Kings of Midnight: Book One of The Midnight Saga

by J Q Anderson

“You own the studio. That's impressive too. Though I can’t say I’m surprised. You strike me as smart and probably extremely talented.”

  “Thanks.” He smiled. “You’re a more interesting topic, though. Tell me more about being a dancer.”

  I told him about Giselle and answered his questions as we ate. He absorbed every word I said and seemed genuinely interested. When we were done, he glanced at his watch. My heart fell. Right, I was supposed to be in a hurry.

  “Thanks for lunch, Sebastián.” I loved the sound of his name. “I should get going.” Reaching for my bag, I peeked at my watch to realize we had been sitting there for over an hour.

  “I really enjoyed your company, Camila. We should do this again.” He flashed me a dashing smile as he slid some bills under his glass. I could run back to rehearsal for that smile.

  My ankle felt stiff when I stood, and I wanted to walk a bit to stretch it. The painkillers were doing their job beautifully, and the throbbing was receding. Slowly, we made our way in the direction of the taxi stop. Our hands accidentally brushed, and I flinched at the contact. It was like a sting of static, but in a strange, good…really good way. A group of teens passed us, nearly bumping into me, and as if it was the most natural thing in the world, he interlaced his fingers with mine and pulled me against him to let them by. Zap. Double zap. Mute. Every vital function inside me came to a halt. I looked up at him, stunned by the boldness of the gesture, but even more surprised at how much I liked it. His hand completely enveloped mine. He glanced at me from the corner of his eye, and a little comma curved up his mouth. Heat rose to my face, and I hoped he couldn’t feel the sudden rise in my body temperature. I wished we could walk like that forever. It was so strange to feel chemistry with anyone other than Marcos. I liked it. He broke my reverie when he stopped and turned to me.

  “I want to see you again,” he said.

  My heart leapt into a Latin dance. I leaned back on the railing bordering the walkway along the river. I looked up at him, dumbstruck. He was beautiful, but it was that aura of masculinity and confidence that sent my pulse racing.

  A sudden breeze whirled about, and he gently brushed my hair off my face. My skin tingled at the contact. Then, holding my gaze, he slowly leaned closer, placing his hands on each side of the railing, locking me in between. Desire thundered through me. It was so fucking sexy, I thought I was going to dissolve. We were just inches apart, and the warmth from his body was electric, a magnet. His fresh, delicious scent saturated the air around me, blurring my thoughts under a mix of suede, soap, sunshine, and something bewitching that was just…him. I wanted to launch myself forward and kiss him, grab his shirt in my fists and crush him against me. What was this? For a few seconds, neither of us moved, we just looked at each other in silence, the tension building between us, sparking. I racked my brain for words, trapped in that strange, magnetic force between us.

  “What is it about you, crazy girl?” he murmured so close our lips were almost touching. “I’m spellbound. I want…”

  My heart was galloping. Could he hear it?

  “Actually,” he went on, leaning closer. “Right now, I just want to kiss you. Is that…okay?”

  Damn. My eyes locked on his mouth, his lips slightly parted, full, sexy as fuck, and I wondered how they would taste…God. What the hell was happening to me?

  “I…Okay,” I whispered, rapt in his spell, and closed my eyes. His arms suddenly closed around my back, and before I could breathe, his mouth was on mine.

  Holy mother shit.

  Desire exploded inside me, and the taste of him immediately invaded me. Suddenly there was nothing else, just him. Us. He inhaled sharply, and I parted my lips to give his tongue access. Clenching his shirt, I pulled him closer, like I had imagined. And I couldn't get enough of him. Of this. It was like a dormant addiction that had been waiting to be triggered. I clung to that moment as if it were the only thing that mattered. The world spun as he kissed me hungrily, then gently, until, very slowly, our lips finally parted. I looked up at him in a daze. His beautiful eyes were hooded, a storm of churning ashes.

  “Damn,” he whispered.

  “Damn.”

  He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead to mine, our breaths crashing. Then he squeezed me in his arms and gave me one last, gentle kiss.

  “You better go,” he said, his voice gruff. “Before I forget we’re out in public and really kiss you.”

  Oh, man. That hadn’t been a real kiss? I wanted one, then. I wanted him to kiss the hell out of me. I wanted to forget about everything else. Forget about a world where I was doomed to be in love with someone who would never love me back, forget about my shitty rehearsal that morning and how I had screwed it up. The only place I wanted to be was here. Now. With him. For the first time in a long while, I had opened the door to a tsunami of emotions I had never allowed myself to feel, and I didn’t want to think. Why couldn't we just forget…for a few moments at least?

  Our eyes were locked in a silent stare-off. Pale uncharted against hazel. A corner of his mouth pulled up, but he didn't move. I bit my lip, wishing I was more experienced at this seduction stuff.

  “Well…good-bye, Sebastián,” I said, because I didn’t know what the hell else to say, and I didn’t want him to think I was an easy catch he just bumped into.

  “How are you getting home?”

  I gestured to the cab stop and he narrowed his eyes.

  “Hm. Come with me,” he said, taking my hand. Then he stopped abruptly. “No. Actually…stay here.”

  “What?”

  “Wait here a sec. I’ll be right back. Don’t leave.” He pressed a small kiss to my lips and made me sit on a nearby bench. He jogged to his building, his lean, beautiful body moving swiftly, then disappeared through a side door. I didn’t know what I was still doing there, and yet, I was immobile, entranced by all these new sensations he had provoked in me. Holy shit. Who was this guy? I had known him for a day, and he already had me sitting on a bench, waiting for him. Where had my usual frostiness toward guys gone? Maybe it was that unshakable self-confidence of his. It was sexy as fuck. I wondered what Nata would say about this…

  Just then, a silver-gray BMW motorcycle roared to a stop beside me. Pulling up his visor, Sebastián grinned, a boy with a cool toy, and handed me a helmet. I gave him a horrified look and shook my head.

  “I’m not getting on that.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Do we have to do this every time I offer you a ride? You tell me you won’t come, then I convince you it’s safe, then you say yes and end up all over me, kissing me and whatever.”

  “What?”

  He gave me a devilish grin. “Seriously. I promise you’ll be home in less than ten minutes. But…if you’d rather pay for a cab, it’ll cost you an arm and a leg in this traffic, and you almost lost an ankle last night. In your profession, body parts are precious.”

  I couldn’t keep a straight face and glanced back at the bike.

  “My ballet instructor would have a stroke if she saw me on a motorcycle.”

  He winked. “I won’t rat you out.”

  I debated. It did look fun. When I was younger, I used to love riding dirt bikes and snuck away with my brother and his friends. This bike was a fine piece of hardware too. It surely cost a fortune.

  “So?” He sighed. “We have to work on your decision-making. It’s a tad slow.”

  I snatched the helmet from his hand. “You better get me home fast and in one piece.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  He dodged the rush hour traffic with amazing ease. I wrapped my arms around his back, pressing my face to his shirt, grinning like a dumbstruck fool. I hadn’t felt this free in years…and those few, blazing moments were just what I needed right then. True to his word, he pulled over by my door in record time.

  “Seven minutes. Impressive,” I said, pulling off my helmet and shaking my hair loose as I slid off the bike. He was watching me with amusement. If I knew better, I would say he was
checking me out. I handed him back the helmet. “Thanks. It’s been an adventure.”

  He gave me a long look, apprehension flashing in his eyes. “Have dinner with me tomorrow,” he said, his expression serious. “Chila in Puerto Madero? I’ll pick you up from the theater. What time are you done?”

  “Oh.” Chila. My breath caught. An exclusive, top restaurant by the water. I had never been, but it was always featured in magazines. It was elegant, romantic—No, no. I didn’t need any more distractions. “Um…I’m usually done by seven, but—”

  He leaned over and took my face in his hand. “Seven it is, then.” He pressed a swift kiss to my lips, then quickly turned. Pulling his helmet back on, he roared the engine and sped off.

  “But…” I let my shoulders drop, exhaling as my fingers reached my lips. What the hell was happening? My heart was pounding like crazy. It was like skydiving without ever reaching the ground. Shit.

  I was in trouble.

  Chapter 6

  I came home to an empty apartment, took a shower, and wrapped myself in ice packs before dozing off in front of the TV. I woke two hours later with a nearly frozen ankle. The pain had receded, and for the first time in a while, I felt rested. I decided to make a nice dinner for Nata and me. I enjoyed cooking and needed to occupy my mind with something relaxing. A new kind of anticipation pulsed in the back of my mind at the thought of seeing Sebastián the next day. Crap. How would I manage to concentrate on work knowing he would be waiting afterward? And what the hell was I going to wear to Chila? Shit, I couldn’t ask Nata for a dress. Normally she would be stoked if I told her I met someone, but after my recent incident in class, I feared she would articulate what my conscience was already grilling me about: my full focus should be on the new role Federico had given me and not on hot guys on motorcycles and fancy restaurants. I was walking on thin ice at work. But there was something about Sebastián I couldn’t turn away from.

  I cursed at the contents of our nearly empty fridge. Grabbing my bag and keys, I headed to the little shop downstairs to get ingredients for my signature chicken curry.

  While I waited for the chicken to cook, I stretched out on a lounge chair in our modest penthouse balcony, watching the lights of the city below. My chest was heavy with my fuckups from the morning’s rehearsal. Today had been…disconcerting. Getting distracted was not something I had ever struggled with before. Dancing was what I did, the core of who I was. My whole universe had always revolved around ballet. I liked it that way, simple. And yet, despite the solidity of my convictions, I didn’t regret meeting Sebastián. He had brought a breath of oxygen to the usual vacuum of ballet and the torturous, constant longing I felt for Marcos. He had been a welcome distraction. One I knew I couldn’t afford at the moment, but somehow kept luring me back for more. I slid deeper into the chair and clutched my shirt up to my nose to inhale the last traces of his scent. A wave of something beautiful swam in my stomach.

  A loud squat on my sneaker startled me back to the present. Shit. Literally. I scowled at the bird flying off. I was being ridiculous. I had known this guy for five minutes, and he was screwing with my focus at work? Hell no. Today had been a warning. Madame wouldn’t put up with my crap. Focus, Camila. Focus. I stormed off to the kitchen to set the table while I mentally prepared for the next morning.

  An hour later, Nata walked in with Marcos, and let her bag drop. “You’re hands-down the best roommate ever,” she said, eyeing the food on the counter. “This looks amazing. Thank you. I’ll go shower real quick, I’m starving.” Turning theatrically on her toes, she hurried to her room.

  Marcos kissed me on the cheek. “I’m staying. You made enough?”

  “I figured.” I slapped his hand as he took a carrot stick. “Out of here.”

  He lifted me up with one arm as he snatched a handful of sliced celery with the other. I kicked my feet in the air.

  “Dude, I’m holding a knife. Put me down, I mean it.”

  He kissed my neck, laughing. “Mmmm, you smell amazing. Like butter and coconut. Makes me want to take a bite, right here,” he crooned, nibbling my neck. I jabbed my elbow at his stomach, stifling the chill that ran through my body whenever we were this close. Before sliding me down, he kissed me again just to annoy me. He then grabbed a beer out of the fridge, leapt over the back of the couch and reached for the TV remote to flip through the channels.

  “What happened to you today? You weren’t there at lunch, and Verónica said Vronsky kicked you out?” he asked without taking his eyes off the TV.

  I gripped the knife as I sliced through an onion. Verónica…a dancer from the corps with slightly more tenure than me. A climber with a distorted idea of her own talent, fueled by her first soloist role as Myrta in Giselle. That made me her understudy, and it was enough to make her feel superior. To me, she was simply a viper, perpetually infused in the otherwise innocent scent of lilies. Since the casting announcement, Verónica had pinned me as a target to terminate. While I took it as a compliment, the image of her whispering venomous comments in Marcos’s ear stung.

  “You listen to that bitch now? I did not get kicked out. Madame was worried about my ankle.” My tone was sharper than I had intended, which I immediately regretted. I looked up to find Marcos watching me. “Sorry,” I said. “That wasn’t meant for you. I just…I totally fucked up today.”

  He sprang from the couch with a graceful move. Taking the knife from my hand, he set it down and pulled me into a hug. I pressed my face against his chest. He smelled heavenly. Anguish clutched my heart.

  “I’m sorry. Anything I can do?”

  “Shit, Marcos. What if I blew my shot at the understudy?”

  “Well…whatever is screwing with your concentration, you need to let it go.”

  I pulled away from him, my throat thickening. His eyes studied me for a moment.

  “What really happened last night?” he said in a low voice.

  “What do you mean?” I looked down, picking up invisible lint from his sleeve.

  “Who’s this guy that brought you home?”

  I glanced up at him. Marcos never missed a beat. I said nothing.

  “Shit, Camila. Stop fucking around. You need to be laser focused right now. Every girl in the corps is after that understudy role. You have it, and you are putting it at risk.”

  “Some ego booster you are.”

  “Is that what you want? For me to boost your ego? Sorry, babe. Not gonna happen. Are you going to tell me, or what? You’re not mixed in any weird shit, are you?”

  “Weird shit? Me?”

  “You wouldn’t be the first.”

  “Seriously. What the hell?”

  “Just checking. I know you feel the pressure. But coke or any of that shit ain’t worth it.”

  “Marcos! For fuck’s sake, I’m not doing coke. Why in the hell would you come up with that? I got no sleep at all last night. I’m not like you guys. And I’m trying not to dwell on it, but that asshole assaulted me! Why are you being such a dick?” Tears of anger welled in my eyes.

  Marcos sighed and pulled me back into his arms.

  “I’ll find him, Cami. I called Nico today and asked him for a list of the bands that played at the Roxy last night. If you know his name, it’ll be easy. We’ll let that fuckhead have it.”

  “No.” I pulled away. “Look, I don’t want you to do anything. Just…leave it.”

  “Why?” He scowled.

  “Because you know Nata. She’ll be all over this and have one of her Russians glued to me. I don’t want that. Besides, the guy who helped me was one of the owners of the Roxy. He took care of that asshole.”

  Marcos frowned, deciding.

  “Seriously, he had a huge bodyguard. And he knew the creep. It’s done.”

  “A fucking bodyguard?” His frown deepened. “Who is this guy, Cams?”

  “Someone who wanted to help, that’s all. Just leave it, okay? Thanks for having my back. Today was…weird. Let’s move on.” I dried my eyes with my
sleeve.

  His jaw tensed in anger. “I shouldn’t have let you leave alone last night. I’m responsible. I’m sorry, babe.” He hugged me again, tighter, and suddenly it all washed through me at once. The night, the attack, the morning, Sebastián, and of course…Marcos and the amazing feeling of being in his arms. I closed my eyes, smothering the tears against his chest, letting him hug me.

  A few silent moments passed, and I forced myself out of his arms. He wiped a stray tear with the pad of his thumb, watching me with concerned eyes.

  “Listen,” he said. “Vronsky knows you’ve got what it takes for this role, even if she’s constantly on you. She may have her doubts, but she respects Federico’s judgment. Stay focused and show her she has no reason to question it. Get a good night’s sleep tonight. You need it. Now stop beating yourself up over this.” He kissed my head and went back to the couch.

  “Beating yourself up over what?” Nata walked in, pulling up her long, wet, copper hair into a messy knot.

  I shrugged and kept my eyes on the chopping board. I could feel her eyeing both of us suspiciously.

  “Is this about today?” she said, sliding onto a barstool. “I heard. I can stay after work tomorrow if you want. We’ll use one of the empty studios and go through the variation for Myrta. There are a few versions on YouTube that are worth watching, and I’ve done it before, I’m sure I can remember.” Working after hours with Nata would be golden. It would help me learn the variation much faster, and as a principal dancer, she could give me lots of inside tips on the acting part. But that meant canceling my date at Chila with Sebastián. Shit.

  “Thanks, but tomorrow I can’t. I have some stuff I need to do after work.” I hustled around with the food, avoiding her eyes. She would know something was up just by looking at me. My conscience kicked me. What the fuck, Camila? I slammed the door on it and forced a smile. “Maybe another night, if you can swing it?”

  “I may have time on Thursday. If anything changes tomorrow, text me. It would be better, I have more time.”