17. Chapter 17

17

Chapter 17

Rowan

F or the second time in two days, I'm stepping through the doors to the Nocturne Lounge, grateful that Kara's code worked on the keypad. The bass thumps through my body, matching my racing pulse. Neon lights flicker and dance across the faces of the patrons, casting eerie shadows that seem to move of their own accord.

I take a deep breath to calm myself and end up inhaling a lungful of scents: expensive perfume, pheromones, blood…lust. It makes my skin prickle.

I scan the crowd, searching for any sign of my mysterious contact. Vampires and humans alike mingle on the dance floor, their bodies intertwined in a sensual rhythm. I spot a few witches, too, their auras flickering at the edges of my magical vision. Once again, it surprises me. All my life, I've been certain of the great divide between our kind, yet here, I see that there's a segment of our society that seems quite happy to mingle.

It doesn't make what I'm doing any less dangerous, however.

"God, Rowan," I mutter to myself. "This is definitely not the smartest idea you've ever had."

I remember my last visit here, and Darick's words echo in my head: Don't come back here. I forbid it. My shoulders straighten.

"I forbid it. Hah!" I make my way to the bar, figuring it's as good a place as any to wait. The bartender, a tall vampire with pale silver eyes, gives me a once-over as I approach.

"What'll it be?" he asks, raising his voice over the pulsing music.

"Just water," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. I need to keep my wits about me.

My eyes continue to dart around the room, searching for anyone who might be my contact. Every shadow seems to hide a potential threat, every stranger a possible ally or enemy. The weight of my decision to come here alone presses down on me, making it hard to breathe.

"Freakin' fairy dust," I whisper, fidgeting with my earring. "Where are you?"

I'm about to turn back to the bar when I spot him. Darick. My stomach knots as I watch him glide through the crowd, his presence snaring attention without effort. He hasn't seen me yet, but I can't tear my eyes away.

That bastard!

Is he here for another witch? Not that I should care, but the thought sends a spike of jealousy through me. I immediately try to squash it. I have no right to feel this way. I don't want anything to do with him… I don't!

Before I can decide whether to hide or confront him, Darick's eyes lock onto mine. His expression shifts from surprise to anger in an instant.

Great. Just what I need.

He's at my side in seconds. He's furious. "What the hell are you doing here, Rowan?"

I lift my chin, refusing to be intimidated. "None of your business, Darick. I'm here for my own reasons."

"Your own reasons?" He scoffs. "Do you have any idea how dangerous this place is for you? Why won't you ever learn?"

His words ignite my temper. "Save your phony concern, Darick. You're just worried I might interrupt your feeding time."

Darick's eyes narrow. "Is that what you think I'm here for?"

"Isn't it?" I snap back, my voice rising. "Or are you going to pretend you weren't about to sink your fangs into some willing witch?"

Our argument is drawing attention now. I can feel the curious stares of nearby patrons, but I'm too angry to care.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Darick growls. "And you're going to get yourself killed if you keep acting so recklessly."

"I can take care of myself," I insist, even as a part of me wonders if I really can. "For the last time! I don't need your protection or your lectures."

I barely have time to protest before Darick's hand closes around my wrist, pulling me away from the bar. He leads me through the crowd, his grip firm but not painful. We end up in a dimly lit alcove, hidden from the main room by heavy velvet curtains.

"Let go of me," I hiss, yanking my arm free.

Darick releases me but doesn't back away. His eyes, stormy with emotion, lock onto mine. "Rowan, you need to leave. Now."

"I told you, I'm here for a reason," I snap back, crossing my arms. "And before you ask, it's none of your business."

He rakes a hand through his thick hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. "For fuck's sake, Rowan! You're walking into a nest of vampires, alone and unprepared. Again!"

"I'm not unprepared," I retort, even as a flicker of doubt creeps in. "I can handle myself. I've been…practicing."

"Practicing?" he snorts. "You mean with that little boy witch of yours?"

My eyes widen. How the hell would he know? But then again, of course he knows. He lives in my head. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Darick huffs out a breath. "For fuck's sake!" He steps closer, his voice dropping to a low, intense whisper. "You have no idea what you're up against. Lucien—"

"Lucien?" I interrupt, my curiosity piqued despite my anger. "What about him?"

Darick's jaw works. "Because he's going to come after you, for fuck's sake! And you're giving him every opportunity."

His words chill me, but I refuse to show weakness. "I'm not afraid of him."

"You should be," Darick growls.

We're standing so close now that his body is almost brushing against mine. My heart races, and I'm not sure if it's from fear or…something else.

"Why do you care?" I half-whisper.

Darick's eyes soften for a moment, and I see a flicker of vulnerability there. "Stop asking me that," he says quietly.

The tension between us shifts, electric and dangerous. For a moment, I forget why I'm angry with him, lost in the intensity of his gaze.

Before I can respond, Darick's lips crash against mine. The kiss is hard, almost punishing, his frustration and desire pouring into me. For a moment, I'm too shocked to react. Then something inside me snaps, and I'm kissing him back with equal fervor.

My hands fist in his shirt, pulling him closer as his arms wrap around me. The world fades away – the pulsing music, the crowd just beyond the curtain, even my own doubts and fears. All that exists is Darick, his mouth on mine, his body pressed against me.

I gasp as he pushes me back against the wall, the surface cool against my skin. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, tasting, claiming. I meet it with my own, our kiss turning into a sensual battle for dominance.

One of his hands slides up my back, grasping my ponytail to tilt my head, deepening the kiss even further. The other grips my hip, his fingers digging in almost painfully. I should push him away, should remember all the reasons why this is a terrible idea. But God help me, I don't want to stop.

I arch against him, a soft moan escaping me as I feel the hard planes of his body. His answering growl sends shivers down my spine. He breaks the kiss, trailing his lips along my jaw to my neck. When he reaches the sensitive spot just below my ear, I can't stifle my whimper.

"Darick," I breathe, not sure if I'm begging him to stop or continue.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes dark with desire as they meet mine. "Tell me to stop," he says, his voice rough. "Tell me you don't want this, and I'll walk away right now."

I open my mouth, knowing I should do exactly that. But the words won't come. Instead, I find myself saying, "Don't stop. Please."

A flash of triumph lights his eyes before he captures my lips again. This kiss is slower, deeper, but no less passionate. His hands roam my body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. I explore him in turn, running my fingers through his hair, tracing the strong line of his jaw, feeling the muscles of his back flex under my touch.

He breaks the kiss again, trailing his lips down my neck. I tilt my head, giving him better access. The scrape of his fangs against my skin sends a jolt of both fear and arousal through me. He doesn't bite, not yet, but the possibility hangs between us, thrilling and dangerous.

His hands find the hem of my top, slipping underneath to caress bare skin. I gasp at the contact, arching into his touch. He groans, pressing closer, and I can feel the hard line of his cock against my hip.

"We shouldn't be doing this," I murmur, even as I pull him closer.

"No," he agrees, his voice muffled against my skin. "But I can't seem to stop."

Neither can I, I realize. It's like a dam has broken, all the desire we've been holding back flooding out at once. I know this is reckless, that anyone could walk in on us at any moment. But right now, I don't care.

I tug at his shirt, desperate to feel more of him. He obliges, stepping back just long enough for me to fumble the buttons open. I drink in the sight of him – broad shoulders, chiseled abs, skin pale and perfect. Unable to resist, I lean forward, pressing my lips to his chest. His sharp intake of breath encourages me, and I continue my exploration, kissing and nipping my way across his torso.

His hand cradles the back of my head, guiding me back up to his mouth. As we kiss, he reaches for the hem of my skirt, sliding the fabric up my thigh and bunching it over my hips.

"Fuck," he groans, looking down at my bare thighs and the scrap of black lace that covers my mound.

I blush, suddenly feeling exposed. But before I can feel self-conscious, Darick is kissing me again, his hands roaming over newly exposed skin. I moan into his mouth as his fingers trace the edge of my panties, teasing but not quite where I want them.

"Darick," I whimper, pressing into his touch.

He smirks against my lips. "Yes, little witch?"

"Please," I breathe, beyond caring about pride or propriety or the fact that there is a crowd of partygoers dancing just beyond the veil of the curtains.

His fingers finally slip beneath the fabric, and I gasp at the contact. He strokes me slowly, teasingly, his fingertip tracing the seam of my pussy before rubbing my clit. I cling to his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin as pleasure courses through me.

Just as I'm about to reach my peak, he withdraws his hand. I whine in protest, but he silences me with a kiss. "Not yet," he murmurs against my lips. "I want to taste you first."

Before I can process his words, he's sinking to his knees in front of me. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of my panties, yanking them down in one swift movement.

The first touch of his tongue on the throbbing nub of my clit makes me cry out, my head falling back against the wall. He licks and sucks, alternating between teasing flicks and firm strokes. I bite my lip, trying to muffle my moans, all too aware of how exposed we are.

Darick grasps my thighs, holding me steady as he works me higher. I thread my fingers through his hair, gripping him firmly against me. The pleasure is almost too much, overwhelming in its intensity.

Just when I think I can't take anymore, he slips two fingers inside me, curling them in a way that has me seeing stars. The dual sensation pushes me over the edge, and I clamp a hand over my mouth as I come undone with a muffled cry, my body shuddering with release.

Darick works me through it, only pulling away when I tug gently at his hair. He stands, kissing me deeply, and I can taste myself on his tongue. It's erotic in a way I never expected.

As we kiss, I reach for the fastening of his pants, fumbling slightly in my eagerness. He helps me, pushing them down his thighs along with his underwear. I wrap my hand around him, stroking slowly, relishing the way his breath hitches.

"Rowan," he groans, his forehead resting against mine.

I know I should stop, but I'm past the point of rational thought. I want him; consequences be damned.

He lifts me easily, and I wrap my legs around his waist. I can feel the head of his cock poised at my entrance, hard and ready. Our eyes lock as he slowly pushes inside, stretching and filling me in the most delicious way.

We both groan as he bottoms out. For a moment, we're still, adjusting to the sensation. Then Darick starts to move, setting a slow, deep rhythm that has me gasping with every thrust.

I cling to him, my nails digging into his back as he drives into me. The pleasure builds quickly, my body still sensitive from my earlier orgasm. Darick's movements become faster, harder, his control slipping as we both near the edge.

"Darick," I pant, feeling my release approaching. "I'm close."

"Come for me, little witch," he growls, his thrusts becoming erratic.

His words push me over the edge, and I come yet again with a cry that I stifle against his shoulder. Darick follows moments later, groaning my name as he finds his own release.

We stay like that for a long moment, both of us panting and trembling. Slowly, reality starts to seep back in. I can hear the music again, the chatter of the crowd just beyond our little alcove. Shame and regret start to creep in, at odds with the lingering pleasure.

Darick sets me down carefully, steadying me when my legs threaten to give out. I tug my skirt down awkwardly, not quite sure what to say.

Finally, Darick breaks the silence. "Rowan, I—"

"Don't," I cut him off, unable to meet his eyes. "Just…don't."

He opens his mouth to speak, but the curtain is pulled open, and I freeze as I stare into the face of a tall, dark-haired vampire who looks from me to Darick with unbridled curiosity.

"Well." He gives a light chuckle. "I don't think I need to ask what's been going on in here."

"What do you want, Marcus?" Darick barks.

"Do I need to remind you? Arabella will be here any minute."

"Shit." Darick's features darken as he glances at me, then back at Marcus. "Tell her to wait."

"Are you mad?" Marcus scoffs. "Look, I don't want to break up your little…party," he looks at me, "but you know why we're here. You know why this is important."

Darick frowns at me, then starts buttoning his shirt. "Wait here," he tells me. "Do not move. Do you understand me?"

I stare at him silently.

Is he kidding?

"I'm serious, Rowan!" His voice is sharp. Marcus is looking at his watch. "Goddammit! Just wait…please," Darick mutters with one last look at me before stepping out of the alcove.

I hover uncertainly for a minute or two after his sudden departure. What the hell just happened?

God, you're an idiot, Rowan!

I don't know why the man affects me the way he does. I look around until I find my panties draped haphazardly over a nearby seat. Reaching for them, I clumsily put them on, then straighten my clothes.

"Remember what you're here for, Rowan!" I tell myself, determined to bolster my courage. Then I yank open the curtains and slip out of the alcove.

I push through the throng of bodies, my mind reeling from what just happened with Darick. I need to get back to the bar, to focus on why I'm really here. Mia. I have to find out about Mia.

Suddenly, I feel a sharp jab against my ribs. A rough voice hisses in my ear, "Don't struggle, witch, or this blade ends up in your heart."

My blood turns to ice. I freeze, unable to process what's happening. The point of the blade pierces my skin as I'm shoved through the crowd. Panic rises in my throat, but I can't scream. I can't do anything.

Magic! Find your magic!

My mind flounders as I try to reach for it.

Why aren't the wards working?

We reach a dimly lit corridor off the main dance floor. Adrenaline surges through me, and I twist, breaking free from my captor's grip. I raise my hands, praying I'll be able to unleash my magic, but before I can, something hits me. It feels like…a spell? But that's impossible. Vampires can't cast spells. Can they?

My magic falters, slipping away like water through my fingers. I blink, trying to focus on my attackers. Vampires, definitely, but there's something else. Something…different. My vision blurs, and I can't quite make it out.

As consciousness starts to slip away, I catch a glimpse of my abductors. Pale faces, gleaming fangs, but something prickles at the edge of my awareness. Something I can't quite understand.

The last thing I feel is being lifted, carried away from the pulsing music and flashing lights of the club. Then, darkness claims me.