dark, save the single yard light high on a power pole. It casts shadows that dance and play with the slight breeze rolling in off the marsh.
The sexual energy literally rolls off of the stranger. I have to wonder if he would be as turned on if he knew I could snap his head off like a dandelion bloom.
I dismount the bike, and he does the same. Immediately, he pulls me to him. Hungrily, his mouth takes mine, his hands move over my ass, up my spine, and the whole while he’s touching me, kissing me, I notice —feel—one thing: his heart. I smell one thing: his blood.
The more frantic he becomes, the more ravenous I grow.
He’s groping me now, through my jeans, pressing his hard cock against me. Somehow, we’re on the porch, and the only sounds are the rush of air through the trees, his heartbeat, and his excited, breathless groans as I press my hand against his stiff ridge. It’s all a game. To me, anyway. It’s the only way I can get what I want. What I need.
But I can’t take any more. Not one more fucking second. His blood rushes with each pump of his heart, and it’s so intense it resonates literally inside my head. Taunting me. Begging me. My head begins to pound, my mouth waters. Shards of light intrude behind my eyes as the pain intensifies, and suddenly, I no longer feel his hands on me. I see him though, barely, and through my fog of delirium, I lunge. We struggle. He screams. All is silent.
A suffocating black shadow of agony swallows me whole.
“Damn it, Riley, wake up!”
Hands on me. Loud voices. I jerk my eyes open and stare, pissed off and confused. In one fluid motion I leap, shove the hands off me, and dart to the corner of the room. So fast is the movement that I barely feel my feet hit the floor. Only now, at the far end of the room, does my vision clear and I see the kid standing beside the bed.
A boy. Dark hair. Lean. Tall. Looks familiar. My brain strains, trying to remember.
My brother.
“Ri, what’s wrong with you?” he asks. Worry laces each word.
Slowly, I take in the room. It’s my bedroom. I’m in my apartment. Confusion webs my brain like a cocoon. Bits and pieces of memory filter in. “I, uh,” I stutter. “Had a bad dream, bro. That’s all. You scared the hell out of me.” I want to be alone, want him to go away. But there he stands, looking at me. His brows pinch together in concern. I’m sick of him worrying about me so much. It’s starting to get on my last fucking nerve.
Seth moves toward me. “You’ve been knocked out for almost twenty-four hours,” he says.
I glance around the room. How did I lose that much time? “I must be coming down with something,” I say. “Probably the flu. I feel like shit.” I blink. “Is Eli still gone?”
Seth’s eyes rake over me. Weighing me. Considering my words. “Yeah, they’re still on Da Island with Preacher. Maybe you’d better see a doctor, sis. You’re scaring me.”
A cynical laugh escapes me. “Yeah, right. A doctor. That’s what normal people do, Seth.” I give him a hard look and push away from the wall. “We’re not that anymore. Never will be, either. I’ll just sleep it off.” I throw myself back onto the bed.
“You’ve got clients waiting,” he says.
“Later,” I mumble into my pillow. “Tired.”
A few seconds go by. I feel Seth’s hand on my head, stroking my hair. “Come on, Ri. Get up. Please—”
In less than a half second, I turn over and shove him away. Hard. “Get away from me, Seth,” I say angrily. “I fucking mean it. Leave me alone.” My vision is fogging again, and I feel myself being pulled into blackness. I fight it, though, and keep my stare trained on my brother.
Hurt and anger crowd Seth’s young features. “I’ll never leave you alone,” he says with ferocity, then does exactly that and storms out of my room. In seconds I hear the apartment door downstairs slam shut.
Without another thought I turn over and fall right back to sleep. Or, into the pit of darkness. What the fuck ever. Doesn’t matter anymore. Shadows claim me, my thoughts, my memory. I’m aware of my own life force, the echo of my sluggish heart beating, but of nothing around me. Once more, I’m starkly oblivious. I like it like that.
I’m at a party. A ball? A charity? Everyone’s in tuxes and evening gowns, me included. Must be something big. Can’t imagine why I’m here. With a furtive glance, I check out my dress in the mirror I’m standing next to. Long, form fitting, garnet, thin jeweled straps and a plunging neckline. Backless. Slit from the floor to my thigh. Black peep-toe heels. The only jewelry I wear is a garnet velvet choker with a black stone inset. My hair is pulled up into a loose sort of sexy something, and someone curled my hair leaving long, spiraling hanks of midnight and fuchsia. The makeup is a little heavy, with my lips as garnet as my dress. I barely even look like me, except for the ink. My dual dragons running the length of my arms look wickedly out of place here. I like that.
A man appears beside me in the mirror, and I stare as he glides close to me. I’ve no idea who he is. Hell. I have no idea who I am.
“You came,” he says excitedly.
“Not yet,” I say, and I check him out from head to toe. A little young, but gorgeous all the same. Tall. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Perfectly structured face. “But that could change.”
He blinks in surprise, then gives me a seductive smile and offers me his arm. “Let’s dance.” Inclining his head, his grin widens.
I shrug and accept. “Lead the way.”
He does, and we make our way through a crowd of tuxes and gowns twirling around the dance floor to the music of a live orchestra. Once in the middle, he slows, turns, pulls me close, and immediately and with more grace than I credit him for, begins an unhurried, intimate dance. I let him lead, and I meet his gaze. His brown eyes sear into mine and he studies me with a burning, curious intensity.
“You don’t know who I am, do you?” he inquires. The hand resting modestly against my back moves lower, urges me closer with the slightest of nudges. His fingers interlace with mine. His whole presence exudes seduction. He’s very male. Very determined. And very, very horny.
“Not a clue,” I finally answer. “But you seem to know who I am.”
Brown eyes soften as he looks at me, and he smiles wide. “Let’s pretend neither of us knows the other,” he suggests. His accent is…I can’t place it. But it’s unusual, and sexy as hell. “To make it even. Yes?”
I give him a slight nod. “Why not.”
The orchestra plays some old tune I don’t recognize, and my dance partner lowers his head to my ear. Soft, firm lips brush the shell.
“Since we don’t know one another,” he whispers, “let’s go for a walk and get some air.” His lips brush the skin right below my ear. “Become acquainted.”
“All right,” I respond. “Let’s go become…acquainted, then.”
Wordlessly, he slips his hand to my lower back and leads me through the throng of partiers, to a set of French double doors near the back of the hall. Flanked by giant urns of green leafy ferns and marble statues, I can’t for the life of me figure out where I am. Cotillions and soirees aren’t exactly my thing. At least, I don’t think they are. I make eye contact with very few, but it’s because no one wants to look at my eyes. Instead they are fascinated by my dragons. I do notice that although the setting and music are both old-fashioned, most of the dancers are younger. Mid-twenties, maybe?
In the next breath we’re outside. It’s almost as though I somehow changed scenes in a movie. Literally. One second I’m standing inside. The next second, I’m beneath a canopy of moss and oaks, on a stone path through the garden. I glance up and around. The night is dark, starry, and moonless. A marble fountain spurts delicate sprays of water, pink from the lamp beneath the surface. A couple sits on a stone bench close by, their words whispered, muffled. My unknown date leads me past them, and as I glance down I see the woman’s hand grope the man’s crotch. His barely restrained moan reaches my ears. I notice he’s looking dead at me. I also notice his eyes have a sort of…glow.
Soon, we leave the horny couple behind and I find myself completely alone with a total stranger. The slight strains from the orchestra carry along the breeze until it seems we’re miles away from the ball. Shadows
