by Kelly, Holly
“Hey man, I was just joking,” the human choked out.
“Just walk away. And don’t come back. If I see your face anywhere near here again, I’ll kill you. Do you understand me?”
The man’s eyes widened in fear. “Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” he said, just before Xanthus released him and he escaped into the darkness.
Xanthus looked toward the little female’s apartment building across the street. Could she have found a more dangerous place to live? He placed the gun in the glove compartment. He shouldn’t have let the gunman live.
This Dagonian female probably felt at home with these bottom-feeders.
Probably? Aw Hades. He cursed himself and the doubt in his mind. He doubly cursed that he couldn’t seem to stop himself from caring about her welfare. He’d be killing her himself, after all. The traitor had to die, regardless of his feelings and no matter how appealing she was. Of course if she died by a human’s hands then he wouldn’t…
No.
He shook his head at his own idiotic thoughts. If a human killed her, then her body would be taken to the morgue, for the humans to see. He couldn’t let that happen. He had to be the one to kill her and carefully dispose of her body. And he would, soon.
Just not tonight.
The shrill ringing of the phone was Sara’s alarm clock at 6:47 AM. Oh how she wished it had a snooze button.
“Hello,” she said, trying to project a smile through the receiver. A trace of scratchiness grated in her voice. She doubted the dolt who called her so early in the morning would notice.
“Sara, I hope I didn’t awaken you,” a deep, baritone voice hummed in her ear. Ron Hathaway—the guy Gretchen told her she’d been checking out. Well Gretchen was sort of right. Ron was a good-looking guy. Now if he’d just never open his mouth, they’d be a match made in heaven, except for the problem of her deformity. Perfect Ron would take one look at it and scream.
“No, Ron, I’ve been up for hours now. What person in their right mind would want to still be asleep at 6:47 AM?” She always said ridiculous things just to see if he was listening.
“Well beautiful, it’s your lucky day.” Nope, not listening.
“How is it my lucky day, Ron?” Her tone held a sarcastic edge.
“My date cancelled for tonight.”
Lucky her.
“So I have in my possession,” he said, “an extra ticket to the Indigo Spire concert.”
“No,” she gasped. Indigo Spire was her favorite band of all time. Darn her for always listening to her MP3 player and for not listening to the radio more often. She hadn’t even known they were coming in concert until they were sold out. “You only have one ticket? Gretchen loves them almost as much as me.”
“Well, I have one ticket for me and one for you, if you’d like to join me.”
“I didn’t even know you liked Indigo Spire.” Ron seemed more like the take-you-to-the-symphony type of guy.
“Well, actually, I don’t care for the loud music, but…”
“Well then, could I buy both tickets from you?”
“Sara, I am trying to ask you on a date.”
“Oh.” Oh shoot, was more like it. She’d rather stab herself with an ice pick than go on a date with Ron Hathaway. Besides, because of her hideous defect, dating was normally not an option. She and her body were determined to stay out of the public eye. Translation—no relationships, possibly ever. But, Indigo Spire… She just had to go see them. And to see them she had to go on a date... with Ron Hathaway.
Sara groaned.
“If you don’t answer me,” Ron said, “I’m hanging up.”
“No, no, don’t hang up. Um, what were you asking me?”
“I’m asking if you would accompany me to the concert tonight.” He enunciated each word in a clipped, annoyed voice. She’d better answer before he changed his mind.
“Yes.”
“Well then. Good. I’ll pick you up at seven.” The dial tone was his goodbye. He and Gretchen must have attended the same etiquette school.
A rumbling in her stomach told her that despite breakfast being an hour away, she was hungry.
She swung her deformity over the edge of the bed and pulled down her long nightgown. She considered her breakfast options as she wheeled into the kitchen. Should she eat Fruit Loops or granola? Did she want to be healthy? Nope. No way. Not after speaking to Ron. She needed comfort food.
A half an hour later, Sara pulled out her laptop. Her phone rang a moment later. Her heart rate picked up in that instant. Now she was excited to hear the phone. Because she had no real friends besides Gretchen, the options of people on the other end were limited. Perhaps it was a new client for her web business. She could sure use the money.
“Hello, this is Sara.”
“Hi Sara. This is Steve Rowling. I saw your picture in an advertisement and you look like the kind of girl I’d want to create the web page for my bowling alley.”
“Absolutely, Mr. Rowling, What do you have in mind?”
An hour later, Sara started on Mr. Rowling’s new web page. She worked long and hard until late in the afternoon. When her eyes began to cross, she thought she should stop working before she became even more disabled than she already was. Besides, she had to get ready for a date.
Ron didn’t say anything about dinner so she’d better feed herself before she went. She was ornery enough around Ron—add hunger to the mix and she might just have to kill him.
She ate, showered, primped, applied makeup, and put on her favorite blouse. She exchanged the blanket for a long skirt. She’d have to be lifted from her chair into Ron’s car for this date. Spandex wrapped over her defect and worn under her skirt would have to be enough to keep people from seeing it. Spandex had always worked before, but she never felt completely safe with it. It was too darn easy to take it off.
A heavy knock on her door came at 6:59 PM. She opened the door and Ron stepped in. Sara had to admit he looked amazing. His brown, gelled hair looked rumpled, in a very planned and precise way. He was dressed in washed-out jeans. Under his black, fitted t-shirt, his muscles bulged and tapered down to a narrow waist. His blue eyes shone bright against his tanned face.
He stepped up and looked her over. “Is that what you’re wearing?” Just when he started to look good to her, he opened his mouth. Too bad the idiot wasn’t mute.
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing? This blouse is awesome.”
“No, not the blouse, the… wait a minute. You aren’t able to wear jeans, are you?”
“Listen, if you’re going to hound me about my disability, I think you should just sell me your ticket and we can go separately.”
“I don’t think so. Your disability is going to turn these tickets into front row seats. This band allows anyone in a wheelchair to sit in front with their dates.”
“Really? I’ve never heard that.”
“It’s true, according to Donna from the mailroom.”
“So is that why you asked me on this date? So I can turn your tickets into front row seats?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t even like Indigo Spire. The front row seats are just a perk. No, I asked you because despite your being in a wheelchair, you’re beautiful, and I like being with beautiful women.” He winked, as if what he said should flatter her.
It didn’t flatter her. It infuriated her. Despite your being in a wheelchair… Where in the world did he learn to be such an ignorant jerk?
“Well, it’s a lucky thing this crippled girl is beautiful enough to be asked out by you.” She smiled through gritted teeth.
“Yes, it is.” He grinned. “Well, sweetheart, let’s go to this concert.”
This night threatened to be a long one.
Half an hour later, Ron wrapped Sara in his arms. Donna was right about the handicapped seating, they were awesome seats. But Ron didn’t have handicapped tickets. His tickets were for regular seats fifty rows back. He had to carry Sara up a hundred steps.
They left h
er beloved chair with security—after she threw a huge fit when Ron tried to leave it at the entrance. She looked at his furrowed and sullen face. He must still be steamed at her for causing a scene. She wouldn’t have had to cause a scene if he’d been reasonable. That chair was her only way of getting from one place to another.
“Wow, Sara, could you weigh any more?” he asked huffing, sweat beading on his brow.
Her jaw dropped. He did not just say that. “I’m sorry, I’ve been meaning to lose a few pounds. I mean, a hundred and fifteen pounds makes me obese, right?”
“I don’t know about obese, but you definitely look lighter than you are.”
One, two, three… She counted to ten in her head in an attempt to cool her temper before she opened her mouth.
“You’ll be worth the trouble, right?” He raised an eyebrow as he smiled.
She clenched her teeth and smiled back, reining in the venom she so wanted to spew at him. …Eleven, twelve, thirteen… She would be counting to a thousand the way things were going.
They reached their seats and Ron plopped her down just as the lights dimmed. A haunting melody billowed through the arena. Everyone around her stood, obscuring her view of the stage below. The music pulsed loud, beautiful, and she wished she could actually see the band. Tall bodies surrounded her, bringing her eye level with several gyrating butts—not what she was hoping to see tonight.
She lasted a full hour before she lowered herself to beg Ron to pick her up so she could see the stage. He smiled as he lifted her out of her seat, his eyes full of mischief. “Sure, but this is going to cost you more, sweetheart.” He obviously didn’t think she’d heard him. But she did hear the jerk. And if he thought he was going to get anything more than a thank you out of her, he was sorely mistaken.
Sara had decided to tell him to put her back on her seat when she glanced down to the stage and her breath caught. The sight astonished her. Fog covered the stage, lights flashed, and the band looked like beautiful creatures from another world. She loved the song they played. She sang softly, mesmerized by the music. Her body rocked to the beat. Usually, she didn’t sing where others might hear, but with the loud music, it seemed pretty safe to sing quietly.
She felt Ron’s arms tighten around her and looked up. She immediately stiffened as a jolt of shock-driven adrenaline spiked her blood. Ron was no longer the clueless, fun-loving ignoramus she’d come to know and loathe. His eyes bore down on her and he looked hungry—not like wanting a pizza from the concessions hungry. More like a predator finding a fat juicy meal hungry.
“Ron? Is something wrong?” she asked, never more grateful to be surrounded by thousands of concertgoers.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said.
“Ron? What is wrong with you? Could you please put me down?” She squirmed as she begged.
He closed his eyes and shook his head like he was trying to shake off a bad dream. “Yes, right. Sorry, this music is giving me a headache.”
She sighed as he sat her back down in the grove of pulsating bodies. Still, his eyes kept darting back to her.
When the last song ended, the lights turned up, cueing the concert’s end. They sat and waited for the crowd to thin before attempting to leave themselves. Ron fidgeted in his seat.
When he picked her up to leave, he flew down the stairs. In the car, he showed the same energy, driving very fast. His eyes continued to dart toward her. Every time their eyes met, he licked his lips.
“Um,” Sara said. “Thanks for taking me to the concert. I had a good time.”
“It wasn’t so bad,” he said. “But I enjoyed the part you sang best of all.”
“Oh. You heard that?” Her heart began to pound, the pulsing blood squeezing her chest.
“Oh yes,” he answered. “I sure did. Listen, I’m not ready to call it a night yet. Are you hungry?” Ron took a corner fast and Sara slid against the door.
“No, I’m good,” she said. She doubted she could eat a bite—not with her stomach attempting to tie itself into a knot. “I’m just tired. I’d like to go home.”
“Sure. Okay. But could we stop for a drink first?”
“I don’t think so. I’m only twenty. I can’t drink yet.”
“Don’t worry about it. I know a great place and they have fantastic virgin drinks.” A wide smile spread across his face.
“I appreciate the offer, Ron, but I’m not feeling very well. I’d just like to go home and straight to bed.”
“Ooh me too. But let me buy you just one drink.”
“Ron…”
“Just one drink and we’re out. I promise.” He held his hand up in a pledge.
Sara scowled as she turned her head and looked behind them—the direction of her apartment. “Okay. Just one drink and then you take me home.”
Ron pulled into a nightclub parking lot. The name “Shockwave” flashed in blue neon lights. He parked, opened his door, and stepped out. Sara chewed her bottom lip and twirled her hair around her finger as she waited for him to get her wheelchair from the trunk. She jumped, startled when he opened her door so soon.
“No use getting your wheelchair when we’re going to be in and out so quickly,” he said as he picked her up. About a minute later, a man nodded them in at the front door. Bodies packed the room from wall to wall. Lights flashed, music pulsed, and hundreds of people bounced and gyrated to the music. The floral air fresheners didn’t quite mask the deep scent of alcohol and a hundred sweating bodies.
Ron’s eyes followed two women—a blonde and a brunette—as they strutted by, balancing on five-inch stilettos. Their skirts were so short that if they bent over… Sara grimaced.
“Hey Ron,” the brunette said.
“Hello, Kat,” Ron answered with an appreciative grin.
“Hi Ron.” The blonde gave a little wave.
“Hi Kit,” he answered, still smiling.
“Kit and Kat?” Sara said.
“I know. Aren’t they cute?”
Cute was not the exact the word she would use for those two.
“Do you come here often?” Sara asked.
“Yeah. This is my usual hunting grounds,” he answered, his eyebrow raised.
“Don’t you mean stomping grounds?”
A smile spread across his face. “Sure.”
Sara began to re-evaluate what she knew about him. She’d always thought he was proper, refined, eloquent, annoying... Now he seemed to be revealing a side of himself she’d never seen before—a creepy side.
A commotion interrupted her thoughts. The women in the club noisily fluttered around someone or something at the front door. Even the stilettos twins ran to join the fray.
“Hey, Ron. I see your taste in women remains impeccable.” Sara turned to see a bulging, tattooed man step up to the bar. Ron plopped her down on a stool. She’d never heard such a rough-looking man use the word “impeccable” before. Maybe Ron was rubbing off on him.
“Hello, Thomas,” Ron answered with a smile.
Thomas looked her up and down. His eyes lingered on her spandex-covered stump, when they finally returned to her face, his smile widened and eyebrows rose.
“We can’t stay long,” Ron said. “We just want a quick drink. Sara here will have a virgin blue Hawaiian and I’ll have the same—with the alcohol, of course. There’s a big tip in it for you if you give her drink a little extra attention to make it just right.”
Ron brushed a stray strand of hair away from her eyes, making her skin crawl. Warning bells were going off in her head. Okay, calm down. Just one drink and I’m on my way home.
“Sure thing, Ron,” Thomas answered. He mixed the drinks. The little extra time didn’t amount to much—the drinks were in front of them in about a minute. Ron handed Thomas a bill and Sara could have sworn she saw a fifty on it. Thomas put it in his pocket. She must have been mistaken. These drinks couldn’t have cost twenty-five dollars apiece, even with a big tip added on.
She sipped her beverage, surprised at how mu
ch she liked it. It tasted fruity, tropical and, within minutes, weariness overwhelmed her. She hadn’t even finished her drink when Ron scooped her off the stool.
“I think it’s time to leave,” he said. “You’ve definitely had enough.”
“But I didn’t finish my drink.” Her voice sounded funny in her ears—distant and a little slurred. Something felt wrong in all this. A wave of nausea and dizziness washed over her. She grabbed Ron’s neck, trying to steady herself. His arms roped around her, but she still felt as if she were falling.
Sara jumped when she heard the car door shut. How did I get in the car? She could feel her pulse pounding against her skull. Something told her she needed help, but she couldn’t seem to find her voice—or move her arms.
What’s wrong with me? Then it hit her. He drugged me. The creep drugged me!
She could guess what came next. Please no! A nightmare unfolded before her eyes, yet, no matter how upset and frightened she was she couldn’t marshal a fight. The powerful drug soon dragged her down into blackness.
Xanthus paced around his Harley-Davidson motorcycle and suppressed the urge to hit something. He’d been tracking the half-human and her male companion all evening. He shook his head over the name he’d heard the human call her. Sara. In Atlantian, that name meant princess. Right. She was no princess. She was a criminal.
Xanthus growled like a trapped animal as his eyes once again shot over to Sara’s building. The adrenaline-rich blood pumping through his body told him something was wrong.
His brain didn’t know what to think.
He’d followed Sara most the night. Ron turned out to be full of surprises. After the concert, he’d taken Sara to a club filled with retched humans. Xanthus had barely escaped the place with his shirt on. The human women were so persistent, pressing in on him. He’d barely glimpsed Ron leaving with Sara—nearly losing them as they left. When they’d reached her apartment, Ron carried her into the building as she slept.
Xanthus’s instincts had been in overdrive the entire night. Ron’s hands had been on her, touching her, holding her, and that had driven Xanthus to the brink of madness. It took a concerted effort not to seize the human by the throat and rip out his windpipe, but that had been the hormones talking. Sara was his target, not Ron. Why couldn’t he remember that? He had been consumed with irrational thoughts all evening.
