Walk on Water

by September Thomas

  “Thank you for coming with me, Z.” Finn mashed his lips to the shell of my ear. It seemed to be his favorite way of talking to me lately. “Now let’s go find Ryder and maybe get a drink.”

  Finn grabbed my hand, dragging me toward the bar. This might be a club complete with a stage for live musicians and dangling cages for dancers, but the bar was its centerpiece. It was raised off the ground. Five steps circled it completely, the fifth step butted right up under the ledge forcing customers to look up at the bartenders while ordering. It created a weird power structure and discouraged mingling. But that didn’t seem to bother anyone, considering it was practically bursting with people all waving cash and hollering at the two bartenders, demanding their share of colorful beverages with inventive names. To their credit, the bartenders pushed out drinks about as quickly as they were shouted.

  The mass of bodies didn’t deter Finn. He pushed through the sweaty, hopping crowd and shoved me ahead of him when we reached the edge of the sticky bar top. His chest pressed against my back. The counter was high up, and only the top half of my chest cleared the surface. It was a peculiar feeling. The energy, the music, the beat of the room pressing against me made me lightheaded. A flash of green in the crowd snagged my attention, and while I was puzzling it out, I missed the gesture Finn flicked at the bartender, something that caught the man’s attention faster and more effectively than any of the flirty women and the men waving twenties.

  The man passed three glasses of beer to a guy standing behind a pair of tittering girls, and I took a moment to admire the flex of his biceps, the stretch of tattooed skin over his muscles, before he turned our way. All the breath in my body heaved out when those eyes met mine. If not for the bar top and Finn’s arms, I would have fallen to the floor.

  Amber eyes rimmed in shimmering gold bracketed an elegant nose. A lazy grin stretched across his face, a welcoming answer to my reaction. I was smiling. The feeling felt strange on my face, but I couldn’t stop. It felt good. From the razor’s edge slashes of cheekbones to his strong jaw, even the dimple that popped in his left cheek, he was delicious as sin. He ran a hand through his midnight hair, cut in choppy two-inch lengths and styled in haphazard spikes, and crouched down, his long, rangy body briefly vanishing from view.

  He looked like—and could very well be—the Prince of Hell. But I didn’t care.

  Tingles raced down my arms and I rocked my head back, heart rate sputtering back to life when I hit Finn’s chest. I’d forgotten he was there. His answering rumble of laughter told me that he clearly hadn’t forgotten. He briefly gripped my shoulder again, our water magics twining together like cats stretching before a warm window.

  When the bartender reemerged, he clutched a clear bottle filled with liquid that looked like electric-green lightning loosely in one hand. He caught my eye again, then looked over my head at Finn. They appeared to have some sort of silent conversation that ended when the man nodded and motioned to the female bartender behind him. She scowled but moved to take orders across the whole bar, somehow moving faster if it were humanly possible.

  This must be Ryder.

  Stars above, Finn had left a lot of information out.

  He set the bottle down with a loud thunk and three shot glasses appeared next to it in short order. The bottle sparkled as he tipped it up and poured three shots, his eyes never once leaving mine.

  “Matches your eyes,” he murmured. His voice was soft but rough, almost grating, like a lead singer in a rock band who just finished a two-hour concert.

  One second.

  Two.

  I failed to respond. What was wrong with me? His eyes narrowed in good-humor, and he handed me a glass, making a point to touch my fingers in the process. I swear I saw white sparks fly, but maybe it was only inside me, the fireworks exploding in my chest anyway. But I thought he felt it, too. That immediate spark of chemistry, like a hammer hitting hot metal. In fact, his irises glowed white when we touched, the amber rims of those intoxicating eyes dilating. It only made sense that he was fey.

  It would be sinful for any human to look that good and have that sheer amount of raw magnetism.

  “What are you?” The words slipped past my lips. They were rude, but I didn’t care as I embraced the wave of ecstasy his touch created. He didn’t seem to care either as his lazy grin stretched wider, growing darker and more enticing. But he didn’t answer.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Majesty.”

  I blinked at the title and frowned.

  Were Gods considered royalty? I’d never thought to ask Finn.

  But he wasn’t done yet. “To the return of the Gods,” he said with a weighted look at me and threw his head back as he took the shot. I followed suit, gasping when pure euphoria flooded my veins. It wiped away the lingering darkness that marked the past few days. It tasted like it looked: raw and spicy and sharp. Part of me cried out, warning about dangers of the drink that I didn’t know, but I batted it back, smiling lazily as the liquid numbed me. It was better, tastier, stronger than any liquor I’d ever consumed.

  I wasn’t even aware I’d closed my eyes until fingers brushed my face. The bartender’s dark smile morphed again as he took in my expression, turning bright and light as the drink bouncing around my belly.

  “Now it really matches,” he murmured and leaned against the bar on his forearms, almost as if he were stopping himself from vaulting over it and grabbing me. Warmth spread through me. “Go have fun now. No need to stick around for what will, no doubt, be a very boring conversation for you and a mildly entertaining one for me.”

  Finn grumbled but stepped back. The music was enticing. Maybe that was the drink talking.

  “Come see me again if you require any other assistance.” I didn’t miss the innuendo and a blush stained my cheeks. “Finn, your message was cryptic. Let’s go back to my office.”

  I turned when a hand grabbed my elbow. “Don’t go anywhere with anyone,” Finn said, his face hovering close to mine when I looked back. “I’ll find you once we figure some of these details out.”

  Later, stars knows how much later, I pulled away from the masses, desperately needing hydration. I hadn’t intended to join in. I’d only meant to grab a glass of water and hover around the periphery until Finn reemerged. But the music was intoxicating. It pulled me in and before I knew it, I was lost.

  My blood burned hot, my limbs loose, and I stank of sweat and beer, but I felt wonderful. Really good. I’d shed some of the stress dragging me down. I wiped rivers of sweat from my face and sauntered toward the bar. This time only a few dozen people lingered at the bottom of the steps, most already holding drinks as they stood around tall, round tables and talked loudly among one another.

  But it seemed that most people had opted to hit the dance floor, alcohol long-forgotten. One of the girls dancing near me said something about tonight’s DJ being someone “extra freaking special” but it all went over my head. All I knew was that old-school Linkin Park was blasting, the time change amped up a step, and I occasionally caught the vocals of a different artist, a different beat.

  Stuff I knew nothing about.

  But I liked it.

  As I approached the bar, two rangy dudes with shaved heads and gauged ears stepped in front of me. My guard instantly went up. One of them put his hand on my bare arm to stop me.

  “Hey there, beautiful,” he told my chest. His eyes hadn’t quite made the entire journey up to my face. “Whatt’ya say if we take this party somewhere else?” His friend ran his tongue over the lip of his beer bottle suggestively.

  Ugh. He had yellow teeth, and they both stank of cigarette smoke. I pulled the one dude’s hand off my arm and shoved it out of the way. They were so not going to kill this lovely buzz I had going. I said, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say your buddy here,” I flipped a thumb at the dude with his lips now completely wrapped around the mouth of his bottle, “is the one interested in performing sexual favors.”

  It took a moment
for them to get my meaning. But when it did, oh it was wonderful seeing the leering light die from their eyes and snarls form on their lips.

  I couldn’t resist. “Favors for you. In case that wasn’t clear.”

  “You slut, wait till you see—”

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you, mate.”

  I knew that voice, the quivering mass off gooiness that was my stomach knew that voice, and I tried to brace against it, part of me wondering if it was already too late, the part of me that wasn’t loving how he’d come to my aid unasked.

  The two punks looked past me over my shoulder where I assumed Ryder lurked. The color drained from the face of the guy who’d grabbed me, and he took a half step back, reevaluating his entire night. His friend opened his mouth to probably spew some crappy, drunken retort when his pal smacked him in the back of the head.

  “Dude, that’s Ryder.”

  The guy with the bottle didn’t seem to quite understand what that meant, because he looked back and forth between us, mouth wide open. Yep, he was definitely missing a few teeth, too. Ready to be done with this whole thing, I took a step forward, hands balled in fists at my side, nails digging grooves into my palms, a threatening expression on my face. That seemed to jump-start whatever brain cells the booze hadn’t burned away yet, because he, too, paled and smacked his friend’s shoulder as they raced to the exit.

  Bouncing on my heels, my fury replaced by triumph, I turned to Ryder only to find he’d stepped right behind me. The tip of my nose brushed his chest through his stretchy black t-shirt. Gods he was tall, towering over me in a mass of muscle and sinew and heat. His brow quirked and part of his mouth tipped in a musing smile.

  “Whoa there,” he said, gripping my shoulders as I tripped back a step. His hooded eyes searched mine as he lowered his head. His mouth stretched into that sexy half-grin that I might find more than a little irresistible. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry to let me go if his fingers working small circles into my lower back had anything to say about it, but it was all good because I couldn’t think of anywhere better to be right now.

  Who was I and what happened to the person I used to be?

  “I’m afraid we weren’t quite properly introduced earlier, Majesty,” he said in that same rough and tumble voice from earlier, a hint of gravel in his tone. “I’m Ryder. And this is my club.” He lifted one of his hands from my shoulders and inserted it between our bodies.

  A handshake.

  I’d much rather he wrap that hand around my waist. I breathed in, his scent flooding my senses. It was like cinnamon and smoke. After a beat too long, I took his hand in my own much smaller hand, marveling at the contrast, and shook it firmly.

  “You know exactly who I am.” I responded.

  “You did come up in conversation.”

  “And did you reach an agreement?” I stepped out of his grasp, sucking in a gulp of air now that I could breathe again. “Finn seemed adamant you could help.”

  Ryder tapped his chin with one manicured nail and lifted a shoulder. The sensuality in his face, though, drained away. “Finn and I don’t exactly get along. We’re friendly, but we aren’t friends. Not anymore.” His hand moved to his jawline and rubbed. “Unfortunately, while our discussion started off well enough, it derailed rather quickly. He’s taking a breather right now. Maybe someday I’ll tell you about our history. Maybe he will. But for now, it’s a long story and the wrong time.”

  More secrets. I shuffled on my feet. Though the music pounded the walls, it seemed muted with my confused thoughts.

  “Don’t get me wrong, we’ll figure things out.” Ryder’s feet moved into my lowered line of sight. “Until he returns, though, why don’t you and I get better acquainted, since you are the reason why he’s here anyway.”

  I got the feeling ‘here’ meant more than the nightclub. But since Ryder seemed unwilling to broach the topic, and I didn’t really know him that well anyway, I’d ask Finn about it later.

  “Alright.” I said and scrubbed the thighs of my pants. “What do you want to know?”

  “Let’s get another drink first. I talk better with something in my hands.” Ryder talked as he sauntered up the stairs to the bar, hopped the counter, and poured me a tall glass of ice water and another shot of the electric green liquor from before.

  “Let’s talk about me first. You asked what I was before.” Teeth flashed wickedly before a shot of the green stuff tipped from a third glass between Ryder’s lips, which he smacked with satisfaction. “How about you take a guess. You’ve seen how I look, how I act. You’ve been affected by my presence. No, don’t scoff, I can tell. It isn’t anything to be ashamed of. Take a guess. Think about it, I’m in no hurry. You’ll get no judgment from me.”

  Ryder hopped the counter again and ambled over to a table where a pair of stools had magically appeared. A skill of his? Or did he have staff that anticipated his needs? Ryder held a can of IPA from a company I didn’t recognize and took a seat, legs splayed wide as he braced a foot on one of the pegs. He motioned for me to take the second.

  I cleared my mind, shaking the thoughts free, and truly pondered what I knew, what he said. After a few minutes of scrolling my mental dictionary, I said, “A succubus.”

  “Close. I’m impressed. Incubus. Male version of the succubus,” he clarified. I took a huge gulp from my glass of water. “This is my club. My home. My feeding ground.” He paused and peered at me curiously. I took another drink and re-crossed my legs on my own stool. The table was sticky. “Interesting. No reaction.”

  “Should I have one?”

  “Not necessarily, but most do. It isn’t a good one.”

  “I don’t know enough about what I am let alone what you are to cast that kind of judgment.”

  His eyes narrowed with challenge. “What if I were a murderer? Most tales about my kind depict us as aggressive, sexually-frustrated, homicidal freaks.”

  “Are you?” I was enjoying this, the candid nature of this discussion.

  “No,” Ryder said slowly. “Maybe that was true several thousand years ago, but not anymore. I’ve learned to cope. It’s why I built this club and many others like it before. I don’t need to kill when sex is readily available all around us.” He pinched his fingers and then opened his empty palm. “That isn’t to say I don’t divulge in the festivities myself every now and again.”

  I rolled my eyes and finished my glass of water. “Fair enough, but keep whatever you’ve got,” I ran my eyes over his delicious frame suggestively, “away from me. I have too much going on in my life right now to not complicate it, even for one night.” I slanted him a look and he laughed. It was easy talking to him. There was a distinct lack of pressure that I felt around Finn about the necessity to know everything about everything.

  Speaking of the devil, er, kelpie, I spotted him shoving through the crowd, making his way toward us. Ryder followed the direction of my attention and lifted a hand in a wave.

  “Finn, we were wondering where you’d wandered off to,” he called.

  “I’ve been searching for you everywhere,” Finn gritted, ignoring the incubus entirely. “Where did you go?”

  I shifted in my seat, confused. “I didn’t go anywhere. I’ve been here. In the crowd. And then when I went to grab some water, Ryder found me.” I tapped the table. “We only just sat down.”

  The kelpie glared at him. “Convenient,” he finally said through his teeth. His hands folded around the edge of the table.

  “You’re being insulting,” I snapped. “What’s your problem? You’re the one who wanted to come here. The least you can do is be civil.”

  “The lady has a point,” Ryder drawled, swirling his beer around in the can. He didn’t appear at all bothered by Finn’s aggression, and instead beckoned to someone over my shoulder. A few seconds later, a girl carrying a third stool appeared and set it next to Finn who was making a visible effort to chill.

  “There now,” Ryder said. “Sit down a
nd let’s go over this again. Maybe having her here will help you keep your cool.”

  Finn dragged a hand through his hair and air hissed from between his teeth, but he sat nonetheless, body still and braced like a horse at the starting gates.

  “Zara and I were getting to know each other. That’s all. Now, before we get mired in the past again, since that clearly didn’t go so well before, why don’t you tell me why you’re here.” Ryder flicked a hand in the air. “I’ve ensured we won’t be overheard.”

  “He can create sound-proof bubbles and obscure visible things,” Finn explained, catching my confusion. “And if he says we won’t be overheard, we won’t be overheard.”

  I nodded and ran my finger around the rim of the shot glass as Finn started talking. As his words flowed, my heart rate picked up, my breathing came faster, as the weight of responsibility I’d shaken settled firmly back on my shoulders. We were on a mission and we needed help. We were only here because we had to be. I had to trust that Finn knew what he was doing. Everything he’d done through now had seemed to be in my best interest. I didn’t think he’d deviate.

  True to his word, Ryder set aside the dramatics and listened with rapt attention, though his eyes periodically drifted over the mass of bodies, keeping watch. He asked for clarifications about the Kraken and about my magic, his foot jiggling on the peg of his stool as he processed. But when Finn described the attack on my friends at the hotel, expounding on his suspicions, Ryder turned to me.

  “Why would the Order try to kill you?” He leaned forward on the table, dark eyes sweeping across my pale face. “They’re your protectors, your church. Why would they want you dead?”

  Stunned at being addressed. I fumbled through my words. “Finn says they’ve tried to kill me before. That they were responsible for the attack on the temples two decades ago. And then I met the Hand—”

  “You met the Hand? We’re talking about the elusive, secretive leader of the Order who never leaves Rome.” Ryder’s wry tone dripped with condescension and he tapped his can on the table twice. “You stumbled across this guy in the middle of Norway on a whim. And, upon realizing his organization didn’t kill you as intended,” it was interesting that Ryder wasn’t arguing that point, “he let you go and then decided to send his men to attack you later. Do I have that right?”