6. Rafe

Rafe

A man in a black suit leads us through the house and abandons us promptly on the back terrace, the likes of which I've never seen before. Dane stands beside me and lets out a low whistle.

For once, I agree with his assessment. People are dressed in suits and beautiful dresses, with glasses of sparkling champagne in their hands. Every time their glasses start to empty, a man appears and tops it up. There must be a hundred people standing around. No one is paying attention to the carved snowflakes on each table or the stunningly expensive decorations. The tables are filled with foods that could feed a family for months.

The waste is horrendous, offensive, even. Just a few blocks from here, I saw people sleeping in the street. I clench my hands and slowly take in the entire scene.

"Stop it," Dane hisses.

I instantly blank my face.

"I'm going to mingle. Try not to be the judgemental little ass you can be. Eyes on the prize," Dane hisses and stalks off.

Within a minute, he has three tall models laughing at something he says. I pull at my collar and consider if I can do my mission from right here in the corner, not speaking to anyone.

I'm about to step out when she rises from the back of the terrace like a goddess. The crowd has parted, giving me the perfect line of sight. The world stills and slows down. I can hear my heartbeat. A wind picks up her long brown hair and waves it like a banner. She would stand out even if she was dressed as they are, but the leather jacket and jeans are so casual that it marks her as not belonging. Yet, it doesn't seem to bother her. She casually brushes her hair behind her ears and looks around before slipping behind the crowd.

But it's not her physical features that hold me sway, it's something more, and I frown as I try to put my finger on what it is. It's the confidence of her movements, the way she ignores the eyes that slide disapprovingly over her. She has no air of arrogance, but neither does she let her isolation affect her. She's not a part of them, she's different, and she wears that like a cloak.

I need to know more. I wipe my clammy palms on my thighs and follow her, working my way in her direction. This has to be her. 2B. Dane was right, she is my type of woman. Her eyes are guarded as she walks around, deliberately evading eye contact but keeping a polite expression on her face. A man appears and offers her a glass, but she shakes her head and keeps moving.

I stay back but follow her cautiously until she stops at the balustrade and climbs up on it, one knee bent and the other hanging off the concrete. There is no one around her. I wipe my hands on my thighs again and smooth my hair. Now's my chance, this is my in, I can't blow it.

"You seem to be enjoying this party as much as I am," I whisper, but it still startles her, and the naked fear I see shocks me, until she covers it with a sardonic laugh.

"Oh, I am. Can't you tell?"

I lean against the balustrade near her feet and face the party.

"The real question in all this is why are you not enjoying the party?" Her teasing almost covers up the accusation in her tone.

"Parties are better in books."

She laughs, a deep, husky sound that goes right to my cock. "I haven't heard that before."

"I suspect because we aren't normally stolen from our nice, warm caves very often." I flash her a grin, and the sun shines down on her face, and every thought just melts away. Pale grey eyes with long black lashes. Her cheekbones are high and her lips full. An image of her lips after I've kissed her senseless goes through my head. She shrugs out of her jacket, and I choke.

I can't remember the last time I was with a woman. It wasn't important. I'm wishing I'd taken the time now. I try to bring my thoughts back to the task, but I can't help but feel I'm in dangerous waters.

"So…who are you here for?"

She looks at me blankly.

"Bride or groom?" I clarify.

"Oh, I knew the bride when we were kids." She looks out at the garden and sighs. "So long ago." She blinks and focuses those strange eyes on me. "What about you?"

"Ah, I'm a guest of Mr Hastings," I fumble out the lie. Grasping the name of the guy who led us into the party.

"Ah, Richard. Must be fun having him as a friend. Lots of laughs."

I grimace at her knowledge of the family. Am I going to get caught out in this lie? "It has its moments."

"My name is Jax." She holds her hand out to me.

I hesitate, and then take her hand in mine. My hand tingles, and even though we pull apart quickly, I'm flustered by the way my body is reacting to her. The way I'm having trouble pulling my eyes from her.

"Rafael," I add belatedly. "My name is Rafael Whitelock."

My cheeks burn, and I stare at the waiter delivering refills. What is wrong with me? I've never been this affected by anyone.

I suddenly remember this is her. This is the woman we need. No, that's not fair. It's cruel.

"I'm looking for someone who can give me a tour of the cities' historical sites. Do you happen to know anyone?" The damn line seems so stupid now, but I can't think of anything better.

"Depends on how much you're paying."

I shrug. "Money isn't an issue."

She looks at me, and I feel like I've said something wrong, but I can't figure out what it is. I frantically search my mind but decide to just take a chance.

"Can you help me and my brother?"

"I don't live up here."

"I'm not looking at the pretty sites. I want to explore the history of Hurricane. It's a pretty interesting place with an old asbestos mine, don't you think?"

She gives me a look that implies she thinks I'm mad.

"The park no one goes to and, uh, the Dead City."

A get the faintest smile. "So you did your research."

"Of course," I say, offended.

"You want to see these places?"

"I want to see it all."

She shakes her head, stands up, and steps into my space. Her fingers spread across my chest, making me inhale hard. She stands up on her tiptoes and leans in, brushing her lips across mine. Tingles go down my spine, and in this very instant, I know something life-altering has just happened to me. "You are the weirdest tourist," she whispers when she pulls back.

My mind is still reeling, trying to recover from that soul-altering kiss. I lick my lips, trying to steal the lingering taste of her.

"Is there any point seeing something brand new? It's the places rich with history that give you shivers, those that change our views," I say back, floundering under her direct gaze. The world has narrowed down to this one woman, standing so close I can see every single eyelash. She smells like flowers and is so soft and right in my arms.

She blinks at me. "Curious. All right. I'll show you and your brother around."

"Tomorrow? I want to see you again."

She laughs, her cheeks tinging pink. "Tomorrow afternoon. I'll meet you at the Cinders Park."

I grin at her, and she smiles back, and then looks away and brushes her hair behind her ear. She glances over my shoulder and swears.

I watch in amazement as she sits on the balustrade, swings her other leg up, and drops over the other side, easily a seven foot drop, and disappearing from view.

I turn just in time to see a blonde woman in a tight white cocktail dress walk up to me, beaming. On one side, she's flanked by a stunning redhead with exotic eyes that contain a rage bubbling inside. On the other, a woman who can only be the blonde's mother.

"Welcome to my party. I'm so glad you could come."

"Thanks," I murmur, but my tongue feels thick. I don't do well lying and being deceitful. That's Dane's forte.

"We haven't met before, so I'm going to guess your friends of Dads, or Richard's, or my Philip's."

"Richard," I say quickly and wish I could jump the balustrade, too.

"Ah, well then, welcome, enjoy yourself."

I nervously reach up for my glasses that I'm not wearing. "Thanks. I will, and, uh, congratulations."

The blondes swan off, but the red head remains. She narrows her eyes at me.

"I saw you with Jax. Tell her that Mama is on a warpath, and she best steer clear."

"I don't understand-"

"You don't need to understand, sugar, just do as you're told."

The tone and words rub me the wrong way, and I bite my tongue to send back a scathing come back that would see me getting kicked out.

She smiles and taps her chest with long green nails. "Sister of the bride, sugar. I'm untouchable."

With that, she turns and saunters off.

"Please, don't hold the evil female side of my family against us all. We aren't all that bad."

I whirl and find a guy not much younger than myself staring over the balustrade and into the thick vegetation.

"Uh."

"River. I'm the eldest and only vastly outnumbered. They are evil. Just keep your dick in your pants, and it won't be used for satanic rituals."

"Jesus."

"Pray to him all you want, but if those three get you nekkid, you're fucked, brother."

He lets out a shrill whistle and hangs further down, holding out one hand. Jax explodes out of the bush and runs at the wall, clasping his hand. He grunts and pulls her up until she sits on the balustrade again.

They pant for a few seconds, then start to laugh.

"Fuck, it's been a long time since I've done that."

"So out of shape." River pants and sits down. "Damn, that used to be so easy."

"Not my fault you let your muscles melt. Bet Mason could haul me up."

"Oh, man, the way he was staring at you, I bet he'd haul you up all the way." River wiggles his eyebrows. "He wants to touch you, he wants to taste you. I bet he even wants to fuck you." River sings.

I don't know who this guy or Mason is, but the writhing jealousy that is eating me up is new and strange.

She shoves his shoulder. "Ew, don't even go there."

"But you love him," River sings and gets punched for his crime.

"Don't be gross. The man is married to this family. Blegh. I'd never subject myself to that."

"That is true. Maybe I should send him to Medusa."

She slaps his arm. "Don't be mean. Poor Mason wouldn't survive."

"Medusa?" I can't help but intrude. I want her to look at me again. I don't like that she's forgotten I exist. That in itself is alarming because I almost never want to be anyone's centre of attention.

She smiles easily at me, and it eases that heated feeling inside that's pulsing with anger. Who is Mason?

"The redhead is Medusa. The older blonde is her Highness, The Queen of Hell or as she's better known in these circles, the Devil, and the bride, well…she was the Siren."

"Still is, but she is looking to take a seat at the high table of hell," River mutters.

"Aren't they your family and friends?" I ask the guy in confusion.

River and Jax look at each other and burst into laughter. I wait, but they don't seem to want to stop.

"It's complicated," River explains with a shrug.

"Son!"

River stands up and glowers at the garden. "I'll see you soon."

"You better."

He turns to me and smiles, the most open and friendly smile I've had since I came to this city. "Nice to meet you…"

"Rafael."

"Rafe, cool. I'm River." He takes my hand and pumps it.

I take his spot on the balustrade and look over at the woman I've come here to find. Her face is a mask of misery, a sorrow so deep I can't fathom. I reach out but before I come into contact with her, she smiles and turns to me.

It's dazzling.

"I have to go, but if you're serious, I'll see you at the Cinders Park tomorrow."

I stand up and walk with her as she threads her way through the guests. People all around are paying attention to her. The three women note her exit and watch with hard eyes. Two more men stop talking to watch. On one, his face is heartbroken and, for a moment, I wonder if she was a lover. The other watches impassively, but there's something predatory about his gaze. River pauses in what he's doing, and his face drops. It's clear he doesn't want to see her go. Are they a thing?

All around her, people pause, and I don't know what it means, and it drives me wild. I feel like I'm missing something important. She doesn't seem to notice all the attention she's getting.

I walk her to the front of the house, where a waiter stops hers. He holds up a silver tray with a black dahlia on it.

She snatches the dahlia up and leaves quickly, turning only to wave at me as I hurry after her. The black sedan waits for her, and as soon as the door closes, she's gone.

I stand there thoughtfully on the doorstep, wondering who Jax Shade is and why a dahlia would make someone turn such a ghastly shade of white.