Kings of Midnight: Book One of The Midnight Saga

by J Q Anderson

  “They don’t resist it. They dig it. That’s why I’m here listening to your sorry ass. I’ll have more Sonias lined up by tomorrow.” He grinned.

  “It was Cynthia, you arrogant dick. Give me the remote.

  Chapter 17

  I winced at the bleaching morning sunlight that invaded the living room. Through the open balcony door, a breeze ballooned the weightless, white curtains. What time was it? Inside my head, a mallet pounded my skull with painful persistence. I rubbed my eyes through the strands of hair plastered to my cheek. I tested my aching limbs, half-numb after a restless night on the couch, and it wasn’t till then that I realized I wasn’t alone.

  On the opposite end of the couch, Marcos lay unconscious, his chest rising and falling with the peaceful rhythm of his breathing. Our legs were still intertwined, his feet resting against my shoulder. Through the fogginess, the pounding in my head became louder. Thump, thump. Shit, I must not drink again. I must not drink again. I let my eyelids drop. The last thing I remembered was watching The Terminator with Marcos, doing tequila shots whenever a commercial came—which I could swear was every three minutes. Everything after that was black. I secretly prayed I hadn’t done anything stupid like have sex with Marcos, not that he would hold it against me.

  I detangled from him as carefully as I could and stood. The room spun, immediately sending me back onto the couch. I sat with my head in my hands. Thump, thump. A new pain, an arrow, stabbed my head at the nape. Shit, I was still drunk. I must not drink again. Ever. I rose again, slowly, gripping the back of the couch for balance. Marcos stirred but didn’t open his eyes. He looked innocent, younger, his endless eyelashes perfectly fanned over his cheeks. That angel face, I thought, the face of the devil, and I smiled, because he had turned down a fun night to stay here, with me. That’s what friends do, and Marcos was loyal.

  An uninvited image of the fight with Sebastián barged into my mind with another stab to my skull. Regret churned in my gut, but I knew I had made the right decision by holding my ground. Sebastián didn’t understand how things were with Marcos. Our time had already passed, I could’ve explained that to him. We could’ve had a mature conversation about it—but no, he had to go all thermonuclear like a jealous teen. Yeah, like a gangster, Nata’s voice whispered in my head.

  I stumbled to the kitchen and poured a glass of orange juice and downed it in a long swig. The pain in my head echoed. I browsed through the cabinets for something for the hangover and popped two Aleve. On the counter, my phone showed a stream of texts from Nata asking about last night, the tango, Vladimir’s house. I sent her a quick response.

  Amazing. It was just amazing. I’ll tell u everything when u get back.

  She had also sent some photos of her and Teo on a white-sand beach. Selfies of the two of them against the sunset, heads together as they laughed and tried sipping from the same straw in a caipirinha.

  One of us was happy.

  My brain pulsed against my skull. Carefully, I lay back on the couch next to Marcos, pulling a blanket over us. Within minutes the fatigue from the night settled, and I drifted away.

  Soft knocks on my front door woke me. I blinked through the fogginess, at Marcos, but he was sound asleep, clutching the blanket now tightly wrapped around him.

  The knocking on the door returned, louder, more persistent.

  Shit. What time was it?

  I stood without waking Marcos, rubbing the sleep off my eyes, and stumbled to the door.

  “Coming, coming.”

  I unlocked, opened a few inches, and froze. Sebastián stood there, rubbing the back of his neck.

  “Doesn’t look like you had a better night than I did.” He half smiled. Fuck. Fuck!

  “What are you doing here?” Panic rose to my face. Marcos was on the couch behind me. I leaned against the open door, blocking the view.

  “May I come in?” he said in a soft tone.

  “No,” I blurted. His eyebrows raised in surprise. “The place is a mess. Just…give me a second. I’ll meet you downstairs.” I shut the door in his face and leaned back on it, biting my lip hard, my heart pumping against my ribs. Marcos stirred, oblivious, snoring softly.

  I scrambled around for a quick outfit. A T-shirt and yoga pants. I checked myself in the mirror. No. I needed something sexier so Sebastián would regret the fight. I changed into a tight tank top with a scooped neck and very short shorts. There. Swim in regret.

  Outside the foyer, Sebastián waited, straddling the BMW motorcycle. A tousled, raven mess fell over his forehead. He was dressed in faded jeans and a white T-shirt that accentuated his biceps and looked like a modern Brando. Damn him. Damn his good looks. This would all be so much easier if he were just…fugly. I gripped the keys inside my pocket and unlocked the door. He looked intently at me, and it felt like a kick on my chest.

  “What do you want?” I said in a raspy voice. He frowned, a sulky teen. I pressed my lips, protesting my own body’s reaction as much as his presence.

  He dismounted and ran a hand through his hair, letting out a heavy sigh.

  “I’m sorry. I really am. He had…his hands all over you. It made me crazy.” He closed his eyes for a brief moment, shaking his head as if the thought pained him. “When I saw the connection you had with him, I almost lost it. I wanted to jump on that stage and kick his ass.”

  I scowled at him, and he shook his head again.

  “It caught me off guard,” he said. “I’m good at keeping my emotions in check, but since I met you, my control’s been tested in more than one way.”

  I leaned on the wall, crossing my arms and staring down at my sneakers.

  “Say something. Hit me, be mad, yell, whatever. But don’t give up on us. Don’t give up yet.” His voice was low, a soft plea. And I wasn’t above pride; having a strong, powerful man like Sebastián begging at my door was sexy as fuck. I shrugged.

  “I don’t know what to say. Marcos has always been there for me. Through all the hard stuff I went through this year. His friendship means a lot to me, and you don’t turn your back on the people that matter because it makes someone else uncomfortable.” I didn’t look at him. I didn’t want his reaction to make me hold back. I needed him to know I wasn’t backing down.

  He lifted my chin, searching my eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect you to be that close with someone else. To be honest, I want to be the one you connect with that way. The only one. I know that’s selfish, but it’s how I feel about you. Last night, when I saw how happy you were dancing with him, it drove me insane because I want to be the one that makes you feel that way. I couldn’t stand the thought of someone else—”

  “There is no one else. What I feel for you is different. Bigger. Marcos and I…we spend a lot of time together, but it’s never been like it is when I’m with you. Don’t you get it? It would be easier to date him, and yet, here I am.”

  He pulled me into his arms and wrapped me tightly. I squeezed my eyes shut, holding on to my guard. I was standing on thin ice again. I knew that. I took a long breath and his glorious scent invaded me. Shit, not the scent. His arms tightened around me.

  “Crazy girl, what are you doing to me?” He pulled away and leaned his forehead against mine. “I want to be with you.” His hand caressed my face. “I’m sorry I’ve fucked things up. I want you. I want you in my life.”

  I brushed a loose strand of hair away from his eyes, and he took my face in his hands, bringing me to him and covering my mouth with his. He tasted heavenly, of desperation, anguish, and need. Tears welled in my eyes, and I broke away to catch my breath. He wiped the moisture off with his thumbs, pain etching his face.

  “Please baby, don’t cry,” he said. “I’m sorry.” He leaned down and nuzzled my nose, then kissed me again and again, as if trying to erase the sadness. I gripped his shirt at the chest and shook my head.

  “I just…”

  “What is it?” He stroked my cheekbone. “Tell me.”

  “I don’t know how to do thi
s.”

  “Do what?”

  “This. You and me. It’s so…intense. I feel like I’m on a roller coaster. You overwhelm me with attention, you take me to places I’ve never been, you dazzle me with your world of VIP places and people. And you’re sweet. You treat me like I’m special, beautiful, I love that. But on the other side of it, there’s this constant danger that surrounds you… I’m trying to adjust. To you, to this world you exist in, to what people say about your family.” I wiped the tears that spilled. “And I didn’t care about any of it. I really didn’t. But then you storm in on such a special, amazing night for me, and you act like I’m something you bought. And I think…I think maybe I’m just stupid and naïve, and maybe I should listen to everyone’s warnings and—”

  He pulled me into his arms and pressed me against his chest. “Shh. It’s all right.”

  “No, it’s not. I’m a simple girl. This is not simple.”

  “I know.” He kissed my head. “Please don’t cry.” He pulled back gently, his forehead creased with worry. “I know I come with a lot of baggage. I behaved like an asshole yesterday. But we have something good…I don’t want to lose it. I don’t want to lose you.”

  I swallowed a sob.

  “You are a breath of fresh air, Camila. You make me feel that among everything that’s fucked up in the world, there’s hope. And I haven’t felt like that… maybe ever.”

  I bit my bottom lip.

  “I missed your perfect mouth. You looked so beautiful last night. I just wanted to take you home with me,” he said in a soft tone, wrapping me tighter against him.

  “I wanted that too,” I muttered.

  “Let me make it up to you. Let’s get out of here and spend the day in Colonia.”

  I frowned. Colonia is in Uruguay, a whole different country. It’s just across the river but still a good hour and a half away even on the fastest ferry.

  “What about your trip to London?”

  “I cancelled it. This was more important.”

  I nodded, and he searched my eyes. “So Colonia…”

  “That’s…romantic, but by the time we take the ferry, it will be late.”

  “I wasn’t thinking about taking the ferry. My partner, Julián, has a small jet in Jorge Newbery. I already made arrangements.”

  “You made arrangements. So you assumed I would say yes? That’s presumptuous.”

  “You can say no. But if you do—”

  “If I do, what? You’ll just accept it and you’ll go?”

  “I’ll accept it, yes, I’ll go. With a broken heart,” he said with a lopsided smile, bringing his hand to his chest. I nodded, focusing on my sneakers to escape those eyes. Bastard. He took my hands and wrapped my arms around his waist.

  “Come on. Let’s start again. One more time.”

  In my apartment, I quickly changed into a summer dress and a denim jacket while Sebastián waited downstairs—no need to give him a visual of Marcos lying on the couch in his boxers. I left a note saying I would be late, and kissed him on the forehead while he slept. He looked edible, sandy blonde hair ruffled up.

  At the local airport, Rafa waited by a small private jet. He nodded curtly.

  “Camila.”

  “Hi, Rafa.” I smiled.

  The pilot shook Sebastián’s hand. After they exchanged a brief greeting, we took our seats and he closed the latch. Anticipation pooled in my stomach. Inside the main cabin, everything was cream leather and light wood. It smelled of luxury. The engines roared to life and I squeezed Sebastián’s hand. Within minutes the aircraft charged along the runway and took off into the midday sky. Down below, the Rio de la Plata stretched into a canvas of caramel and gold. Sebastián smiled down at me, serene, content.

  My head was a tangle of contradicting thoughts. I knew I was walking into unknown territory with him. But at the same time, I didn’t want to let go. Something told me that underneath that possessive shell was an amazing man with a big heart, and I wanted to get to know that man. The stubborn side of me wanted to know where it would lead.

  Less than an hour later, we landed in a small airport in Colonia. At the end of the short runway, a driver waited in a black Land Rover SUV. He welcomed us, and Sebastián gave him directions to a restaurant by the water. We cruised through the cobble stone streets of Colonia while the historic town dozed under the afternoon sun. It had always been one of my favorite places to visit. Nostalgic, romantic, it was completely unaffected by time or progress. In the streets, the air was dead quiet, announcing it was time for the siestas. An autumn breeze stirred the neat piles of dry leaves bordering the curbs. A dog’s barking echoed in the distance like a cough.

  In the heart of the town, the picturesque colonial houses stood side by side in a collage of terra-cottas and golds. Street lanterns from a previous century lined the sidewalks. Grandfather oaks on both sides of the narrow streets interlaced their foliage overhead, shaking to the wind like tapping rain.

  The small restaurant sat by the old lighthouse. It was magical, just a handful of tables arranged on the sidewalk. An old man with creased, leathery skin greeted Sebastián with a firm handshake, patting his back enthusiastically.

  “Bienvenido, Sebastián. It’s been a while. Good to see you around these parts. Where’s that old crab Marcél this time?” His eyes paused on me. “And who is this beautiful creature?”

  “It’s good to see you, Roberto.” Sebastián grinned. “Marcél is at home today, keeping the boat afloat. This is my girlfriend, Camila.”

  Girlfriend? I blushed scarlet as Roberto assessed me with an approving smile.

  “Wonderful to meet you, gorgeous. First girlfriend this one brings around, and by the looks of you, it was well worth the wait.” He winked. He handed us a one-page menu before walking away, then returned shortly after with a basket of homemade bread and a pitcher of sangría.

  “On the house.” He smiled warmly.

  We had a long lunch by the water, and in many ways, this was like a first date, a new start. Sebastián asked me a million questions about ballet, about my family and life at the theater, deftly avoiding Marcos. He seemed genuinely interested in every detail of my monotonous life.

  When we were finished, the driver dropped us off at a small bike shop. We rented a Vespa and set off to explore the streets of the small town. The day was warm, the air saturated with the aroma of fresh baked bread from the bakeries rounding the main square. I squeezed my arms around Sebastián’s waist and pressed my face to his back, taking it all in. He smelled of fresh laundry and that musky scent I was now addicted to. The breeze lashed my hair around, and I grinned, free.

  “Can we stop at that bakery?” I shouted through the buzz of the engine. He lowered the speed and pulled over by the little shop.

  A heavyset man smiled benevolently as he unlocked the door to let us in.

  “Oh my God, they have vanilla cupcakes. Look.” I pointed, biting my lip in resignation.

  Sebastián raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “I’ve never seen you this excited about food.”

  “A good vanilla cupcake is not just food. You’ll see.”

  Armed with two vanilla cupcakes, we sat side by side on the curb. I forgot about the world as I savored every morsel of the most delicious of treats. The frosting was still soft, and as I slowly licked it, it melted against my tongue. Sebastián wiped a crumb off my chin with his thumb, smiling appreciatively.

  “If I’d known this is all it took to make you eat…”

  I smiled, liking the tip of my finger.

  “So…you introduced me to Roberto as your girlfriend.”

  He turned his head to look at me, and a corner of his mouth pulled up. “Was that too presumptuous?”

  I shrugged, looking down at my sneakers. “No…I liked it.” I glanced up at him and his eyes narrowed slightly.

  “It was presumptuous. I should have asked you first…Camila, do you want to be my girlfriend?” His expression was serious. A flash of apprehension crossed his
eyes and it was…oh, so endearing. My heart melted a little more. I leaned closer, swimming in the intensity of those pale eyes. They were now a mix of silver and blue. Closing the distance, I kissed him. His lips were soft, warm and…damn, they tasted like vanilla and sugar. I reached one hand up and threaded my fingers in his hair, bringing him closer. His arm wrapped around my back, his mouth matching the intensity of mine.

  “You play dirty,” I said once our lips finally separated. He arched an inquisitive eyebrow. “You taste like vanilla frosting. Right now, you could ask me for anything, and I would say yes.”

  “Anything, eh?” He grinned playfully. Taking my hand, he stood and pulled me up with him, then tugged on my arm so I was pressed against his body. His arms wrapped around my back. “I know I can be a fucking pill. My world is very different from yours, and at times it can be daunting. But since I met you, I’ve started thinking of what I really want. And I want you in my life, Camila. I know it’s selfish, you have so much more to offer me than I can offer you. But I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Only you.”

  My heart was thumping. A swarm of feelings I didn’t know or fully understand whirled forcefully inside me. I could have said those exact words to him. How could he think I was the one who could offer more? I blinked, holding his gaze, words failing me. Then I clasped his face in my hands, bringing his mouth to mine, and poured all my feelings into the kiss.

  We mounted the bike and headed toward the beach. Along the streets, people emerged from their siestas and sat on midget chairs outside their front doors, sipping on shared mates and watching the afternoon sun slowly retreat behind the trees.

  We parked the Vespa by an old shack on the beach and walked along the shore. Sebastián wrapped his arm around me and kissed my hair.