But he pulled himself together, and I struggled to ignore the burst of disappointment that lit up my chest. What was that? I didn't need this—whatever this was—with Ren, especially not now.
Dragging in a deep breath, he finally looked away and stared out over the dance floor. A little dazed, I watched the ancient called Marlon take the stairs with long strides. On the second floor, men and women immediately flocked to him, surrounding him near the couches. Two fae joined them, their silvery skin luminous in the brighter lights of the second floor. As Marlon sat on a couch, one of the fae—a tall, elegant blond—sat down beside him, speaking intently.
Instinct flared to life. "I need to get up there."
"What?" Disbelief colored his tone.
"He's up there, and that's why we're here, right? To learn something, and he just got here. He doesn't know who I am." The lights over the dance floor changed colors, going from a soft white to a vibrant blue. "I'm going up."
"Ivy." He grabbed my arm, swinging me back against the hard length of his body. "Are you insane?"
I glared up at him. "No. I'm not insane, you dick. I can get up there."
His eyes narrowed. "I have no doubt in my mind that you can get up there. It's really not that fucking hard. You just walk up the steps, but if he even suspects that you are a part of the Order, I won't be able to get to you in time."
"I don't need you to save me, Ren." I yanked my arm free.
A vein thrummed along his temple as he lowered his head toward mine. "It's too dangerous."
I held his stare. "People are starting to pay attention to us." And that wasn't a lie. A couple of the dancers nearby were watching us. "If we keep this up, the fae are going to figure it out on their own. So let me go. I'll head up there, and you'll go to the bar."
Several seconds passed, and then he nodded curtly. "Go."
"I didn't need your permission," I spat back.
Ren smirked. "Honey, I know what you need and you're going to get it."
My body flushed hot with a mixture of annoyance and scalding desire. Raising my arm, I gave him a one-finger salute.
He laughed.
Spinning around, I stalked across the dance floor, easily moving in and out of the gyrating bodies. I couldn't believe what Ren had done—what I had allowed him to do. I had no valid excuse for it. I couldn't even deal with it right now, and I couldn't afford to be so distracted. Shaking off the lingering arousal and confusion, I focused on my job.
A fae stood near the bottom of the spiral staircase, but the female didn't stop me as I started up the steps. I'd half expected her to jump out and demand some kind of code word, but they never expected an Order member to find their way in here, and humans were no threat to them.
But I was.
My heartbeat steadied as I hit the second floor, and I slowed my steps as I neared the group surrounding the ancient. All of them looked out of it, eyes glassed over like they'd smoked a ton of weed. They were clearly under a glamour, and maybe even fed on. I wanted to grab all of them and force them down the stairs, but yeah, that would end badly.
Inching closer to the group, I stopped and grabbed the railing, staring down onto the first level. I sought out Ren, finding him seated at the bar next to a male fae. They were actually talking. I snorted and turned back to the group. Leaning against the railing, I debated my next move.
Marlon sat in the center of the couch, his broad thighs spread wide and his black dress shirt half unbuttoned. The blond fae was on one side, staring at the human female whose cherry red fingernails were sliding mighty close to third base.
"We have a lock on another one," the blond fae was saying.
Marlon smiled at the woman, but the curve of his perfect lips lacked all warmth in a way that concerned me greatly for her well-being. "That's good. How many will that make, Roman?"
"Five, once it's carried out." Roman's pale eyes glittered. He said something else, but I couldn't hear it over the bass of the music. "But we know."
I inched closer, turning sideways as I tried to blend in among those crowding the lounge area. Were they talking about how many members they'd killed? Sounded like it. Trent had made four.
Marlon reached out, curving his hand around the nape of the woman's neck. He said something too low for me to hear as he held her gaze intently. The woman's hand slipped between his thighs. Jesus. I quickly averted my gaze.
"We don't have much more time," I heard Marlon say. "We cannot let him down. Not this time."
Him? My little ears perked way up.
"We know the location," Roman said, his upper lip curling. My chest squeezed. Could they be talking about knowing the location of the gate? "I told you that. The bastard broke, and we will not fail this time."
"And we aren't the only ones who know, either." Marlon's grip on the woman's neck tightened, causing a whimper to escape her lips.
Roman's response was lost in drunken laughter from a nearby couch, but a horrifying notion blossomed in the pit of my stomach. The bastard broke? Trent had been tortured. If what Ren and I suspected was true, that the fae were hunting those who might know the location of the gates, had Trent known and told the fae before they killed him? God, none of this was good, especially if they knew where the gate was.
A human waitress appeared at the top of the stairs, carrying a serving tray full of shot glasses; however, three of the drinks were a strange, vibrant purple color. Was that nightshade? My suspicions were confirmed when she delivered those three drinks, one to the ancient and the other two to the fae. As the waitress doled out the rest to the humans, she glanced up. Her gaze was a clear brown, not muddied or glazed over like the others. She wasn't glamoured, but as she straightened, the blond fae who sat to the left of Marlon snaked an arm around her waist, tugging her back.
Tottering off balance, she dropped her empty tray and landed in his lap. Startled fear flashed across her pretty face as the fae gripped her chin, wrenching her head toward his. She grabbed his arm, her knuckles turning white.
She knew what they were.
Grasping the waitress's face, he moved his mouth over hers. It looked like a kiss—it was a kiss, but a fae's kiss was poisonous. That was how they fed off of mortals, how they hooked them in.
The waitress's hands slipped away from the fae's arm to rest limply at her sides. I stepped forward but stopped myself before I did something stupid. Not intervening was one of the hardest things I ever had to do, and part of me withered, turned black and stale as I stared at her bare arm, saw the veins darken under her pale skin before fading to a faint blue as the waitress was finally let go. She stumbled to her feet, swaying as she reached for her tray. Those brown eyes weren't so clear anymore.
My hands curled into helpless fists, but movement caught my attention. The brunette fae was suddenly prowling around the couch, heading toward me. The look on his angular face was what I imagined a lion looked like when it spotted a gazelle. My heart thumped heavily, but I kept my expression guileless, which meant I probably looked half stupid as he stepped around me, leaning into my back like a total creep.
"Little one," a deep, cultured voice spoke directly in my ear. "You look a bit lost."
Wrapping a curl around my finger, I forced what I hoped was a naïve, harmless smile. "I was looking for the restroom. Do you know where it is?" I added a giggle for extra effect.
The dark haired fae was stunning, the contrast of the silver skin and hair appealing. He stepped closer, his hip brushing mine, and I forced myself not to move, to not even react when he wrapped his cool fingers around my wrist, pulling my hand away from my hair. "This is not the restroom."
No shit, Sherlock. "I see that now."
He tilted his head to the side, the movement snakelike. "What is your name?" When I didn't answer within a reasonable timeframe, which appeared to be a second, he curled his other hand around my jaw, roughly forcing my chin up. Pain shot down my neck. His gaze locked on to mine, those blue eyes unnaturally bright. "What is your nam
e?"
"Anna," I lied, maintaining eye contact.
He dropped my wrist, but his arm circled my waist. He didn't blink, not once, and I knew he was attempting to glamour me. I forced my body to relax, for my arms to hang limply at my sides when what I really wanted to do was gouge out his eyes and force them down his throat. He drew himself up against my body, his shrewd gaze locked on to mine.
"Anna? That's a silly little name." He lowered his head, his breath icy on my cheek. There was a good chance I might hurl in his face. "Perfect for a silly little human."
My heart stuttered to a stop as his cold breath moved closer to my mouth. No incantations or four leaf clovers prevented a fae from feeding. If he got any closer, he would, and I had a feeling that was where he was heading with this. My mind raced. I couldn't let this happen. He could feed, and like the waitress, I would stumble away in a daze that would last for minutes, maybe hours, and if I was lucky, I would come out of it okay. Or he could feed and take everything. No way could I allow that to happen, but if I did anything, he'd know I hadn't fallen under the glamour and he'd know what I was.
Shit.
I let my right hand drift to my thigh. There was no way I was going to let this thing feed on me. If I had to fight my way out of—
Suddenly, a loud piercing wail went off, blaring over the music. The fae released me and stepped back, wincing as he glanced up at the ceiling. "What the hell?" he snarled, placing his hands over his ears.
I was jostled to the side as one of the humans staggered to their feet, knocking into me. As if the roof had been peeled open and the sun was exposed, the overhead lights clicked on, casting the club in a harsh light.
The fire alarm continued to roar, and as the fae turned away, I made a break for it. Hurrying toward the stairs, I darted down them, gliding between others who moved much slower due to the glamour, the feedings, or too much to drink.
At the bottom of the stairs, Ren waited. Without saying a word, he gripped my hand, and we joined the crowd stampeding the exits. We were tossed back and forth, and I was sure if we hadn't been holding hands, we would've been torn apart. The scent of sweat and liquor was overpowering as we were packed in.
Shouts rose from behind us, and a shiver coursed down my spine as panic became a real, tangible entity in the club. Someone slammed into my back, pitching me forward. My heels slipped, but I caught myself before I fell. Shooting a look in Ren's direction, I saw his jaw set hard and his gaze fastened ahead. Finally, after what felt like forever, we poured out into the street, into the night air. We didn't wait with those who wandered the sidewalk in front of the club or had stopped, forming small huddles. Sirens blared in the distance. Quickly turning to our left, we made our way to the parking garage.
I waited until we had crossed the street before I spoke. "You pulled the fire alarm, didn't you?"
"How else was I going to get your ass out of there?" he responded without looking at me.
"I totally had it under control."
He snorted. "Didn't look like that from where I was standing. Looked like you were about to become a pop tart."
Irritation prickled from the inside out, mainly because he was right, and because I realized I was still holding his hand. What the hell was up with that? I wiggled my fingers free and resisted the urge to smack the smirk right off his lips. "I think they know where the gate is."
That got his attention. He glanced down at me as we continued to march forward. "What makes you think that?"
I told him what I'd overheard, and he let out a low curse. "If they know where the gate is and we don't, we are fucked."
"Well, don't you sound like a Negative Ned," I muttered, squinting as a cop car raced by. "Let's go ahead and stock up on water and canned beans."
He cast me a sidelong look. "Let's just say that the members they killed were guardians of the gate. That means they are down people, and those the Order promotes won't be as skilled or prepared when—not if—the fae launch their attack. If they open that gate . . ."
We entered the dimly lit garage. "I get it but . . . can't we go to David? I mean, I think we have enough evidence at this point. Together, we can make him understand. He's the sect leader. He has to know where the gate is."
Ren didn't answer for a moment. "What if David is the one working with them?"
I gasped as I stopped near a large cement beam. "Are you serious?"
He turned to me, features shadowed. "We don't know, Ivy. It could be anyone."
"It could be me," I challenged.
"They shot you. For some reason, I don't think they'd shoot the person helping them. At least not yet," he replied dryly. "Plus, you are . . . too strong for that."
Now I was gaping at him for a different reason.
"And don't say how do I know you're too strong. I'm a fucking great judge of character," he continued, and my brows flew up. "It's not you, and I don't trust any other member of the Order, except maybe Jerome."
"Jerome has been deemed trustworthy? Do tell how he earned that honor." I was insulted for the other Order members.
"He's too damn mean to be influenced by the fae," he reasoned, and yeah, I kind of had to give that point to him. "Anyone else I don't trust. And neither should you."
I folded my arms across my chest. "I'm sure they feel the same way about you."
"Do I look like I give a shit if they do? That doesn't change the fact of why I'm here and what I have to do." Turning to the side, he thrust his fingers through his hair. "Tonight wasn't a total bust."
"You're right. It wasn't. Because of me."
Lowering his arm, he looked at me blandly. "Oh, really?"
I smiled widely. "Yep. I'm awesome. Like I put the 'awe' with the 'some.' Admit it. I got the details while you played Chatty Cathy with a fae at the bar."
His eyes narrowed.
"We know that they are picking off Order members and that they most likely know where the gate is. They're working together. That is more than we knew yesterday," I said.
Ren faced me fully. "You know what I'll admit?"
I cocked my hip out. "Waiting."
"I'll admit that you felt fucking sweet as silk against my fingers when I had my hand between those pretty thighs."
Whoa. Totally not expecting that. My eyes widened as warmth invaded me. "I-I don't know what you're talking about."
He laughed. "That's bullshit."
"No it's not!" I unfolded my arms, anger fueling my next words. Anger mostly directed at myself. "What happened inside that club? What do you think it was?"
Ren took a step toward me, lowering his voice. "It was you about five seconds away from having the best orgasm of your life."
Oh my God, he did not just say that. "Y-You," I sputtered. What in the hell did I say to that? "I was acting," I finally spat out. "I was pretending."
He was only a handful of inches from me now, and when he laughed, I wanted to hit him. "Pretending? You were faking inside?"
"Are you a fucking parrot?"
"Oh, Ivy, babe . . ." He chuckled under his breath. "You're a shit liar, you know that?"
My hands curled into fists. "I am not lying."
"Yeah. Okay. Then how do you explain your panties being so wet they were practically drenched?"
My eyes widened. Mortification swept through me, but he wasn't done. His mouth kept on moving. "I bet I could taste you on my fingers right now. But you were pretending? Then that sweetness between your thighs must be one hell of an actress."
I didn't even think.
Stepping forward, I swung at him. No bitch slap either. My closed fist was heading for that jaw. Unfortunately, he was too fast for that. He caught my wrist before my fist connected.
"That's not nice," he said. "No reason to be so violent and a liar."
My rage knew no limit. "Oh my God, you arrogant, self-important, mother—"
"You were not acting. You were not pretending." The teasing dropped from his tone as his voice hardened. "You were riding my han
d, and Ivy, there isn't a damn thing wrong with that. What's wrong is that you're acting like nothing happened between us. That's total shit. You lit up for me like a damn firework and I barely touched you."
"I—"
My back hit the beam, and before I could take my next breath, Ren's entire hard length was pressed against the front of my body. His head was low, his face in mine. "Do not tell me again you were pretending. You and I both know the truth. I want you. I think I've made that abundantly clear."
Wicked Page 19
