“STOP SQUIRMING. YOU look great.”
I awkwardly try to stretch the dress down my thighs once again, leaning back into the buttery leather seat of the limo to aid my cause. No luck. The elastic fabric snaps right back into place, exposing every bit of my legs, and probably a little bit more at the right angle.
“Did you have to pick out something so skimpy?” I whine. “Jesus H. Christ, my vagina might catch a cold in this frigid night air.”
Niko laughs before topping off a champagne flute with bubbly and handing it to me. “Here. Relax. You look fine. Besides, your vagina is safe with me.”
I choke on the sip caught in my throat and commence to cough up a lung, which is only highlighted by the sounds of Niko’s cackling.
“No!” I rasp, my voice hoarse from nearly being murdered by a gulp of Ace of Spades. “You are forbidden from ever thinking about my vagina, let alone speaking about it. All discussions about my vagina are off the table.”
“You started it,” he shrugs. “I was only being a protective friend.”
“Sure you were,” I reply, settling back in my seat. I take another sip of champagne, and now that it’s not trying to strangle me, it’s actually quite good.
“Seriously,” Niko says, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “My contact has very…lascivious…tastes. To get his attention, you need to look the part. If you show up looking like a nun, there’s no way we’re getting close enough to talk to him.”
“Why can’t you just wave a hand and get us in? Or make him think I’m half naked?” He already changed the color of my eyes, although he said it’d only be temporary. Why can’t he produce the illusion of a scantily clad harlot?
Niko shakes his head, reading my mind. “Where we’re going, the Dark will be everywhere. I’ll be deflecting. And you know I won’t be able to use. Luckily, as far as we know, you’re the only supernatural being on earth that’s undetectable.”
“Oh, joy,” I mutter with false enthusiasm. “Score one for Team Freak.”
Niko huffs out an aggravated breath, and scrubs a hand over his freshly shaven jaw. “Seriously, Gabs. None of that feeling-sorry-for-yourself shit tonight. Try to at least have a little fun.”
“Sorry.” I sink into the seat, feeling like a total Debbie Downer. So what if my life is crumbling at my feet, and I’ve lost just about everyone I love? I’ve got on killer shoes and oddly enough, I’m having a good hair day. Plus, I get to see The Fallen in concert, which has been on my bucket list for years.
The ride to KeyArena is short, even with the ridiculous traffic into Seattle’s entertainment center. Lucky for us, we’ve got a special pass that gets us to the very front so the limo can let us out. The Divine must be a woman, because while these shoes are hot, walking a mile and half from the packed parking lot is not an option.
The opening act is just getting into their set when an usher leads us to a private section of box seats, where it appears we’re the only two patrons. Seconds later, a waitress brings over an ice bucket holding another bottle of Ace of Spades and two glasses.
“Oh, yes. Very inconspicuous,” I smirk, swaying to the music.
“This is more so for safety than anything else,” Niko says, popping the top of the champagne and filling the glasses. “Besides, I thought you’d enjoy the show from here. You seemed really excited to see them.”
“Are you kidding me?” I shout over the pounding bass and guitar riffs. “This is great!” I grab a glass—my second of the evening—and nearly down it in one gulp. There’s no way I’m sitting down, heels be damned.
“Well, like I said, have fun. Real fun. None of that shit you try to put on for the rest of us to make us believe you’re ok.”
“Oh, I will,” I reply, swallowing the last of my drink. “Especially once Denny Nox takes the stage. Holy hell, I may throw my panties at him!” Cringe. Note to self: Champagne makes me slutty.
“Oh, so you’re a Nox fan,” Niko smirks, probably thinking I’m as basic as bitches come. I don’t care. Denny Nox is scrumptious from his coif of blown out hair to his rocker chic clothes. And those eyes? Holy fuck. I may have gotten off on the image of him winking alone.
“I heard he’s gay,” Niko mumbles behind me, folding a leg so his ankle rests on his knee.
“Hater,” I jibe. “You’re just mad that he probably could sleep with any chick he wanted just by opening his mouth. Myself included.” Ok, champagne makes me very slutty.
I hear him snort, but give the stage my attention, getting lost in the vibrant energy of the crowd. By the time the opening band finishes their set and exits the stage, I’m two more glasses of bubbly in and pleasantly tipsy.
I turn to Niko, my face lit up with anticipation. He smiles at my excitement, genuinely happy that I’m happy. Or at least I appear to be. And right now, I can’t tell the difference between what’s real and what’s fake. What’s a manufactured smile and one birthed out of sincerity? Maybe I am happy. Maybe, just maybe, there is life after Dorian.
The house lights dim and the crowd goes completely insane, everyone screaming and cheering for the entrance of The Fallen. I find myself jumping up and down and screaming my head off too, the exhilaration in the room positively infectious. Niko steps up beside me, his eyes glued to the stage. Even he must be a little excited.
The lights come on again, flashing a rhythmic pattern of red, blue, yellow and green lights along with the intro to The Fallen’s latest hit. Hoots and hollers resound throughout the arena, almost as loud as the up-tempo melody. And just when I think it can’t get any more chaotic, Denny Nox and his band mates take the stage.
For the next hour and a half, I lose myself in music, letting it breathe beautiful life into my weary soul. I sing, I dance, I even get a little choked up when Denny belts out a ballad about falling apart, being at the lowest of lows, yet getting back up again, stronger than ever. I deem it my honorary theme song, vowing to do the same. Promising that no matter what may happen next, no matter whom and what Dorian chooses, I won’t let it break me. I will get back up. I will survive. I didn’t come this far to lie down and die of a broken heart.
At the end of the show, my feet are aching, I’m covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and my head is spinning from sharing two more bottles of champagne with Niko. And even though I didn’t sit down once, I feel like I’m flying. I don’t know if I absorbed the electric energy in the room or I’m drunk or what. I just know that I haven’t felt this good, this inspired, in weeks. Maybe even months.
“Come on,” Niko says, holding out my jacket so I can slip my arms through. Even though I’m burning up, I know I’ll be freezing once we hit that cold, damp air.
“Where to now?” Shit. I completely forgot that we’re actually here to work. I grab my black clutch and fish out the compact. I probably look like a hot, sweaty mess right now.
“Backstage. My connection should be meeting us there.”
“Backstage?” A fresh wave of excitement bumrushes my veins. “Do you think we’ll see the band?”
Niko shrugs and gives me a blue-eyed wink. “Probably.”
I slather on a fresh coat of red lipstick and fluff my hair, just before Niko ushers me into the crowd. We weave through hordes of gushing fans, making our way to the door marked for VIPs only. A burly door man that’s easily three times my weight, and probably a former Seahawks hopeful, asks us for our passes. Niko steps up to the much larger man, chest out and eyes trained on his.
“Here you go,” he says, just as two passes instantly appear in his hand. The guard checks them against a paper on a clipboard.
“You’re not on the list,” he gruffs.
“Look again.” It’s not a request.
The guard does as he’s told and is surprised to find our names at the very end. He waves us through, eyes narrowed in confusion.
“Thought you said you couldn’t use,” I whisper as we pass more security.
“Eh. That was nothing. Not even detectable.”
We enter the bustling backstage area, and I see why Niko had me dress the way I did. The room is a smorgasbord of skin, with chicks going as far as trying to pass off a bikini top as a shirt. I roll my eyes at the pure desperation seeping from their pores. Is this what these women aspire to be? Nothing more than potential waste receptacles for a rock star that won’t even remember their name?
“This way,” Niko says, steering me away from the scene of a groupie sucking face with who looks to be nothing more than a roadie. She looks like she would be willing to do even more to get closer to the band.
I let Niko lead me down a hallway littered with a few dozen stragglers. We go straight to the door at the end, which is guarded by another muscle-bound bouncer. Niko waves a hand casually, and the man steps aside without another look in our direction. When he places his hand on the doorknob, I hear it unlock with a click from the other side of the door. When we’re safely inside the dressing room, I turn around to face him, a million questions on my tongue.
“How in the…? Whose dressing room are we in?”
Niko casually strides over to a mini fridge stocked with beer and bottled water. He throws me an ice-cold plastic bottle. “Hydrate,” he says, ignoring my question. “I need you on your game.”
I unscrew the bottle of Voss, but keep my eyes trained on the cryptic Warlock as he eases down onto the plush leather sofa. So this is Niko’s tip. A band mate. At first glance, there are no distinguishing details that would give away exactly who this dressing room belongs to. Sure, there are big, lavish bouquets of flowers, along with trays and baskets of snacks. And of course, there are the amenities: flat screen TV, stereo system, video games, etc. But other than that, the room seems pretty impersonal.
“I don’t know about this, Niko,” I say, looking around. We’re in someone’s private space. Breaking and entering was not on the bucket list. “Does your contact even know we’re here?”
“Nope,” Niko replies, folding his hands behind his head. “But he will soon.”
“And what makes you think we can trust him?”
Niko presses his lips into a tight line, but quickly recovers. “Because he’s the only one I know that hates my father more than me.”
At that exact moment, a melee of unintelligible squawks and screams erupt outside the door. I crouch into a defensive stance, fists tightened, expecting some enraged maniac to come barging in, demanding we reveal our identities. Niko, on the other hand, is completely calm and cool, his hands still pressed to the back of his head and his feet propped onto the table. I can’t tell if it’s a front or if he really is that damn confident. Still, I can’t let my guard down. Not when I don’t know who—and what—is on the other side of that door.
The ruckus grows louder, drawing nearer. I can hear the sounds of gushing fan-girls offering any and everything for just five minutes of whoredom. The booze-filled desperation is so thick that I can nearly taste it, combined with a heady mix of sweat and sex. Holy shit, it’s strong. And it’s getting stronger, so potent that I feel nearly intoxicated. My clothing feels too tight, my skin too hot. I rip off my leather jacket like it’s on fire, panting for relief, but it’s not enough. I claw at my clothes, wishing them off, but I’m still partially aware that Niko is still here, watching me with rapt fascination as I take my heavy breasts in my hands and squeeze them through the thin fabric. It feels good, but I need more. So much more.
Just as my hands slide south, fingers grazing the inside of my fishnet-clad thighs, the door flies open. I’m still touching myself as I gaze upon Denny Nox, flanked by at least half a dozen, half-dressed girls. I want to be one of those girls. At this very moment, I hate them, yet I envy them. So much so that the taste of rage coats my tongue, and I feel my body heat for an entirely different reason.
Denny takes one look at me, panting and disheveled, and Niko, reclining leisurely on the couch, and freezes.
“Get out,” he commands, his head slightly turned towards the girls hanging off him. Each woman whines and groans, damn near begs to stay, but they turn around and leave, the door slamming at their backs.
“What are you doing here?” Denny asks, the malice in his voice making him appear even sexier, causing a fresh wave of desire to hit me like a battering ram. “And who the fuck is she?”
Niko is on his feet in a blur of movement and in front of the equally gorgeous man. He claps him on the shoulder and smiles. “Now is that any way to treat an old friend?”
Denny goes completely still for several seconds before breaking into an easy smile. “Been a long time, Nikolai.” He brings Niko in for a bro hug before turning his attention on me. “And the girl?”
“Ah, yes,” Niko says, waving a hand in my direction as if I’m on display. I’m only acutely aware that my hands are still groping my own body, yet I can’t seem to care. “Denny Nox meet Gabriella Winters. Gabriella meet Daneus Deleazó, front man for The Fallen.”
I look at the two sex gods before me, hearing what Niko has said, but not fully grasping his words. All I can think about is being naked, and what it would feel like to have them naked as well. Imagining the delicious fullness of having them enter me simultaneously, Denny pushing into me from the front, Niko spreading me to take me from the back…
“Um, Denny. Mind turning it off? We’re actually here on business.”
Denny looks sheepish for just a second before flashing me a wink that’s seductive enough to make my thong melt down my legs. I groan. But then he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for just a moment, uttering a word under his breath.
I shudder, feeling like I’ve been sleepwalking for the past five minutes and was just slapped awake. I look down at my hands, one grasping my left breast, the other at the top of my thigh, and lock them behind my back, confused and embarrassed.
What the hell? Was I just touching myself? In front of Niko? And Denny? Holy shit…Denny Nox! Wait. What just happened?
“Sorry, love,” Denny says, walking over to the fridge to grab a beer. “It’s a little jarring at first, but it will wear off.” He has an accent, totally different from the way he talks in interviews on TV.
“What…what did you do to me?” I ask, still trying to collect my bearings. Denny Nox, or Daneus Deleazó or whoever the hell he is, just put some weird sexual juju on me, making me want him like a fiend needing a fix. I turn to him as he takes a long gulp of his brew. “Who, and what, are you?”
Completely ignoring me, Denny turns to Niko. “I think you’ve lost your touch after all these years. Usually your whores are the more seen-and-not-heard type. Just the same. You know I like mine feisty.”
“She’s not a whore,” Niko replies, his voice edged with threat. “And if you call her a whore again, I’ll rip out your tongue and feed it to your mother.”
Denny downs the rest of his beer and pitches the empty bottle in a trashcan. He looks to me then looks at Niko, before shrugging. “Eh. What do I care? She’s quite the whore herself. My apologies.” Those piercing eyes are back on me, raking up and down my frame curiously. “So who are you, Gabriella? And why on earth has my old mate brought you here to me without the promise of a good romp?”
“I asked you first,” I reply, feeling my confidence return.
“That you did. But see, the problem is, he revealed my true name. Which tells me that you already know what I am.” He strides over, practically gliding, and stops just inches from my body. Fingering a lock of hair, he brings it to his nose and inhales. “So now, the question is, what are you?”
Niko is beside me in the same breath, plucking my hair from his fingers and gingerly brushing it behind my ear. Even in this heated moment, I can’t help the sweep of blood warming my cheeks.
“She’s with me,” Niko says, wrapping a protective arm around my waist. “And if I told you what she was, you wouldn’t last until daylight. So consider her elusiveness a favor. And in turn…we need a favor from you.”
“Oh?” Denny crosses his leather cuff-clad arms in front of him, the tattoos on his forearms stretching over tight muscle. Seeing him up close, I feel stupid for not suspecting he was Dark all along. Of course. Regular humans aren’t remotely this sexual and beautiful.
He takes a step back, sizing both Niko and me up. “And what would that be?”
Niko takes a deep breath, and I feel his body tense against my side. “We need a Light Enchanter.”
As expected, Denny bursts into uncontrollable laughter, pressing his black-tipped fingers against his mouth to control his hysterics. “You’re shitting me.”
Niko shakes his head. “Afraid not.”
Denny eases down onto the couch and leans forward, pressing his elbows into the tops of his thighs. “And what makes you think I can make that happen?”
“I know you,” Niko replies, sincerity in his words. “We go way back. If anyone would know how to find one, it’d be you. You know I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t absolutely a matter of life and death.
Denny glances up at me, his wild, blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. “And the girl? How do I know I can trust her? I don’t even know what she is. She could be one of your father’s brain-dead concubines for all I know.”
I look to Niko and nod, hoping to convey my intention. I know he wants to protect me and I love him for that, but I won’t be a liability. I can’t stay hidden forever.
“I’m Gabriella,” I say, stepping forward. “But you may know me as the Dark Light.”
Before my eyes, Denny disappears into a gust of dark smoke before manifesting behind us yards away. He hugs the wall in fear, yet there’s intrigue and excitement in his voice. “Holy shit! What are you doing with her? How did you find her? Who else knows she’s here?”
“Easy, Denny,” Niko says, palms up. “She’s here because she’s a friend. And no one else knows, so you really need to chill out. There are eyes and ears everywhere.”
Denny groans, fisting his dark hair as his eyes dart around the room. “This is fucking ridiculous,” he says. “You bring the number one person on your dad’s most wanted list here, and I’m supposed to supply you with the Light? What makes you even think I’m capable of that? Let alone that stupid?”
“Look, I know we’re asking a lot. But…it’s for D. Stavros reversed him, and he’s completely lost to us.” Niko breaks away from me and goes to stand in front of the other man. “Please, Denny. I know this is completely unheard of and dangerous and insane, but I need you to come through. We can’t let him win. Don’t let him get away with this again. Don’t let Dorian meet the same fate as your father.”
Denny’s eyes soften, going from Niko to me then back to Niko. “You know this is a suicide mission, right?”
“I’m aware of the possibility.”
“And you know there’s no guarantee that the Light would even give you the time of day?”
“I do.”
“And you will owe me for the next century if I get you in.”
“Anything you want.”
An almost giddy smile spreads across Denny’s face. “Alright. Let’s do this.”
WE’RE IN DENNY’S limo, since he insisted we ride with him. He didn’t want to risk us tracking the route to the location—wherever that is. Traffic is heavy due to the concert, so we creep along the rain-slick streets of the Emerald City, which will probably be the only sightseeing I get to do.
“Deleazó,” I say, my eyes still taking in the lights and sights of the city. “What does that mean?”
“Allure,” Denny answers.
I turn my head to look at him, my brow puckered in accusation. “Which is why I felt so…wrong. Like I wanted to tear my clothes off.”
Denny snorts out a chuckle. “Yeah. My apologies. Comes in handy for my career. My kind is known for their influence in entertainment, including those of a sordid nature.”
“But you’re not a royal, right?” Of all the research I had done, I hadn’t heard of Deleazó. It’s not surprising, considering that there could be thousands of Dark breeds.
“No. My family line was created centuries ago with the merging of Órexis and Apatē. Desire and deceit. I’m able to create an illusion of deep sexual need.”
So Órexis and Apatē joined houses to create an entirely new family with unique gifts? Isn’t that what Stavros had hoped to do by forcing Dorian to marry Aurora?
I turn to Niko. “What families have been spawned by Skotos?”
“None,” he deadpans.
“None?”
“None.” Niko leans forward in his seat. The shift causes a shadow to fully cover his face, making his eyes glow electric blue in the darkness. “We’re the last unsullied bloodline. Which is why we’ve ruled for so long,” he adds.
“But if you’ve never crossbred with other houses, isn’t that kinda like…incest?” I cringe, disgusted at the very thought of Dorian or Niko getting down and dirty with their cousin.
Niko shakes his head. “It’s not like that with us. We’re not…human. Our lineage is defined by its purity, not by its diversity. Stavros has been planning for the right moment and the right mix for nearly two centuries.”
“Bullshit,” Denny mutters.
“Is that why you hate the king?” I ask him. “Because he views his bloodline as superior?”
Denny laughs, but the hurt is evident on his face. “I hate Stavros because he’s a narcissistic asshole and a sadist. But I also hate everything the Dark and the Light were created for. They were almost set up to destroy one another, not create harmony. However, I’ll have to express my overall distaste for our great and mighty Divine’s perfect little creations at a later date. We’re here.”
At first glance, The Eagle looks like a neon-lit hole in the wall, surrounded by an array of characters, from twinks to drag queens to muscle-bound men in skin-tight shirts. Yes, Denny has brought us to a gay bar. Morgan will be insanely jealous. She’s like GaGa Jr. when it comes to her gays.
We exit the limo and grab a spot in line. Several guys turn to squeal over Denny’s presence, but once the doorman sees him, he waves us right through. I look around, looking for any sign that we’re among the Light, but Denny quickly ushers us to a dilapidated men’s bathroom with no stalls.
“So…we’re supposed to find what we’re looking for in here?” I ask, trying to avoid stepping on anything sticky.
“No,” Denny says, resting a palm against the damp, tiled wall. “In here.”
A bright flash of hunter green surrounds his hand, and then it’s gone, disappearing inside the wall. Denny takes a step forward, walking into the tile as it swallows him whole. It welcomes Denny’s frame as if he’s entering a wall made of pliant gelatin.
Before his face disappears into the tile, Denny turns to us and says, “Come on.” He holds out his hand, and I take it without reluctance, intrigued by what lies on the other side. I offer my other hand to Niko, who appears much more wary. However, his protest falls on deaf ears, because before he can stop us, Deny is pulling us with him through the wall. It’s cold and solid, yet it’s not, forming around our bodies like slippery cushions. It only lasts a few seconds and we’re on the other side, bathed in dim-lighting and strobe lights. Energy pulses along with the bass-filled music, fueling the hundreds of writhing bodies.
“What is this place?” I gasp, my senses on overload. Niko is right beside me, wearing the same look of awe and confusion.
Denny waves a hand around the vast, warehouse-sized room, pride gleaming in his smile. ““All those who wander are not lost.” Welcome to The Lost and Found, my friends. Home to the Divine’s fallen children.”