. He knocks into two girls who are sipping on cocktails and spills their drinks all over their clothes.

“Asshole!” one of them mutters as she gives him the stink eye. She tugs her friend’s hand, both disappearing through the moving bodies.

She got that right.

“Maybe that will teach you that no means no,” I retort.

“Fuck you!” He takes a step forward and lifts his uninjured hand like he’s about to bitch slap me. Before I can stand up and teach him a lesson, a big, muscly body appears behind the creep and grabs him by the scruff of his neck, making his feet dangle above the floor.

“Is there a problem here?” Alex asks over the loud music.

“This bitch broke my fingers,” the creep answers with indignation. His attempt at wiggling out of Alex’s grasp makes him look like a fish out of the water.

“I didn’t ask you, fuckface. You clearly deserved it.”

“Hey there, sexy!” Sam beams at Alex, receiving a smile from him in return.

I shrug. “I would hardly call the meat suit with a receding hairline and protruding beer belly a problem.” Sam snickers at my remark. “Besides, I had it covered.”

“Oh, I know you did. The boss sent me to deal with the asshole, though,” Alex says calmly. “I’ll go take the trash out, and then I’ll have my break in about half an hour. I’ll wait for you in our spot,” he says, the last part for Sam only as he winks at her. Then he moves toward the exit, still carrying the creep by the scruff of his neck like he doesn’t weigh more than a feather. Damn, wolf shifter strength is no joke.

“Yas! Momma is finally gonna get some,” Sam chirps enthusiastically as a Cheshire cat grin takes over her face. She turns to order two more shots.

“I don’t know, Sam…my last hangover is still making me question the decision of drinking alcohol.”

“Nu-uh, you’re not raining on my parade. So cut the shit, Debbie Downer! We’re having fun tonight.” She pushes the small glass filled to the brim with tequila and the lime wedge toward me. “I already have the miracle hangover juice in my purse for you. So, we can drink as much as we want.”

“Fine,” I relent and down the shot, this time in two gulps, the burn of alcohol traveling from the back of my throat all the way down to my toes.

Sam is messing on her phone, wholly absorbed by what she’s typing. She’s probably letting Alex know how excited she is about their incoming sexy rendezvous. And I’m swaying to the music, turned around on my barstool, observing the way people move on the dance floor.

Their undulating bodies seem to be driven by the haze of desire that blankets the club, like puppets on strings. I’m sure it has something to do with the mysterious dancers in the gilded cages above us. My onyx choker still pulses against my throat, but I can’t identify any immediate danger or any possessed humans. So, my best guess is that incubi and succubae demons are dancing in those cages, their pheromones thick in the air. The dancers are probably members of the Obsidian Conclave as well. If that’s the case, then it is a pretty ingenious way to feed the demons and attract humans to the club by heightening their sexual experiences and desires.

Still gazing over my surroundings, a weird-looking woman catches the corner of my eye. She is just standing there in the middle of the moving bodies, dressed in a pink vintage gown with a corset and a puffy skirt, clearly out of place. She looks like she belongs in a nineteenth-century-period movie, not in a club.

I blink against the pulsating red lights, hoping she will disappear like a figment of my imagination, but she unfortunately doesn’t. Her form ripples like water when someone passes right through her body, making a beeline for the hallway where the bathrooms are located.

Shit.

Is that a ghost?

Oh God, not again.

The song that’s playing changes to a more upbeat one, and Sam jumps abruptly from the bar stool. She drags me after her with an excited “Let’s dance! I love this song!” to the dance floor. I look over my shoulder toward the woman, but she’s gone. Huh, maybe she really was just a figment of my imagination.

Sam expertly elbows everyone in her vicinity, forcing them to make space for us, and starts swaying her hips in provocative circles while dropping low to the floor and coming up again. I’m not as good at dancing as she is, but I love it anyway, so I shake free of my inhibitions, letting the music guide my movements.

As Sam grinds her body against mine with the beat of the next song, a shiver works its way down my spine with the sensation of being watched. My eyes travel to the balconies above us until they meet obsidian eyes streaked with gold and crimson, watching me with the hunger of a predator stalking its next meal.

Time seems to stop as our gazes collide, freezing me in place. Everything goes quiet around me. The blaring music, the murmur of faded conversations, and the slurred half-shouted words of the drunken girls dancing in our vicinity. The only sound left is my heartbeat, a low drumbeat in my ears that seems to skip in irregular rhythms with every second I can’t look away. I gulp hard at the image of Kaiden sitting on a plush emerald couch in one of the private balconies on the second floor, like a dark king on his throne, keeping an eye on his undeserving subjects, a lit cigarette between his fingers. He is so handsome it almost hurts to look at him.

Gone is the Kaiden that held me to his chest while I slept, the one that cooked for me and laughed so freely around me. This Kaiden seems relaxed, sprawled with an almost bored expression painting his face, but confidence and malice radiate from him in waves. Like a pungent cologne, the undercurrent of his power seeps into every nook and cranny of the immense space, ready to strike and snap your bones if you as much as dare to look in the direction of the cruel, dark king.

I’m so ensnared by the way he looks at me like he can peel every layer of my skin from my bones only with his eyes that I don’t even notice until the very last moment the scantily clad woman with a razor-sharp bob and legs a mile long planting herself in his lap. Maeve bends to whisper something in his ear, one of her hands stroking over the dark fabric of his jeans, where his crotch is.

Everything comes rushing back as the caustic burn of jealousy spreads through my body like wildfire, taking me by surprise with the sheer force of it. It makes my breathing ragged as I clench my fists hard, the crescent indentations left behind in the palms of my hands bloody. Me and Kaiden, we didn’t promise each other anything. I know that. So why do I feel like someone stabbed me right through the heart with a fiery dagger?

Nope, I’m not jealous over a demon.

Nuh-uh, not even a tiny bit.

“What happened?” Sam asks me, her forehead crinkling, concern evident in her tone as she turns around, trying to see what I was looking at just a second ago.

“Nothing,” I respond, way too flustered for it to be nothing. Like the presence of Kaiden could ever be…nothing. Fuck. My heart bleeds all over the dance floor as needles stab at the back of my eyes.

Her head snaps back at me. “Iris, what the hell? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Kaiden’s here,” I admit to the source of my distress.

“WHAT? Where?”

“VIP section, second floor balcony. Please be subtle.” I beg her with my eyes.

She turns around again, and I guess she finds him in the crowd because she exclaims loudly, “Holy shit, he’s way hotter in reality!” She keeps gawking at him.

So much for being subtle.

“Don’t stare at him, weirdo!” I hiss at her, then pinch the bridge of my nose hard. Curling my fingers around her bicep, I drag Sam toward the bar.

“I don’t know if I can look away…fuck, that woman is rubbing him like she wants the Genie to come out and grant her three wishes.” Her mouth turns down in disgust. “Is that the woman you told me about? What’s her name…Maeve?”

“Yeah,” I mutter and continue pulling her with me to the bar. I can still feel Kaiden’s burning gaze on me, but I refuse to look at him again. The two shots of tequila I downed earlier suddenly don’t seem like enough. I need more alcohol in my system to erase the image of Maeve making herself at home in his lap and rubbing his cock. Shit . Just picturing it in my head makes my blood boil again.

“Four shots of Patrón, please!” I say to the bartender as I rest my forearms on the bar, waiting for our drinks.

“Woohoo! Now we’re talking, baby!” Sam exclaims enthusiastically. “I can’t have more than four shots total, though. I still have to meet up with Alex, and I don’t like drunk, sloppy sex,” Sam tells me as she downs her third shot of the night.

I do the same and suck on the lime wedge. This time, the burn of alcohol doesn’t hold the same bite. After we both drink our fourth shots, Sam turns to me. “I need to pee. Come with?”

“Nah, I’ll wait for you here. I don’t want to break the seal.”

“Are you sure? Listen, if Kaiden being here makes you uncomfortable, we can go,” Sam murmurs as a concerned look takes over her stunning face.

I scoff. “Yeah, Mom. I’m sure.”

She throws me a side-long glance. “No, really, Iris. You looked like you were about to cry when you saw him with that Maeve bitch. Maybe we should go.”

And give him the satisfaction of knowing how hurt I really am?

Yeah, there’s no way.

Rolling my eyes, I put on a mask of indifference. “I’m okay, Sam. I couldn’t care less what Kaiden does. He can go fuck himself, or Maeve, for that matter. I don’t give a shit.”

The way she arches her eyebrow tells me she doesn’t believe an iota of what I just said and sees right through my bravado but chooses not to say anything about it. “’Kay, I’ll be right back. Drink some water. Your eyes are starting to glaze over.”

After getting my confirmation that I will indeed drink some water, Sam weaves her way through the dancing bodies graciously. A few men standing at the far end of the bar follow her with their eyes until she’s out of sight.

Alone, I turn to the bartender, order two more shots of tequila, and down them back to back. The spirit rolls over my tongue and in the back of my throat like water. I don’t even need to bite into the lime wedge to take the edge off.

Taking my phone out of my cross-body bag, I shoot a text to Noah.

Me: I changed my mind. You can take me on a date if you still w ant to.

The reply comes instantly.

Noah: How does dinner tomorrow at Ciprianni’s sound?

Me: P erfect.

Noah: I’ll pick you up at 8. Can’t w ait. Xx

Me: See you to morrow.

While I’m swaying to the music near the bar, waiting for Sam and arguing with the annoying voice in my head that keeps telling me to turn around and look at Kaiden one more time, a guy with russet hair and hazel eyes approaches me sheepishly, holding a glass of bourbon on ice. He is a smidge taller than me, dressed in dark blue jeans and a white tee. He looks nice, soft, and conventionally attractive, but he doesn’t make my heart stop or flutter in any way.

Like a certain Elite demon does, the annoying voice makes its presence known again.

Ugh, shut the fuck up!

His carefully styled hair flops over his forehead as he bends slightly and comes closer to my ear so I can hear him over the music. Thankfully, he doesn’t come too close. This time, I will punch anyone even remotely sleazy who dares approach me.

“Hey, my friend over there and I saw you guys on the dance floor and wondered if you would like to join us for a drink or maybe dance.” He points at his friend leaning on the bar across from us, nursing his drink.

I’m about to refuse him when the image of Maeve dropping into Kaiden’s lap flashes through my mind again. The acidic burn of jealousy shreds my heart to ribbons for the umpteenth time tonight.

Why the fuck does it bother me so much?

“I would love to dance.”

“Shit, really?” Two red spots cover his cheeks. “I mean, I didn’t expect you to actually say yes. I came here at my friend’s dare—”

“Um, Iris, Alex is waiting for me. He finally took his break. Are you good here?” Sam cuts him off and pulls me closer to her. I didn’t even notice she came back from the bathroom.

“Yeah, sure, we’re just going to dance,” my words come out a bit slurred at the end, the alcohol buzzing through my veins, making me giggle. I’m not drunk yet; I’m tiptoeing the line between tipsy and drunk. Another shot will push me right over the blissful edge, though.

She throws me a confused look because she knows very well how much I hate it when guys hit on me, and I always reject their advances. “Are you sure? I can tell Alex to meet me after his shift.”

“One hundred.” I nod vigorously and circle my arms around her neck. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?” I plant a big, sloppy kiss on her right cheek, leaving behind the imprint of my lipstick.

Her eyebrows pull together in a frown at my gesture. “Fuck, you’re already drunk. You did more shots after I left, didn’t you? Now I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Rolling my eyes at her, I puff out an annoyed breath. “Um, hello, have you met me? I can drop-kick a demon; I think I’m going to be safe by myself. Besides, I’m just tipsy. I’m not drunk, I promise.”

“Fine, but no more drinks.” She points a finger at me. “I’m serious.”

“’Kay, Mom,” I snicker.

“When the fuck did I become the responsible parent?” Sam mumbles mostly to herself, still not moving from my side.

“Oh my God! GO already! Otherwise, you’re going to complain all night that your vagina will shrivel up and die if you don’t get any dick.” I slap her ass and push her in the direction of the hallway where the bathrooms are located.

“Fine, I won’t be long,” she says to me and then looks over her shoulder to the russet guy waiting patiently for us to finish our conversation as he puts his empty glass on the bar. “Don’t let her drink more alcohol! And if you by any chance do anything to hurt her, I’ll cut off your dick and give it to my cat as a treat.” Sam doesn’t wait for him to answer and makes her way through the crowd of moving bodies.

“Damn, your friend is kinda scary,” Russet Guy says as he approaches me again, taking Sam’s place.

I laugh loudly and pull him with me on the dance floor. “You have no idea.”

We wiggle our way through the crowd and finally manage to find a small empty space where we can dance without being pushed from all directions. He puts his hands on my hips and comes closer, his hot breath tickling my ear. “I’m Brad, by the way. What’s your name, princess?”

Ugh, I’m already getting annoyed with him, but I need something to erase the memory of Kaiden from my brain. It’s like he managed somehow to crawl under my skin because I can still feel his gaze singeing me, my body responding as if he’s standing right next to me, touching me.

But that’s impossible, right? Why would he still be watching me? Surely, he doesn’t care that much, not if he let Maeve touch him like that while I was watching. He’s busy anyway, getting a hand job over his jeans.

“I miss those perfect lips, angel. Can’t wait to taste them again.”

What a fucking liar. And I actually believed him.

Stupid, na?ve Iris.

That’s what I get for trusting a demon.

“I’m Melanie,” I tell him, not wanting to give him my real name.

The song blasting through the speakers changes to a slower, more provocative tune, and my movements do, too. I close my eyes, letting the alcohol erase my inhibitions while the impulse to give Kaiden a taste of his own medicine overtakes me completely.

With the beat of the seductive song, I let my body be driven by the fog of desire and lust that blankets the club. I don’t want to think; I want to be another one of the puppets on strings in the middle of the dance floor. I turn my back to Brad, raising my arms until I reach his hair, just like I did with Kaiden only a few days ago. I weave my fingers through it and start swaying my hips to the music. He melds his body against mine, and I can feel how happy he is about our dance.

He bends slightly, since we are about the same height, and kisses the side of my neck. His lips touching my skin don’t get any response from my body, but still, I need more. I want him to kiss me, to erase Kaiden’s memory from my lips. I turn around and close the space between us until we share the same breath.

“God, you’re so—” Just as Brad is about to dip and kiss me, a tall, hard, tattooed body comes in between us, making me yelp in surprise, and lifts Brad by the throat so his feet dangle a few inches above the dancefloor.