Revelation

by Randi Cooley Wilson

  ***

  As a communications major, architecture is not a class I’m overjoyed to be sitting in this semester. However, it does fulfill my art prerequisite and it’s the only afternoon class, which fit into my schedule. So, here I am, begrudgingly awaiting my instruction on “the fundamental devotion to the examination of the built environment,” according to the first line in my textbook.

  Professor Davidson is not known for easy grading or motivating lectures. As a matter of fact, he’s notorious for his rather lengthy and tedious explanations, specifically his sermons focused on Gothic architecture during the medieval period. I hear they’re as appealing as pulling out your own fingernails.

  I’m planted in my normal seat in the back of the lecture hall, hiding in the throng of the hundred students suffering along with me and internally cursing myself for not putting this credit off until the semester before graduation.

  My eyes follow Professor Davidson as he walks into class, holding his beat-up old brown leather satchel and playing with his salt and pepper hair. His thick glasses and tweed suit add to the ensemble, topped off with a bow tie no less. I sigh. It’s been a long month, meaning it’s going to be an even longer semester.

  Aria left me at the door to head to her design class. She’s hoping to work for a large advertising agency, like her dad, when she graduates as a graphic designer, much to the dismay of her mom. As a doctor, she would prefer Aria join the practice. I envy Aria for her ‘perfect’ family.

  My mom and dad both died when I was a baby, leaving me to grow up alone with my mother’s only sister, Elizabeth. Aunt Elizabeth loves to dress in long, billowy skirts and is a bit scatter-brained but she’s warm, affectionate, and has loved me every day like I was her own daughter. She’s also a very talented jewelry designer and owns a shop on Martha’s Vineyard.

  She never married nor had kids of her own, which surprises me because she’s quite beautiful; blessed with the same light brown, long hair as Mom and me. Her warm hazel eyes just draw people to her. I actually look so much like her that people tend to think she’s my older sister instead of my forty-year-old guardian.

  Smiling at thoughts of my aunt, I don’t notice class has started and I should be taking notes. Crap. I turn on my iPad while Professor Davidson drones on and on about architecture’s affect on art in the thirteenth century.

  Midway through the lecture, I stifle a yawn, stretching my neck to the left then the right while my wandering eyes lock on a set of full, kissable lips. I lift my gaze to see who said lips belong to. The very attractive owner is seated one chair over from me, looking every bit as bored and annoyed as I am.

  Everything about him attracts me, especially his indigo eyes outlined in dark lashes that fan softly over his cheeks. He has dark brown hair, short in the back and sides, but longer and styled on top in sexy, messy pieces. I fleetingly contemplate what it would be like to run my fingers through his hair as I chew on the inside of my cheek, a nervous habit of mine.

  His five o’clock shadow highlights a chiseled jawline that, at the moment, is clinched so tight it’s triggering a slight tick in his striking cheek muscle. Odd.

  My eyes travel down the right side of his body, roaming over his forearm. A striking Celtic cross tattoo is displayed on the inside.

  He has on a plain white t-shirt, worn blue jeans, and kickass black motorcycle boots. There are two thick, black leather bands adorning each of his wrists, adding to his masculine style.

  Hotness crosses his arms, showing off his toned biceps and blocking the taut chest I’ve been staring at, hidden under his cotton shirt.

  I lean closer, drawn to him like a magnet.

  Suddenly, he narrows his eyes at me with an intensity that could be construed as anger. At the force of his stare, my heart lurches and breathing becomes difficult. The warm sensation from earlier begins to run through my veins, causing me to shift uncomfortably in my seat.

  Without me noticing, he’s leaned over the empty seat between us. “See something you like?” his deep, masculine voice asks in a malicious whisper.

  Those plump lips are now set in a hard line. Our eyes lock and hold one another’s for what feels like an eternity before I drop mine.

  My cheeks flush with embarrassment as realization sets in. I was just caught openly checking him out. Crap.

  Ignoring his question, I snap my attention back to the front of the lecture hall just as Professor Davidson ends my humiliation by dismissing us for the day.

  Haphazardly, I throw things in my messenger bag and hurry to escape, only to find the six-foot plus Adonis already blocking me in by leaning against the frame in a casual stance.

  I breathe out a sharp breath, partly in surprise and partly in nervousness. Shit, he’s even hotter standing up.

  He’s also abnormally fast. I look back and forth between our seats and the doorway, wondering how the hell he got down here so quickly. Eve, attempt to focus, I internally scold myself.

  I move toward the exit. Not trusting my voice, I release the breath I’ve been holding and give him an excuse me look.

  He motions his hand, encouraging me to walk through.

  “After you,” he says, his smooth voice warming my cheeks again.

  I walk through the door, rolling my eyes at his dramatics and my lack of vocal control. Once outside, the fresh air hits me, clearing my head and offering relief from the embarrassing exchange.

  “No need to thank me. It’s truly my pleasure.” I hear his condescending voice come from behind me.

  I spin around in front of him, causing him to stop abruptly before walking into me. Not expecting my sudden movement, his hands grasp my upper arms to steady himself and prevent me from stumbling backwards.

  Heat pools on my skin where he touches it. Against my will, I close my eyes at his close proximity.

  His scent fills my senses; a heady, masculine combination of smoky wood and leather. I inhale and sway, slightly lightheaded from the whiff, which ignites warmth in my veins.

  The good-looking guy leans in closer and his lips softly brush my ear. His minty breath comes out in a cocky whisper, “Falling for me already?”

  This snaps me out of my daze. I look up and give him my best ‘what-the-hell’ look. He watches me for a second as confusion crosses his face then he releases my arms abrasively, as if I burned him.

  We study one another, waiting for the other to say something or make a move. Both of us are in a defiant stance with our arms crossed.

  I speak first, clearly a mistake.

  “What the hell is your problem?” I bark, narrowing my eyes.

  “The siren speaks,” he says, feigning awe. “I was beginning to question your familiarity with the English language.”

  One side of his mouth tilts into a smirk. It’s obvious he’s pleased with himself and his lame answer.

  “Charming,” I reply, annoyed. “I happen to be well-versed with the English language.”

  He places a long finger to his closed mouth in contemplation. “That’s astonishing, considering earlier, I caught you openly gawking at me.” Indigo eyes scan my face as he leans in and lowers his voice to a sensual tone. “Pink lips parted, beautiful hazel eyes locked onto my chest, drooling as if I were a piece of chocolate.” He pauses for effect. “Yet not a single word flowed through that pretty, pouty mouth of yours,” blue eyes retorts, staring at my lips, waiting patiently for my response.

  I swallow. Between his scent and nearness, my body is overheating. “Shows how much you know. I prefer salty versus sweet,” I throw back at him, proud that my voice sounds strong.

  It would be in my best interest to gather my dignity and just walk away. This infuriating guy is getting under my skin by distracting me with insults that appear to be compliments.

  He snorts and gives me an insolent smile. “Yeah, I can tell sweet isn’t your thing, sweetheart.”

  My jaw tightens. “I have a name, and it’s not sweetheart,” I snap.


  He crosses his arms, amused at my outburst, and gives me a crooked smile. “What would that name be?”

  “Eve Collins,” I offer in an even tone.

  “Eve,” he says in a husky voice.

  The way my name rolls off his tongue does crazy things to my body. I secretly curse his good looks for causing my stomach muscles to clench and the butterflies to take flight.

  “Eve,” he repeats, as some form of understanding sinks in. “Without doubt, a suitable name for you.”

  The cute guy stands taller and puffs his chest out in some sort of proud posture.

  “Meaning?” I question tersely.

  “Wasn’t Eve the mother of mankind? Of course, she was also seen as weak, allowing evil to succeed in tempting her to the forbidden.” He challenges me with his eyes.

  I pull my brows together, confused by his bizarre statement. “Are you implying I’m weak?” I question with a slight octave change.

  He just stands there, calm and unfazed by my growing temper. For some reason, his lack of reaction makes me even more irate.

  “I can assure you that’s not the case,” I say. “As a matter of fact, I could punch you right now and you’d be seeing stars for weeks followed by a plastic surgeon to reset your nose, pretty boy.”

  Clearly unaffected by me, he laughs deeply, placing his hands up in mock surrender while backing away from me. “There’s no need for threats of physical harm, Eve.”

  His gaze locks onto mine, assessing me, probably waiting to see if I’ll actually punch him. I angle my head to the side in annoyance and continue to watch him, watching me.

  As soon as he finds what he’s searching for in my eyes, he nods, seeming to have had some sort of internal dialogue with himself. His face turns passive.

  “Your lack of knowledge with regard to your name means nothing,” he says, casually shrugging me off.

  I feel a migraine coming on. This conversation is nonsensical and it needs to end. “I don’t think this is working.” I motion between us while giving him an irritated glower.

  A mischievous grin forms on his face. “Do we need couples therapy already?”

  My frustration is now off the charts so I exhale loudly, hoping he’ll get the hint. “That’s not what I meant.”

  He leans into my personal space and narrows his eyes, attempting to intimidate and fluster me more than he already has, and for the love of god, it’s working.

  “Would you please stop? I can’t think with you in my face,” I grumble.

  At this, he leans away. “I make you nervous?” It’s a question with a hint of curiosity.

  “Ah, no. Far from it,” I answer, still a bit shaken.

  “Your unconvincing tone says different,” he retorts.

  I’m just about to offer my witty come back when his eyes snap up, quickly scanning the area behind me before redirecting his focus back to me. He frowns.

  Before I can glance at what caught his attention, blue eyes speaks, ending my inquisitiveness.

  “As delightful as this conversation has been with you, I have somewhere I need to be. Try not to walk into anyone or anything,” he mocks as he begins to walk away.

  “Whatever,” I mutter and add under my breath, “ass.”

  He stops and turns back to face me, stalking me slowly, like a predator. “Tsk. Name calling is very unbecoming of you, Eve.” My name comes out like a dig. “Perhaps, you should consider your choice of words within the English language with more care when conversing with others.”

  I just stand there, glaring at him, wracking my brain for a smartass response. Unfortunately, he has me all tongue-tied and at a loss for witty repartee.

  Hotness, of course, wastes no time conquering the silence. “I’ll be anticipating your retort, siren. I’m sure it will be enlightening.” He’s taunting me.

  I struggle for words. My cheeks warm as the pink hue of mortification crawls up them. I should be attempting to form a clever comeback. Instead, I just stand there like a statue.

  He flashes a sexy smile at me, winks, and walks away.

  “Damn those dimples.” I exhale and stand there for a moment, studying his retreating form, trying to figure out what just happened.

  “It’s probably best to stay away from Asher,” an icy voice says from behind me.

  Now what? I turn to see McKenna looking like evil Barbie. Her long blonde hair pulled tight in a ponytail, her striking sapphire eyes glaring at me with hatred, her nostrils flaring and her manicured hands positioned on her athletic hips.

  “What are you talking about, McKenna?” I ask, bordering on boredom.

  “Asher St. Michael. That piece of sexy male specimen you were just attempting to converse with. He’s off limits,” she instructs like she owns him.

  I cross my arms. How dare she tell me who I can and can’t speak with? “First of all, he isn’t of interest and secondly, you don’t get to tell me whom I can and cannot speak to so back off, McKenna.” I brush past her as she grabs my arm, forcing me to face her.

  “Just trust me when I tell you that falling for Asher would be a bad idea,” she snarls out of her perfectly glossy lips.

  I twist my arm out of her death grip, looking her in the eyes. “Message received. He’s all yours.” I smile sweetly and walk away.

  3 Katana

  Exhausted from the verbal altercations, I decide to spend some time alone in the library with my research paper. Delusional as it may be, I thought Rhetorical and Communicative Theory would be a good distraction from Asher St. Michael.

  After three hours, it’s not working. All I can think about are his indigo eyes, the way his invigorating scent filled me, and why my body reacts of its own accord to his proximity as if pulled by an invisible string.

  Unfortunately, all attraction ends when he opens his damn mouth. I sigh in defeat as I pack up to leave.

  I walk outside the library and adjust my messenger bag as coldness creeps into my body. But it has nothing to do with the outside temperature. I scan the campus, assuring myself that nothing seems out of sorts. Still, I can’t help the feeling that I’m being watched. I exhale, releasing my nerves, and begin to walk back to my dorm.

  As I reach the door to my room, I notice it’s ajar which strikes me as weird. We all lock the door constantly since it’s one of Abby’s big rules. Little by little, I push the door open and my breath hitches.

  “Holy shit,” I don’t quite whisper.

  I’m looking at what I can only describe as complete room demolition. There are clothes, shoes, jewelry, purses, and make-up thrown everywhere in the lounge area with a trail leading straight to the room I share with Aria.

  It looks like the place has been ransacked. On guard, I walk toward our room and open the door. My jaw hits the floor as my eyes go wide and I stand motionless at the sight in front of me.

  Aria and Abby are wildly pulling clothes out of the closets and arbitrarily throwing them on what I’m guessing are our beds. Music blares from an iPod as I stand speechless and immobile, still in shock at the closet destruction I’m witnessing.

  “Oh, thank goodness you’re here,” Abby chirps with a cheerful tone. Finally noticing I’m there, she grabs both my hands and pulls me through the doorway into the chaos.

  “What’s going on in here?” I stammer out as I trip over a pair of Abby’s black-heeled shoes, my messenger bag falling in the process.

  Grabbing the shoes off the floor, Abby squeals in delight. “Eve! You found them, thank you. It’s like fate because these,” she dangles the five-inch heels in my face, “are what you’ll be wearing tonight with a black dress,” she searches the mess with meticulous care, like a cat stalking a mouse, “ah ha, here, with this black dress.” She holds up a mini sequin dress and the shoes, shoving them both at me.

  “Once again, what’s going on?” I repeat, slowing down my tone this time, waiting for someone to answer.

  “We’re going out! It’s Friday night and we’re on the guest list
at Katana, a very hip, very cool, very dark nightclub in the city,” Aria says while shooting me a don’t argue look.

  “Yes!” Abby confirms, clapping with glee and causing my eyes to widen for the second time. “Since it’s twenty-one and over, we need the perfect outfits. I think, after two hours of searching, I’ve got everyone all set and ready to go. Now, we need to shower and get ready.”

  “You guys have been at this for two hours! Are you fucking crazy?” I screech in complete astonishment that they would spend so much time looking for a dress and shoes.

  Abby pushes me toward the bathroom. “No, we’re preparing for fun. You go shower. By the time you’re done, I promise we,” she motions to Aria and then herself, “will have this all cleaned up.” I stare at her while she slips on her sweetest smile so I can’t argue.

  “Fine.” I huff and head into the bathroom.

  Two pizza-, primping- and plucking-filled hours later, we’re deemed ready to go by the glam squad.

  “I have to say, we clean up well. I do good work.” Abby pats herself on the back.

  “You’re right. We all look smoking hot,” Aria’s enthusiastic voice agrees.

  I’m so out of my element. “I miss my jeans,” I whine, trying not to kill myself in these high heels.

  Abby gives me stink eye. “Eve, for once you look like a hot college girl so stop bitching.”

  Resigned that I’m stuck wearing the mini and heels, I just sigh. Abby completes the look by pulling my hair into a sleek ponytail and Aria does a smoky eye on me, which make my hazel eyes look fierce.

  To be truthful, Aria did smoky eyes on everyone since it’s her ‘specialty.’ Hers are in pink tones highlighted with black heavy liner, all complimenting her sleek, pink strapless mini dress, black fishnets, and black combat boots. The combination sounds odd, but she looks fantastic.

  Abby looks majestic in a gold shimmer mini and gold sparkle heels, which make her long legs look even more incredible. Reminding me of a Grecian goddess, her eyes are done in browns and gold.

  Out of all of us though, I have to admit that McKenna looks the sexiest. She strolls in wearing a grey mini that drapes on her lean body with a black belt, black tights, a faux fur vest and knee high boots.

  “Let’s go,” she orders in a sharp pitch as she twirls her index finger in a circular motion, instructing us to get moving.

  Twenty minutes later, we pull up to the valet outside Katana. The club is housed in an elegant two-story building made of a shiny, smooth black stone, maybe granite. On the roof of the building are four dragon statues, one on each corner. There’s no sign, no windows, and only one glass door guarded by two very large and intimidating bouncers dressed in all black.

  “There must be a hundred people waiting in line. It’s wrapped around the building,” Aria breathes out in awe.

  We get out of Abby’s Mini Cooper while McKenna strolls us up to the bouncers, bypassing the line like she owns the place.

  “Tadhg. Leo. Looks busy tonight, boys,” she greets the guards like they’re old friends.

  “Aye, Kenna,” Tadhg says with an Irish brogue.

  The watchdog has tattoos that expand the length of his very muscular arms and over his bald head and neck. His green eyes sparkle with joy at the site of us.

  “Yar lookin’ as lovely as evah, darlin,” he throws out with a thick accent as he eyeballs her from head to toe.

  McKenna seems to have that affect on all men.

  Leo nods in a more formal manner. “How many with you tonight?”

  “Four. Abby’s here too.” She tilts her head in Abby’s direction, obliging Tadhg and Leo to both gesture to her cousin.

  Abby waves back just as she reaches the two gigantic guards. “These are our friends, Aria and Eve. Ladies, Leo and Tadhg are friends of the family, and they also work for the club,” she chirps, making the introductions animatedly.

  I gesture to both goliaths. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you, guys.” They both nod their hellos. “Tadhg is an interesting name,” I remark.

  Tadhg smiles at me. “Tis actually pronounced Tigg, meaning poet, in Gaelic,” he corrects with a captivating enunciation.

  Aria cozies up to Leo and squeezes his biceps. “Hey, you remind me of my ex but way hotter and sooo much bigger.” She bats her eyes and flirts with no shame.

  “I’m just a gentle giant with a heart of gold,” he coos at her, encouraging the attention.

  I bark out a short laugh as Abby giggles and McKenna snorts.

  “Ye feeks have a grand time and ya stay outta trouble, yeh?” Tadhg says, opening the black rope and permitting us entry as the line of people groan in complaint.

  “Thanks, honey,” McKenna replies, planting a kiss on Tadhg’s cheek as we walk in.

  “Feeks?” Aria questions.

  “It means gorgeous girls,” Abby answers.

  We walk into the club and the first thing I notice is it’s smaller and more intimate than it looks from the outside. Though stylish and sophisticated, it’s also dark and sensual.

  The only light source comes from the twenty or so oversized chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The amber beams of light reflect off the crystals, wrapping the entire nightclub in a warm glow. Even with the luminescent radiance, they don’t provide much brightness against the dark interior.

  The walls are black and the floor a dark grey concrete, giving the entire club a contemporary feeling. There’s an all black, square granite bar in the middle of the open space with a countertop that runs the entire length of it. Everything is meant to feel sleek and smooth, modern.

  Abby and McKenna push us in the direction of the bar as they step up and order our drinks. My eyes roam and I notice a considerable dance floor with more giant chandeliers lighting the dancers in red tones. There are tons of people dancing sensually while post punk music pumps throughout the entire club. This whole place screams sex.

  All around the outskirts are high back, black leather booths with small grey stone, circular tables in front of them. There’s also a mezzanine overlooking the main floor. It’s decorated with black leather couches and tables.

  Aria jumps up and down. “This is so amazing.”

  I smile at her enthusiasm. “It really is.”

  Abby and McKenna return with drinks in hand and we head toward a couch area with a stone table in the center that has a VIP note on it.

  McKenna and I sit on the couch facing the dance floor as Abby and Aria plop into chairs across from us.

  “How were you able to get us in here?” Aria inquires, taking a sip of her beverage.

  “My boyfriend and his brothers own the club,” McKenna announces with pride.

  I shoot a pointed glance at Aria as her eyes widen. I guess the ice queen has a boyfriend.

  “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone,” Aria responds, stunned.

  McKenna just glares but doesn’t elaborate. Odd. I was about to ask her to go into details regarding her secret boyfriend when the familiar heat begins to hum in my veins. My eyes lift and scan the dance floor, landing on Asher. He’s dancing provocatively with some random blonde girl as an irrational pang of jealousy rolls through me. What the fuck?

  At my reaction, Abby’s face morphs into one of confusion, causing her to look back at Asher and then at me again with puzzlement before she draws her manicured brows together.

  “You want to tell us why your nose is flaring like you just smelled dog shit?” Aria asks with candor as she watches my every move.

  I can’t answer her. All I can do is focus on the many places his body touches hers while I’m consumed by illogical envy. My blood is actually boiling in my veins as I hold my breath and just stare at him grinding against her.

  This girl’s cleavage is falling out of her silver dress, which hugs all her curves. She entwines her hands around his waist while Asher buries his face in the crook of her neck.

  He secures her against his body and they sway as one to the erotic music. W
ith lustful eyes, she smiles up at him and bites her lower lip. He leans in as if he’s going to kiss her, maintaining eye contact with her.

  I clinch my fists tightly to prevent myself from going over there and clawing her damn eyes out. Crap. I need to pull it together. I don’t even know him, and what little I do know, I don’t like. Right?

  “Looks like someone needs to start listening when I give advice.” McKenna leans in and whispers into my left ear while I try to calm myself down.

  Asher snaps his head toward us as if he heard her, which is impossible over the loud music. His eyes shift and lock onto mine, holding them for a moment, taken aback. They grow larger in surprise and snap back to McKenna. He’s pissed. She waves wickedly at him, causing his face to turn furious with rage.

  The tension is too much. I grab Aria, forcing her out of her seat. I realize I’m being irrational, but the need to escape is overwhelming and I get tunnel vision.

  “Aria, come with me to the ladies room.” I drag her like a rag doll behind me.

  “What the hell, Eve,” she screeches.

  “I need some air and you need to come with me,” I attempt to explain and walk faster, pulling her into the restroom then slamming the door closed.

  Of course, the bathroom is as chic and dark as the rest of the club. I throw myself down on one of the leather chairs in the sitting area and put my head in my hands, sighing and feeling overwhelmed. Yep, I’m unstable.

  Aria just stands there, arms folded. Crap, the angry pixie’s back. “Are you going to tell me the absurd reason why you heaved me through the club to hide out in the ladies room? I mean, it is a lovely room,” she motions her hand around, “but this isn’t a seventh grade dance, so spill it, sister,” she coaxes. Thin chocolate slits stare at me in partial amusement.

  I exhale in defeat. “There’s a guy out there on the dance floor.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Of course there’s a guy, Eve,” she says as if it’s common knowledge.

  I throw her a snotty look.

  “Eve.” My name comes out as a moan. “A guy’s always the reason a normally sane individual such as yourself would drag her friend across a dark club and into the bathroom without an explanation. Otherwise, you would be peeing or putting on gloss.” She growls and sits in the chair opposite of me.

  I’ve got to give it to her; her logic is reasonable this time. I sit back, cross my legs, and entwine my hands over my stomach while ignoring her sound statement.

  “So this guy, Asher, he’s in my Architecture class. Today after class, he cornered me and made some offhanded, bizarre comment about my name. Then whenever he opened his mouth, he insulted me by complimenting me.” I sulk. “Anyway, he’s out there, dancing with some blonde bimbo,” I attempt to explain my ridiculous response to him, but it’s not very articulate.

  Aria just stares at me, her expression is unreadable. She’s watching me like I’m going to explode.

  “What?” I ask.

  “You like him.”

  “I do not. Did you just hear a word I said? He’s rude, crass, and has no manners.”

  “Yet here we are, hiding in the bathroom, because Eve’s jealous of the hot boy and the blonde girl,” she says while tapping her pink lips with her finger in contemplation.

  I scowl at her. “He might be hot, but his personality sucks.”

  “Eve, my darling friend,” she gets up and walks over to my chair then sits on the arm. “The good news for you is that dress is incredibly sexy and enhances your killer body. Those five-inch heels give the impression your legs go on forever. Not to mention, your makeup looks fucking amazing. So, as your roommate and best friend, I say this with all the love in the world. Get you’re pretty little ass out there and show him he doesn’t matter.” She smiles and yanks me out of the chair, pushing me toward the door.

  “Aria,” I whine.

  She looks up at me, showing me she isn’t going to put up with my nonsense.

  “Yeah?”

  I give up. “Thanks for being such an amazing friend,” I say. She’s right. I’m being dramatic.

  “Listen, let’s not do mushy-gushy friendship stuff tonight.” Then she smacks my ass. “Go get ‘em, tiger,” she offers and pushes me into the hall where Asher is leaning against the wall, looking so damn sexy. Crap. I’m screwed.

  As soon as we walk out, he lifts his head and our eyes lock. Aria swaggers over to him.

  “We’re done, hot stuff. After you finish what I am sure will be a witty conversation with her, you might want to request the song Open Arms by Journey.” She winks at him, laughing at her own joke, and walks back to the girls.

  I cross my arms. Damn he looks so attractive. Lucky wall to have him pressed against it. He has one leg bent at the knee and the other on the floor.

  Asher’s demeanor seems timid with one hand in each front pocket. The way he’s looking at me, all vulnerable, is completely different than the cocky guy I’ve come to briefly know and hate.

  Tonight, he’s wearing dark blue jeans, black boots, a black t-shirt, and his leather wristbands. He bites his lip and all I can think about is biting it for him. Holy crap, I really need to get my hormones in check. I’m acting like a crazy fan girl.

  He just watches me pensively. At the uncomfortable silence, I begin to fidget before ending it.

  “Funny. She’s dead but funny,” I mutter, pointing toward where Aria just exited.

  Asher nods his head in slow motion as if he agrees. “She’s a friend of yours?”

  I pause, shocked at his sincere tone. “Yeah. That’s my roommate, Aria. I came here tonight with her and two other friends. They forced me to dress up and come out. Apparently, I need to have more fun or whatever,” I babble in an odd, nervous manner.

  Asher’s eyes lock onto mine for a while then release them as they dip and roam up my body. Blue irises take me in bit by bit. Every look feels like a caress across my skin, starting at my shoes, extending over my legs, dress, lips and finally they fasten back onto my face.

  “I noticed.” His voice is deep and full of promise.

  Heat spreads in my body as his scent wafts over to me. I need to get myself under control and fast. “Where’s your blonde friend?” I ask, my tone a bit rude.

  Asher lifts his eyebrows in surprise, assessing me for a moment before tilting his lips sensually and cocking his head to the side.

  “Are you jealous, siren?” he asks, dropping his voice to a seductive tone before taking a step toward me.

  I take a step back. If he gets too close, I won’t recover.

  “No.” I quiver inside.

  He takes another step forward. I retreat again.

  “I think you are.”

  “I promise you, I’m not.” I tilt my chin up, not giving in. He’s so close now my traitorous body craves him instinctively.

  Asher’s face becomes serious as he leans in so we’re nose-to-nose. I part my lips as his eyes dart to them and he whispers, “Good, because I’m indifferent to your envy.”

  He holds me hostage with his intense glare.

  I exhale the hurt of his statement and then breathe in a deep, cleansing breath in order to regain my composure and attempt to brush off his rejection. “I should get back.” I point to the end of the hall, my escape from the uneasiness.

  Asher heaves a sigh and backs off, putting space between us. “Actually, I want you to leave. This really isn’t a proper place for you to be,” he orders.

  “Excuse me?” My voice rises with irritation. “Who the fuck do you think you are giving me orders?” The hurt from the rejection morphs into an irrational anger at his gall.

  Groaning, he rubs his hands over his face and through his hair. “I’m someone who’s been in here a few more times than you. I know the type of crowd that hangs out here and you, siren, are not that type.” He throws a disgusted look at me.

  “What? I’m not good enough to be here? Is that what you’re saying, pretty boy?” I spit out, forcing my
irritation out with the statement.

  “It’s the opposite.”

  I’m confused. “What?”

  “You’re too good to be here.”

  “Meaning?” I question, stunned.

  “It means you need to leave, now.”

  “No,” I snap, taking a step forward and crossing my arms.

  His eyes go wide, fists tightening at his sides. “No?” Asher repeats, shocked, as if no one has ever said the word to him before.

  I smirk. “That’s what I said, using the English language, I might add.” I throw his words back at him as I stand in defiance.

  Bewildered, he prowls toward me like a panther, crossing the distance between us. “You think you can handle what’s in here?” His voice is low and threatening, vibrating through me and rattling my soul.

  Shaken at his power, I retreat until my back hits the wall again and forces me still. My breath is erratic as my heart beats against my rib cage furiously.

  Asher stops within a breath of me. Frustrated, he moves forward, closing the space. Pressing his body into mine, he holds me in place against the wall.

  He slides his knee between my parted legs and grabs my wrists in his large hands, pinning them to the wall at my sides. His eyes force mine to unite with his. Our uneven breaths mix. One slight move between either of us and our lips would be touching.

  He just watches me. “You have no idea what type of fucking crowd comes in here. Now, do us all a favor and run along, siren,” he says, clearly pissed off.

  I’ve decided I’m not going to allow him to boss me around. “No.” It comes out breathy.

  Asher’s eyes drop to my rapidly rising and falling chest. Then his gaze lifts to my parted lips, which I lick subconsciously, causing a deep noise to form in the back of his throat. At the raw release, a feverish and nonsensical need for him to kiss me blooms.

  His face is uncertain as he leans closer. I hold my breath in anticipation, my mind begging for his lips to brush mine, just once. I realize that’s irrational since he irritates the crap out of me but I’m no longer in control of my brain synapses. My body is focused on my wrists where he is holding them. The skin burns with heat under his touch.

  I try not to look at him, but he is staring at me with the same inexplicable look of frustration on his face as before. As quickly as it started, the spell is broken. His broad shoulders stiffen and he pushes himself away from me. My body shudders at the loss of contact and warmth he emitted.

  “Fuckkk,” he draws out, puzzled by the unexpected pull and tension happening between us. He runs his hands through his hair before interlacing them behind his head, standing at his full height and facing away from me.

  I stand there, watching him. Confusion sets in from his erratic emotions, which are irritating me to the point of wanting to physically harm him now.

  Asher turns around. I look down. His hands are clenched into hard fists. “Your innocence and lack of understanding is going to get you killed. It draws them and me to you like a god damn beacon,” he growls at me through a tight jaw.

  “What?” I ask, not following a word he’s said.

  Asher blows out a harsh breath. “This,” he motions between us, “is not happening so do us all a favor and just leave.” His voice is laced with an edge meant to intimidate me.

  My throat constricts, making it impossible to speak. Unsure of what just happened, I push off the wall and brush past him in anger, heading to the table without a backward glance.

  Once I reach the girls, Aria’s eyes soften in understanding. She grabs my hand. “Come on, girl. Let’s go dance our troubles away.”