The Monster Ball Year 2

by Heather Hildenbrand

  My gasp is drowned out by the wail of an electric guitar.

  The bastard must be using magic on me, but why, and what am I supposed to do about it? It’s not like I can throw my drink in his face from down here. That would only end up as purple rain. Plus, I’m supposed to be in flirt mode. Now I’m really looking forward to slipping tracking powder into this infernal traitor’s drink.

  Two sets of rainbow staircases lead to the overhanging loft. I’m about to head for them when Blaze pulls something bright green out of his pocket and begins twirling it from his finger.

  My jaw goes slack.

  No freaking way!

  I blink to clear the hallucination, but I just keep flashing on my lace undies.

  Chapter Five

  Presto—Commando!

  Horror, rage, and something bordering on arousal burns up my neck.

  Tell me I didn’t sleep with a traitor just for the sake of a mission? My brain remains conveniently silent on the subject, leaving me to fill in the gaps with my own theories. Chilton must have passed my panties on to Blaze. They had to have seen each other before the ball. Shit! I haven’t spoken one word to Blaze, and my cover is already blown . . . AND he’s waving my panties around for the whole party to see.

  No one’s looking, I remind myself.

  When I glare up, Blaze’s wicked grin lights up his eyes. He stops spinning my underwear, grasps them in his fist, then flings them over the balcony. The panties drift down, lit up by flashing strobe lights, before landing on the floor in front of a petite and extremely beautiful Korean woman with long, loose black curls tumbling over a black one-shoulder, super short long-sleeved dress.

  Deep red lips scowl up at Blaze. Apparently, I’m not the only female annoyed by his antics. A change in the fiber optic lights brings out flashes of deep red highlights as she tosses her hair over her shoulder and steps over the panties.

  Well, there’s no retrieving them now. At least my thighs are no longer flaming. He must have worked some kind of lust voodoo into the lace. Why else would I have had that reaction to him?

  I can already picture Gunnar’s disappointment if I fuck this mission up. Will he help me get my memories back if I fail?

  I try to calm my racing heart and convince myself I can salvage the situation. Chilton doesn’t know I’m an Agent of Night. He might suspect it, but I could have just as easily been an opportunist after his silver ticket. Faking friendship for a year to go to a party—even one as freaking awesome as this—seems a little unbelievable. Maybe we were friends until he received the ticket, and I couldn’t resist, eh? He looks more like the stay-in kind of guy whereas I’m a purple-haired party girl.

  I’m making up my own backstory. Gunnar did say that my memory wipe might play to my advantage. Blaze knows all the tells of an agent, which won’t be apparent about me since I can’t remember my training.

  Lifting my chest with determination, I glance up again. Blaze raises his gorgeous dark brows then snaps his fingers. Black panties appear in his hand a second later.

  Wait. Did he just . . .

  I take a step forward, notice the waft of air and lack of cover between my legs.

  Oh no he didn’t!

  That’s it. Playtime is over.

  I make my way to one of the rainbow staircases, glancing over my shoulder occasionally to keep a lock on Blaze’s location. I catch him pocketing my undies before slinking away from the railing. I set my drink on the counter of the bar as I pass, then hurry up each colored step leading to the overhanging loft above.

  I enter a large sitting area filled with circular swing chairs hanging from chains and an oversized white sofa bed filled with lounging guests. There are large frosted privacy cubes in all four corners of the loft. When a couple enters one, it lights up purple. I pass guests lounging in circular glowing chairs as I clip over to the railing where I last saw Blaze.

  Blaze is no longer there, of course. I grip the railing and briefly close my eyes, trying to sense where he’s gone.

  A balmy breeze wafts up my dress as though he’s taunting me.

  You’re getting warmer.

  I turn my head from side to side, soft lavender curls skimming my naked shoulders. A red tie grabs my attention from across the loft. Blaze is across from me. My heels stamp the floor as I stride toward a brightly lit blue cube, round the corner, and quickly pass another cube frosted white, and not lit up—at the moment.

  Blaze is already moving to a set of stairs that climbs alongside the stage where the band plays. As I head toward him, he flashes me a mischievous smile before jogging up the steps and disappearing from sight.

  My throat vibrates with a grumble of exasperation. I dash for the stairs, music thumping up my legs as I pass the band. The steps disappear into a bright cloud of rainbow colors above. All I know is Blaze went this way, so I will, too. I enter the rainbow cloud, passing through the electric haze before stepping outside onto a rooftop. City lights glimmer like stars in every direction. A fall chill kisses my skin, drifting a little too far up my dress. My body shivers with pleasure.

  Grrr, not the reaction I was going for.

  There’s a circular bar at the center of the rooftop. Partygoers dance around it as the music pumps up to the roof. The night air nips at my body right before a blast of fire chases the chill away. I take a step back as a muscular man in an unbuttoned oatmeal colored shirt that’s rolled up at the sleeves releases flames from his mouth. Noticing me, the man winks, the fire changing from orange and red to purple.

  I clap—because awesome—and he closes his mouth with a smile and bows.

  “Impressive magic,” I say.

  He steps in front of me all buff and imposing. His gaze lingers on my wrist for a moment. When he opens his mouth, I nearly jump aside, unsure if his next breath will singe off my eyebrows.

  “Milo over there is the one with magic. I’m a dragon shifter. I can do a partial shift if you like. Heads or tails?” His eyebrows wiggle.

  “That’s okay. Thanks.”

  His eyes slid down my arm to my wrist again. “Nice bracelet. Those real diamonds?”

  I fiddle with the clasp. “Rhinestones,” I answer.

  The dragon shifter wrinkles his nose. “Oh. Never mind then. Not interested in adding imitation jewelry to my treasure.”

  A handsome young man with short brown hair, a scruffy chin, distressed jeans, a white V-neck, and a slate gray jacket pushed up at the wrists swaggers up. He shuffles through a deck of cards without looking at them. Amusement dances over his brown eyes as he shakes his head.

  “Who wants a bracelet when a beautiful woman stands before him?” He tsks and turns to me. “Hello, beautiful. I believe my colleague here was telling you about me. I am Milo: warlock, entertainer extraordinaire, and—most shocking of all—single. In answer to your first question, yes, you may have my phone number.”

  I snort, putting my search for Blaze on hold. This warlock is too much. I gesture in front of my dress. “First of all, I don’t have a phone on me—”

  “No problem,” Milo speaks over my next objection. “Rake, got a pen on you, buddy?”

  The dragon shifter, Rake, reaches into the back pocket of his black skinny jeans, producing a sleek ballpoint pen with gold-coated details. He doesn’t hand it over right way.

  “It’s a Montblanc with real gold.” His eyes shine and teeth gleam when he grins.

  “Who’d you lift it from?” Milo asks.

  Rake admires the pen as he answers. “A wolf shifter—said she was an author jotting down observations in a little notebook about her experiences tonight.”

  With a smirk, Milo divides his deck of cards in half, stuffing a stack into each pocket. “Careful that one doesn’t come back around to bite you in the ass.”

  “Nah, she met an incubus. They’re still making out in the pit.” Rake juts his chin in the direction behind me.

  Before I can turn, Milo snatches the oh-so-fancy pen from Rake and captures my wrist, turning my p
alm up.

  “My number as promised,” he announces, lowering the tip of the pen to my palm. “This feels so nineties.” He chuckles. I snatch my hand away before he can ink the first number on my skin. Undeterred, he laughs as he hands the pen back to Rake and pulls the cards from his pockets. “No? Well, when you’re ready, you know where to find me. I’m up here performing for the duration of the party. I’m in charge of the evening’s finale.” He leans in closer. “It’s going to be explosive.” His eyebrows jump.

  “Can’t wait,” I say.

  Lifting his head to the night sky, Rake breathes jets of multicolored flames while Milo tosses a card from his deck into the air. Smoky butterflies in neon pink, blue, and green form above my head and flit off over the crowd.

  “Cool,” I breathe.

  Nearby, a blonde in a short black tube dress lifts her arms as though to catch the butterflies. She laughs when a green one lands on her outstretched fingers. I catch sight of a snake tattoo wrapped around a dagger with a skull at the center of its hilt on her upper bicep. Seriously wicked. I’ve got the nose ring and purple hair . . . maybe a tattoo is next.

  Lowering her hand gently, the tattooed blonde breathes on the flickering butterfly, causing it to burn bright again before it takes flight, fluttering over the crowd.

  Hmm. I wonder if she is a witch as well. There are so many distractions at this party; it’s difficult to keep focused on why I’m here.

  A woman wearing a diamond tiara emerges from the rainbow cloud and looks around. Rake’s eyes zero in on her glittering head.

  “Excuse me,” he says, pocketing his pen, then striding for her.

  Milo winks at me before disappearing into the crowd like his butterfly illusions. Cool air envelopes me again and snakes up my bare legs.

  I’ve managed to keep my eyes on the two sets of cloud covered stairs and haven’t seen Blaze attempt to sneak away. Now I just need to locate him on the roof. I scan the three sunken conversation pits behind me. White couches line the pit with an industrial looking table in the center.

  My breath stalls when I see Blaze slouched against the couch, arms stretched across the cushioned back as though he’s the king of the pit. I clip along the perimeter that sinks into the roof, pressing the skirt of my dress to my thighs to block the partygoers from getting a look at the goods from their vantage point below my knees.

  I fully expect Blaze to hoist himself out of the pit and take off, but he remains where he is, a bored half grin on his lips. I stop by his head of dark brown hair, styled similar to his surveillance photo with the slight curl, and fight the urge to choke him with his tie until he returns my panties. Instead, I climb down carefully and glare down at him. He pats the cushion beside him.

  “Have a seat. It’s a bit . . . drafty out here.”

  Damn his erotic lips and partially closed bedroom eyes with their lingering stare. He is an agency defect. A menace to society. A self-serving scoundrel. And he stole my underwear—twice.

  Somehow, I need to get him to have a drink with me.

  I sit, leaving a foot of space between us. I don’t like how his arm is stretched behind me. If I lean back, it will be like he has his arm around me. I imagine the black tribal flames hidden beneath his jacket and suppress a shiver.

  On my opposite side, a blonde in a short pink dress with a flare skirt plops into the lap of a pale man with a gray vest and long, shiny black hair. On the ledge beside him, there’s a wine glass half filled with a thick red substance. I’m guessing the guy’s a vampire. At least this one isn’t grabbing at girls. Nope, he has one falling into his lap.

  “Soo,” Blaze drawls. “Are we going to talk about why you’re here?”

  From my position on the edge of the sofa, it’s like he’s talking to my back, but I’m not about to recline all cozy-like with the traitor.

  My mind’s swirling with half-baked answers. Why does he think I’m here? I decide to go with the story I’d concocted earlier.

  “I guess your brother’s mad I took his ticket?” I pull at the hem of my dress. It didn’t seem as short—back when I had panties. I should stop fiddling; all I’m doing is drawing Blaze’s attention to my thighs. A fevered shine enters his eyes. “If you’re trying to punish me, don’t waste your time. I’m sure Chilton is much happier chilling at home. This isn’t really his scene, eh?” Hopefully I’ve guessed right. “I mean, sorry if I stole your wingman’s spot, but I’m sure you can still manage to land a babe.” Or two . . . or twenty! I’ll offer to fetch him a drink as a peace offering, sprinkle the powder in, and presto—perfect! Mission complete.

  Blaze’s eyes snap up. I turn my head to see him better. His smile has faded into something resembling confusion. Just as quickly, his eyes light up, and his lips pucker.

  “Oh shit,” he says in a tone that conveys he’s just come to a realization. “They performed a memory wipe on you, didn’t they?”

  “They who?” I demand, momentarily forgetting my mission. If he knows something, I want that information.

  His lips purse. “The agency.”

  Goosebumps prickle over my arms. I fiddle with my bracelet.

  Right. Guess I’m not going the undercover route after all. I press my lips together. I’m not about to admit I know anything about any kind of agency.

  Blaze studies me. “They probably told you somebody close to an old target did it or pretended to have no clue at all but promise to get to the bottom of it soon. How much did they take away?” He doesn’t seem bothered by the fact that I don’t respond.

  Blaze pinches the end of his tie between two fingers, sliding them slowly down to the end. His left arm remains resting behind me. I swear I can feel the heat radiating from that arm, caressing my bare back.

  “I wonder what you did to get them to turn on you,” Blaze murmurs.

  “You’re the one who turned,” I hiss, unable to stop myself

  “Sabine, we’ve already had this conversation.”

  I hate how divine my name sounds coming from his lips.

  I turn to face him, my bare bum chaffing over the cushion.

  “Have we met before?” I stare into light green eyes flecked with brown. There’s a diamond stud in his ear—probably too small to be worth Rake’s notice.

  “Six days ago at my brother’s apartment.”

  The blonde on my left straddles the vampire’s lap, rocking her hips as they make smacking sounds with their mouths mashed together. At least there’s no biting or sucking—yet.

  My brain is telling me what I don’t want to hear. If I was with Blaze Addington at Chilton’s apartment six days ago, then he’s the one I slept with. Allegedly! I hasten to tack on.

  “Did we, um . . .” I squirm a little, which is a mistake. The rubbing causes a disturbingly pleasant friction between my thighs. The grinding couple beside me isn’t helping matters.

  My cheeks heat. Rather than rise as it’s supposed to, the heat descends down my neck, between my breasts, dancing lower still.

  Blaze leans forward, bringing his left arm with him. It rests at the small of my back, fingers lightly pressing in a way that’s oddly familiar, like his hand belongs on me.

  His whispered words crawl up my neck into my ears. “Every room. Every position. Every available surface.” Shivers zip up and down my body. Blaze chuckles huskily. “Poor Chilton had to bleach the place down after we were finished.”

  I try to mask the reaction my body is having to his words by glaring at him. My vexation only makes Blaze’s grin widen. “It was earth-shattering—gravity defying. My favorite act was the wheelbarrow across the living room and back.”

  I might as well change my name to Blazette, because right now, my cheeks are flaming like out-of-control infernos, and my dress feels about ready to combust.

  Maybe I don’t want my memories back.

  I run my tongue over my teeth. “Why would I do that?” I’m asking myself more than him, but Blaze answers.

  “Bourbon.”

 
My nostrils flare. “You got me drunk?”

  “No, Sabine. You were already plastered when I found you. Don’t worry. I didn’t take advantage. I was just messing with you about the sex-fest and wheelbarrow. Pity.”

  Blaze pulls his hand away from my back.

  Relief lifts off my chest like an alien spaceship spinning away.

  “So, nothing happened?” My forehead wrinkles. Wait one hot second . . . “How did you get my underwear?”

  Firelight flashes in Blaze’s eyes. His teeth gleam in the dark.

  “I didn’t say nothing happened.”

  The woman beside me moans. My eyes widen when I look over. The skirt of her dress covers them, but I’m fairly certain she’s fornicating with the vampire. She grips his shoulders and bounces in his lap making soft gasping sounds. A trance-like gaze enters the vampire’s pale blue eyes as he stares at her gyrating over him.

  “I need a drink.” I step onto the cushion, wobbling a little when my heels sink into the soft surface, and climb out of the pit.

  I pass Rake, who has partially shifted, bringing out his scaled dragon’s head. A woman in a shimmery green dress leans against Rake, holding up her phone for a selfie with him.

  I weave through the dancers, making my way to the circular bar, which lights up in tempo with the music. Behind the counter, a female with long teal and pink hair, bright pink lipstick, and glitter sparkling all over her cheeks, bubbles with laughter as she smashes ice cubes in shades of blue, purple, and pink then layers them into a highball glass.

  I redirect myself to her colleague, a sexy man in a black tee and leather jacket who oscillates to the beat as though his body is directly connected to the notes. When his ice-blue eyes notice me, he plants his palms on the counter and leans forward like he’s been waiting to take my drink order all night. Dark, messy hair falls to one side of his tanned full-lipped face. His hair is cropped on the opposite side.