by Chloe Adler
Iphi was Sadie and Chrys's nineteen-year-old witchy younger sister. Their mother, Aurelia, was a very controlling woman. But now that she had started getting serious with Carter's grandfather, she was mellowing. Although she still scorned Chrys, who had been the favorite, for turning her into a toad back at the beginning of the year.
Jared clicked off his phone. “The girls are on their way.”
“Should we call Chrys and Carter too?” I asked.
“Already texted them,” said Alec, holding up his phone.
We had to wait a little longer for a large outdoor table, which worked out well since we also had to wait for everyone's arrival.
“So, anything new?” I asked Iphi when we were seated.
“Yeah.” She pushed a flaxen curl out of her bright-blue eyes. “Mom's practically begging me to move back in and . . .” She chanced a look over at Sadie, who was busily talking to her other sister. “I'm not very comfortable at Sadie's.” Redness flooded her cheeks. “I mean, I'm not a prude or anything, but I'm also not as,” her eyes floated upward, “open as Sadie.”
Sadie was a sesso, a sex witch, and she needed constant orgasms to access her powers. The other two sisters did not. Sadie's insatiable appetite had kept her in a state of distress for most of her life, but when she'd finally discovered who she truly was, the woman had blossomed.
“Is living there uncomfortable for you?” The question made me wonder how Chrys was faring at my house. She was much more of a moralist than Iphi, and yet I often brought lovers home.
“It would be fine if I had my own bedroom.” Her cheeks reddened again. “I'm happy that Sadie and Ryder invite guests into their bed. I think it's kind of cool, but . . .”
“But?”
“You know, Burg,” she lowered her voice, “I'm not that experienced and I mostly end up feeling like a third wheel. Er, I guess I mean a fourth wheel. Or fifth, depending.” She giggled.
“That makes sense. Is there anywhere you can go when they 'partake'?”
“I sit out in the garden a lot or on the front porch, but sometimes they wake me up at night with their, um, festivities.” Red cheeks again.
“Sounds like you'd be more comfortable back home, but my house is always open to you too.”
“Thank you.” She offered me a dimpled smile. The girl looked like a Botticelli painting. “But I think I'd have the same problem there.”
“Probably.” I laughed, bending down to pet the dog reclining at our feet.
Sadie leaned over. “Whatcha two laughing about?”
“Wouldn't you like to know,” I leered.
“Nothing.” Iphi's pale skin resembled that of a tomato.
Sadie clapped gleefully. “Iphi, you never could lie, and by the color of your face, I'd venture you've touched on my favorite subject.”
Chrys looked over from her seat. “Hey now, leave Iphigenia alone.”
Iphi waved her hand at Chrys. “Thank you, big sis, but I'm fine down here.” Then she leaned into my ear and whispered, “I don't mind talking about it one-on-one, but I'm not comfortable in a group, and I'm much less comfortable talking about my sister doing it, let alone hearing her.”
“I get it. Makes perfect sense. So go back to Aurelia's for now. We'll figure something out.”
“Mom is much happier nowadays . . .”
A tall, stunning black woman walked by our table. Iphi kept talking but her voice just stopped registering.
I'd never seen this woman in the Edge before. What deliciousness was beneath that long, embroidered coat? The bright colors reminded me of a Christmas present and I had to clamp my mouth shut to keep from gawking. That was a present I'd like to unwrap. Slowly. Button by button. I imagined revealing her delicate skin inch by delicious inch.
Obviously she liked clothes as much as I did, but that garment was more suited for Big Bear in January than the Edge in October. Did she hail from an even warmer climate? If her face and hair were any indication, that figure must be exquisite. She strolled to a table where an equally hot man waited. In contrast, he was wearing significantly less clothing, only shorts and a wife-beater tank. He had wild, curling, blond hair with tendrils skewed haphazardly over his tanned forehead. She reached out and straightened one of his curls. When she let go, it boinged right back into place. He grabbed her wrist and she giggled. The man looked like a surfer or a beach bum with crystalline-blue eyes and long, almost white, lashes. His bulging biceps were dusted with freckles. He pulled her into him playfully and she planted a kiss on his cheek. Yum. Who were they?
Iphi's waving hand in my face broke the tableau. “Earth to Burgundy!”
Chapter Two
Later that night I drove Jared, Carter and myself to the V in my 1976 red Camaro. Her name was Cherry. We were all working, which was rare since Jared spent so much of his time attending chiropractic college in San Diego proper.
“I'll just write this paycheck over to you,” Jared said, looking over at me from the passenger seat.
“Not a chance,” I replied huffily.
“Burg, I haven't paid a dime toward rent in months.”
“When you're making bank as a chiro, you can start paying rent again. Save your paychecks for food, gas and schoolbooks.”
“Yeah, man, it's not like a few hundred bucks will cover it anyway,” said Carter from the back seat. “And speaking of . . . I'd like to contribute something. I practically live there now, and with Chrys in school I know she can't contribute.”
“I knew Chrys couldn't afford rent when I asked her to move in last January. This is all on me, guys. It's my house.”
“Wow, it's paid off?” Alec asked.
“Not your worry,” I said, not unkindly. “It's taken care of. If I was struggling, that'd be a different story.” I did not discuss my finances with my friends. My father was wealthy enough to help me out and I didn't want to foster any resentment. He had offered to buy me Casa Mañana, for which I was extremely grateful. And I had learned long ago to accept such gifts from him with grace. Jared was the only one who knew he'd helped and he was sworn to secrecy.
“Alec can help,” Jared said. “He wants to pay his share and can afford to.”
“I'd really like to as well,” said Carter again.
“Please, men, no more talk of finances.” My voice was stern. It was the tone I used to let people know a matter was no longer up for discussion. It always worked.
They collectively sighed but shut their mouths.
When we arrived at the club I went straight to my dressing room to change. There was a group greenroom but since I was the most senior dancer, both in age and in start date, I had my own. Before Alec I was also the dancer who'd drawn the biggest crowd.
My room was furnished similarly to my house, with my favorite Moroccan decor. Again I blamed my astrological sign for my love of rich, sensual velvets and brightly colored brocades. I had splurged on the intricate, hand-carved, Balinese teak, four-poster bed. When I'd seen it in an import store in San Diego, I hadn't thought twice. It was during times like that my privilege showed. Where furniture and decor was concerned, I didn't hold back. Nor did I when it came to clothing or feeding my friends. I told myself it wasn't because I was entitled, it was because I came from money and made plenty of it on my own. Why shouldn't we all have the best? Within reason.
Sitting down in front of my black, wooden vanity, also elaborately carved, I reapplied my makeup. I never left the house without wearing a layer of foundation, mascara, eyeliner and lipstick, but for the club I had to add even more. My signature colors were red and, of course, burgundy, and my lips and nails were always painted to match accordingly. At this time of year, as we drew closer to Beltane and Yule, I favored red.
There was a brisk knock on my door.
“Come in,” I said hesitantly.
It creaked open and Benedict poked his head in. “Hey, Burgundy, is now a good time to introduce you to our new dancer?”
“As good as any.” I returned to my ma
keup application, tracking the doorway in my periphery.
A dark woman with long, plaited hair walked in tentatively. I whipped my chair around, less to intimidate and more out of curiosity. Dancers came and went at the V but they were mostly white, so whenever a person of color joined our team, I was ecstatic.
However, the vision I was presented with almost knocked me completely out of my chair. It was the woman from the cafe. The word “stunning” did not do this woman justice. She was, perhaps, the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen and I'd seen a lot of women—up close and personal.
Benedict cleared his throat. “Burgundy, I'd like you to meet Tiyah.”
I leapt out of my chair to shake her hand, which she had extended toward me. It was slender, with lovely long fingers, and warm to the touch. Human.
“Tiyah.” I was at a loss for words, which had never happened to me before. I've been surrounded by beautiful people, especially here at the V. I had oodles of handsome men and lovely women throw themselves at my feet. Sometimes I tasted and other times not. Because the fact was, no one really moved me.
This woman moved me.
She gazed into my violet eyes, not removing her hand from mine and not speaking. Her own eyes were deep and basalt brown, like hardened lava hiding liquid magma beneath. Her lips were large like mine, but where my top lip was larger, hers nestled on the pillow of her bottom lip. I imagined taking those lips between mine and sucking hard or, better yet, biting them until I could taste her blood.
Benedict cleared his throat again, and she looked down, breaking eye contact, yet her hand remained in mine. “I'll leave you two to get acquainted.” He didn't bother to hide the smile in his voice.
Neither one of us responded or turned to watch him leave.
I was acutely aware that Tiyah was sitting in front of the stage to watch my routine. She had a lot of dancing experience but not “this kind” of dancing.
Entering as a sexy mad hatter—my favorite outfit—I paraded around on stage. My short, black, lace skirt stopped midthigh and the stiletto boots came up to my knees. I had on a tight bustier with a black and gold lamé fitted dinner jacket. The best part of the outfit, however, was the top hat. An oversized playing card was tucked into the band.
Although I often moved in similar styles, I always let my body feel its way through the music, picking the time it wanted to gyrate or sway. At certain beats I would swing on the pole or make eye contact with people in my audience, tossing my hair and licking my lips. The only part of the act that hit the same cues each time was the disrobing. It had to be perfectly timed so that by the end of the song I wore only my pasties and G-string.
This time, however, I couldn't take my eyes off that woman, and it wasn't until halfway through my act that I finally noticed the man sitting with her. It was the same blond, white surfer boy from earlier. When I moved my eyes from her to him, he shifted in his seat and put his arm around her, as though showing me she was his property.
Whatever. I could have anyone I wanted in the Edge and beyond. Humans traveled near and far to watch me dance and beg me to snack on them. Turning my attention elsewhere, I finished my set, making sure to end up near her so she could get a very good look at my almost-naked body.
The bar was crowded when I returned twenty minutes later, wearing my long velvet robe, but Jared had saved a seat for me.
“Great set.” He smiled, placing a Michter's single-barrel bourbon in front of me. Jared knew all my favorites.
“Thanks.” I leaned over the bar. “Hey, did you see the new girl yet?”
“New girl?”
“The new dancer that Benedict just hired, Tiyah. She's from Jamaica.”
He shook his head. “Nah, but you know me. If they don't have a cock 'n' balls, they're pretty much invisible to me.” He winked and then jutted his chin to the opposite end of the bar. “Like that guy. I noticed him.”
There sat the very surfer boy who had been manhandling Tiyah. He held his drink up to me, offering me a curt nod.
“He's with her, I think.” I rolled my eyes at Jared. “The good ones are always taken.”
“Ain't that the truth.” He grinned, turning his head toward the stage, where his own man was entering.
A hand on my shoulder almost made me jump. I was pleasantly surprised to find that it was Tiyah's hand.
“My husband wants to meet you,” she said, pointing to where he sat. “Is that okay?”
Crap, they were married? Life was just not fair. “Sure.” I stood up and followed her over.
He extended his hand to me as Tiyah reclaimed her seat beside him. “Hi, I'm Elijah Aaron, Tiyah's old man.” He grinned, his smile stretching all the way to his light-blue eyes. Twinkling and pale, they reminded me of moonlight shimmering on the surface of an ocean. “She told me how helpful you were earlier and I wanted to meet you.”
“Elijah.” I shook his hand.
“Here.” He stood up, offering me his barstool.
I couldn't stop eyeing his sublime body but forced my gaze upward. That windblown hair, sun-kissed skin and boyish grin. Even though he truly did look like every surfer dude in San Diego, something in those sparkling eyes promised mischief. What a gorgeous pair he and Tiyah made. His white-blond curls towering over her delicious black tresses. Her honey-colored eyes to his sky-blue. The colors of summer and winter woven together. A Jamaican and a Jew. I loved that. Oh yes, he was a hottie indeed, inspiring just as many dirty thoughts as she did.
He, too, sized me up as they moved closer to talk over the noisy bar. Were they exclusive? Or swingers?
“So you're both new to Distant Edge?” I asked.
“We are,” said Elijah.
Tiyah laughed nervously. “We officially moved here yesterday.”
“What made you choose the Edge?” Most humans moved here because they were either enamored with the Signum or they were Signum-rights activists.
“I'm a divemaster,” said Elijah, “working toward becoming a pro dive instructor in the US.”
“There are a lot more opportunities outside the States,” said Tiyah, “like Honduras or, well . . .”
“Practically anywhere else,” he finished. “But I missed home, and Tiyah was willing to give In-N-Out and the NFL a try.”
“He's a really good diver.” Her voice was both high-pitched and sultry.
“Well, you certainly look the part,” I offered.
Elijah laughed, which made me instantly like him. “Do you dive?” he asked.
“Nope. Not really my thing.”
“Have you ever tried it?”
I ran my hands over my body. “Do I look like I've tried it?”
He shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
Tiyah leaned forward and squeezed my arm, all earnest appeal. “It's really fun. If you're game, we could take you.”
Well, hell yes. Get next to them in a wet suit? Where do I sign up? “You could probably talk me into it.” I winked at her.
“That would be great,” Elijah said, but his brows drew together as his gaze dropped to Tiyah's hand. She pulled back as if burned, reaching for a glass on the bar top that contained more melted ice than liquor.
Jealousy? Not swingers then. “So where did you find a place?”
She giggled nervously. “We're currently on a boat in the Trinidad Marina.”
“A boat boat, not a houseboat?”
“Right,” he said. “It's thirty-eight feet and perfect for the two of us.” Was it just me, or had there been a certain emphasis on “two”?
I scrambled for a response. “Do you sail?” I'd always wanted to go sailing.
“We do,” he said.
“Actually, the boat belongs to Elijah,” she said, smiling.
Impressive, but wouldn't it belong to the both of them if they were married? “You have a gorgeous accent, Tiyah. You're from Jamaica?”
Her eyes lit up. “Jah.”
“And you two met there?”
“I sailed there last summer to di
ve, saw her and fell hard. I couldn't come back home without her.”
Nor could he bring her back here and have her work legally without marrying her.
“Aww, honey.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek but her eyes were glued to mine.
Their vibe was all over the place. Poly? Or maybe she was bisexual and he let her play? I hoped she wasn't merely bi-curious.
She leaned toward me and I picked up the thick scent of fresh peaches. I could sink my fangs into her peach. Focus.
“So where do people go dancing in the Edge?” She waved her arm around. “Besides here.”
“Yeah,” he chimed in, “is there other nightlife? One would think, with so many Signum.”
My dark mane bounced atop my shoulders. “The pier is the best place for nightlife. There are restaurants that stay open late and a fun ecstatic dance club called Promise. I often go there during the week. My favorite DJ spins on Wednesdays.”
“Sounds promising.” Elijah winked.
Tiyah clipped his shoulder.
“You forgot your drink,” Jared said from behind the bar, handing it to me as I turned. “Anything for your friends?”
I introduced everyone and ordered another round—though not for me; I was thirsty for something else altogether. “It was great to meet you both.” I slid off the stool.
Elijah reached out to touch my arm. “Can we get your number?”
My heart kicked over. Okay, maybe they were poly.
He leaned toward me, whispering in my ear, “It would be great for Tiyah. She's shy and needs friends here. Especially while I'm at work.”
Argh, stupid heart. I did not need any more friends, but that woman intrigued me. “Sure.” I grabbed the phone he was holding out and punched in my number. “See ya kids around.”
Chapter Three
After work, sizzling with sexual frustration, I dialed up Sadie. The last thing I wanted was to pick up some random piece, but I needed to come and not alone. My entire body tingled at the thought of that woman, Tiyah—and if I let my mind go there, her husband too. Yum.
