Page 17 of What Happened on Roslyn Street? (Strode University #1)

“I don’t know what you are to me.” The honesty behind his words is jarring. “That’s what tonight is about, isn’t it?”

I nod weakly, eyes locked onto him as I take a delicate sip.

He follows suit, tilting his head back to drink generously.

“Well?” he asks. “Do you like it, or should I order something else?”

“It’s fine,” I say. “This isn’t my first old fashioned. Don’t be so full of yourself.”

“My apologies,” he murmurs, ducking his head as if to hide a smile.

I take another drink, more to prove myself than because I want to. The whiskey burns, and I can already feel a slight tingle in my body.

“What do you usually do here?” My eyes sweep over the large room.

“The same thing as everyone else,” he says. “Drink. Dance. Mingle.”

“You don’t seem like the type to enjoy those things.” My fingers move to dance along his skin, grazing at his bicep. “Can I expect to see a new version of you tonight?”

“No,” he says. “But I hope to help you realize there is more to me than you thought. Did you think of me as a friendless stick in the mud?”

My lips twitch into a smile. “Sort of.”

“Finish up, then.” He knocks back the rest of his drink and sets the glass down. “I’ll show you.”

I don’t know what he means until he’s pulling me through the crowded room again. I feel safe, even though I don’t want to, with my fingers tight in his and my chest pressed to his back. His larger body blocks me from the others.

The music grows louder as we move, and I realize where he’s taking me.

“Oh!” I gasp.

The lighting is dim and red, but there’s enough that I can see the bodies pressed together.

It’s an intimate scene, with lips on necks, and I don’t think they’re exchanging kisses.

Caldwell watches me rather than giving attention to the others. “Would you like to dance?” His eyes skim my face for an answer.

I want to run . I have never felt a greater urge to escape from him. Dancing in a crowd of vampires is my idea of hell. With the way he watches me, soft and uncertain, I think he’ll back off if I tell him to. I could end this all. I could go home.

But I won’t.

“I would love to.” I take the initiative to pull him into the crowd myself.

I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve danced with people before—many people—but never someone like Caldwell. Unless Margaux counts; she’s the only other vampire I’ve knowingly mingled with.

The hunger in his eyes is terrifying, and it has been since we met—but, god, tonight, it’s exhilarating. My pulse jumps as the crowd pushes us closer.

His hands are surprisingly gentle when they find my waist. His gaze searches mine for an answer, curious but intense. I respond with my body—arms moving around his neck, pushing myself closer.

This is safe. I won’t become one of the people with fangs in their neck, but for now—this is fine. I’ve done this before.

His body moves in time with the music, and I try to follow suit, my hips swaying.

Graceful hands slide down to my hips, using the touch to guide my movements. The crowd jostles us closer until our chests are flush.

Caldwell is a breath away, his lips parted, staring like I’ve hypnotized him.

But in the red light of the club, I’m the one losing myself. The light flashes in his eyes, and I can’t look away. My body moves of its own accord. I grind against him. I’m locked in on him, infatuated with the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

He squeezes me tighter, his fingers pressing into my hips. His thigh slots between my legs in a way that leaves me gasping for air. A similar sound escapes his mouth, grunting as I rock myself into him.

For the first time in days, my worried thoughts fade. Pleasure pools in my core. The people in the crowd are distracted, and I am, too.

The only thing on my mind is the pulsing between my thighs.

He leans down, his breath tickling my ear as he speaks.

“Do you like that?” he asks.

My fingers trail down his shoulders, grazing against the fabric covering his chest.

“Yes,” I whisper. The answer comes easily.

In the next breath, he spins me around, pulling me against him. I find myself relishing in the feeling of his strong figure behind me, swaying as if the music has hypnotized me.

It hasn’t. Nothing has—aside from a desperate need to let loose after the most harrowing time of my life.

I shouldn’t be letting loose with him , but he’s here. Caldwell is warm—surprisingly so, nothing like Margaux’s cool skin. Heat radiates from the friction between our bodies. His hands are graceful and delicate, yet there’s a strength I can’t deny.

I lift my head to meet his gaze, only to find his eyes locked on me. He’s straining in his pants. His hard bulge presses against my ass, and I push back. My lips part in surprise.

He bends lower, close enough for me to hear. “That’s what you do to me.”

“I want to do so much more to you.” It’s surprisingly easy to tease him. I press myself harder against him, a giggle escaping my lips.

“Don’t tempt me,” he mutters.

His fingers graze lower. They slip under the fabric of my dress.

He teases my thighs. Caldwell’s breath on my skin sends shivers up my spine. We’re close enough to kiss. My lids flutter shut, arching to press my ass against him, when?—

The spell breaks and I’m the one to break it. Poppy’s face enters my mind. I blanch, pulling away from him. Without the heat between us, I’m frozen, snapping back to reality—back to who I am.

I’m Tobey. I’m here to take Poppy’s killer down. I don’t get to let loose and have fun—I definitely don’t get to do this!

There’s no resistance as I tug away, turning to face him, smoothing my short-cropped hair. These are probably the same seduction techniques Poppy’s killer used on her, and—God, I could be sick.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

I read the movement of his lips more than I hear the words.

“Nothing!” I say, letting out a nervous laugh. Anything to diffuse the situation. “It’s a little… just a little hot in here, no?”

He smiles tentatively. “A little.”

“I’m going to use the restroom.” I let out a shaky breath. “I’ll meet you by the bar?”

There’s a moment of hesitation before he nods, pointing in the distance. “It’s down that hallway. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you.”

For a moment, our eyes meet, and he reflects the uncertainty I feel. It takes me longer to untangle myself from the situation than I would like. My feet are planted on the floor, and I search his darkened gaze for answers.

I scurry off to the bathroom. Sort of.

Of course, I’m not going there. This is the one chance to find something in this dreaded club, and even though I don’t know what I’m looking for, there must be something .

It’s easy to find the bathroom, considering the sign on the door: a very classy lettering claiming the room is the powder room.

Good to know, but I have more important things to do than wait in the endless line. I sneak upstairs instead. The world around me goes quiet as I move. The music is muffled.

I’m not the only one up here. There are couples wrapped up in each other, pressed against the walls.

The place is as lavish as the rest: gold-framed paintings litter the halls, and flickering red light illuminates the space.

I keep my head down as I wander through, pushing on the doors with the hope that they’ll open.

One door. Two. Three. All locked, and with amorous sounds coming from the inside. Ick .

If there’s anything to find, I would have to get by the happy couples to do it.

Finally, door number four springs open—and the same sounds flood out. Moans and grunts greet me.

But I don’t see the people in the room. I don’t hear their noises. My eyes are drawn to a large painting in the middle of it all: a man in a red velvet suit, wearing a bird mask—the mask of a plague doctor, to be exact. A pocket watch dangles from his hand.

It’s the same mask I found on Roslyn Street. Is the watch the same one I’m holding onto?

I don’t know why, but when I stare at the painting, the back of my neck prickles.

Someone is watching me.

Two people are, actually—I forget until I hear the string of French curses coming from one of them.

“Merde!” It’s the only word I understand, thanks to my friendship with Margaux. Everything else becomes a jumble of French that has me grasping for the three years I took in high school—to no avail.

My eyes widen, and my attention moves to the couple. There’s a man tied up in rope and a woman—well, on second thought, it really is none of my business.

“I’m sorry!” I yelp, shutting the door and rushing away.

Nothing. I found absolutely nothing.

I run down the halls with a terrified look on my face until someone stops me—none other than Caldwell himself.

“You’re lost,” he says.

It’s not a question, not even an assumption, but spoken as if he won’t believe anything else.

“I am.” My pulse races.

“It’s fine.” He dismisses my disappearance, his hands moving to my shoulders. “We have to go. Now.”

Caldwell uses the grip on my shoulders to lead me through the house. I don’t need to look up to know his expression is severe. He leads me downstairs. The scene is different from the place I left.

It’s no longer the dim-lit den of revelry. The lights are on. The room is quiet. Everyone is huddled around something—or someone.

“What happened?” I whisper, looking up at Caldwell with wide eyes.

“An accident,” he says. “We really must go.”

Caldwell is urgent as he guides me out of the house, pushing me past the crowd. It’s impossible to miss what he’s hiding from me. Another body.

If I didn’t know better, I would say he’s freaked out. He’s quiet and urgent, shuddering as soon as we step out of the house.

He’s a decent actor, I’ll give him that, but I won’t fall for his tricks again. The watch alone may not be enough to say Caldwell is involved, but...

I left him and came back to him running from a body. His pocket watch is on a creepy painting, wearing the same mask I found near Poppy’s body. The evidence against Caldwell is piling up.

It may even be enough to convince Margaux, but instead of acting, I let him lead me around. He pretends to be shaken, going completely silent until we’re walking to my dormitory.

The night air sends shivers up my spine, and my arms wrap around myself to stay warm. Goosebumps form across my skin. Is it from the cold or fear?

“What did you see?” He’s dripping with urgency, and this is when I know I was right all along .

I’m not sure what he’s referring to—the body or what I saw upstairs. Either way, it’s clear there is something in the club Caldwell doesn’t want me to see.

“Um…” I laugh it off, hoping to seem flustered. “Consensual BDSM, if you must know.”

He lets go of my shoulders and steps away. “Jesus…” Rubbing at his temples, he exhales slowly through his nose. “You didn’t see—the body? The killer? Anything?”

“No. It must have happened when I was upstairs, right?”

“It did. All hell broke loose the second you left. It was terrible, but I’m glad you weren’t around for it.”

“Did you see anything?”

“It was a dark room. I didn’t know what happened until they turned on the lights.”

“Right.” I stop outside my dormitory. “Just another day in Castine, I guess.”

“Are you all right?”

“Would anyone be? I’m a little shaken.”

At least when I talk about being shaken, it isn’t a lie. While I’m staying surprisingly calm, I wasn’t expecting the night to take such a drastic turn.

What happened when I was gone?

He sighs slowly, running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. Me too.”

“I think we should sleep it off.”

He nods, agreeing—but doesn’t budge from his spot.

“Well… I had a nice night,” he says, “aside from nearly losing you. And the uh… murder.”

“There’s always an aside after our dates.”

“I enjoy myself nevertheless.”

“But you weren’t going to lose me. You’re very dramatic,” I say, smiling softly. “I’m sure you’ve been told that before.”

“I have.” He hesitates. “Will I see you again?”

“I imagine you will.” I’m evading the question. Things nearly went too far tonight; should I continue the ruse? “We’ll see each other on campus.”

He smiles wryly. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

I take a deep breath, subtly stepping closer, my hands resting on his chest. “I had a nice time too. Text me when you’re back in your dorm.”

“I will.”

The air between us is thick with tension. He leans in—and my lips part in surprise.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks softly.

His eyes are warm, his expression soft as he peers into my soul. Warmth blossoms in the pit of my stomach—and transforms into frigid terror.

I nearly kissed him in the club, and I won’t let it happen again. Distractions are not an option—and they’re not allowed to come in the form of my only suspect.

I press my hands against his chest, stopping him before his lips can find mine.

“Is it all right if we… take things slow?” I bite at my lower lip, feigning nervousness.

He inhales shakily, stepping away. “Of course. I apologize. Rushing isn’t my preference. I’m generally not…”

My hands fall to my sides. “No, I know!” I laugh, hoping the sound is calmer than I feel. “It has nothing to do with you; it’s what’s best for me right now. That’s all.”

“Then that’s best for me as well. I’m happy to take it as slow as you need.”

“Great. Then… you can text me. Like I said.”

“And, as I said, I will.”

I don’t give him time to say anything more before scurrying inside and locking the door behind me.