Briarcliff

by Lorraine Beaumont

  Alistair turned slowly, his black eyes amused. “Well I wasn’t, but I can,” he assured her.

  Heather gaped in shock. Not from his words though. No, not that. He was, without a doubt, the hottest guy she had seen…ever. She immediately regretted being snide with him. “Ha! I was so kidding. Take another if you like.” She lifted her hand towards the igloo.

  “Oh, I will,” he assured her and filled another cup.

  Heather reached up and smoothed her hand over her hair. “So,” she said a little breathily. “Where are you from?”

  He lifted his brow. “From?” he asked.

  “Yeah…” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Are you with one of the bands?”

  “No.”

  “Are you here alone?” she asked hopefully.

  “Not really.”

  This wasn’t working out the way she’d hoped. She adjusted her stance and pressed her shoulders back. “Okay.”

  “Okay, what?” His lips twitched. Human girls were a friendly lot. She was the third girl who had attempted to talk with him tonight. The problem was he didn’t really have anything to say to them.

  “Oh, nothing,” she said and frowned at the ground. Normally, she didn’t have to worry about making small talk. Most boys were usually eager to talk with her.

  “Shoot!” Colton was headed towards me. Ducking around a group of guys who were standing off to the side, I tried to get closer to the guy at the front of the line. “Sorry. Excuse me.” I shoved forward through another group of people who acted like their damn feet were concreted to the ground.

  “No problem,” one said and his hand skimmed over my bottom.

  “Hey, stop that.” I pushed through the group.

  They laughed.

  “Jerks!”

  Now on the other side, I stood on my toes and tried to find the guy again but the whole area was cast in shadows and I couldn’t see.

  “Dangit.” Not only was Kingston skimpy on the toilets, he was also a cheapo when it came to the lights. The only ones lit were directed solely on the stage and the booze table. Not to be deterred, I cut back across the grass. By the time I made it back to the other side of the table my shoes were soaking wet.

  A half-naked guy climbed out of the bushes and I veered to my left to avoid colliding with him. I could swear he was the guy who called me ‘dove’ earlier. I did a double take, but he was gone.

  ‡

  Simon climbed out of the bushes and yanked the t-shirt over his head. It was too tight but that didn’t matter. The material was nice. He looked down at his feet. The bright red color of the shoes made him smile. He took a step forward and stopped. He looked over his shoulder. A barefoot protruded from under the bush he just climbed out from. Whistling, he backed up and kicked the foot back under the bush. “That should do it.” He smiled and dashed off into the crowd.

  29-INDULGENCE

  “So,” Heather said as she dragged her eyes up from his broad chest. “What’s your name?” She took a delicate sip of her drink.

  “Alistair.” He cocked his brow.

  “Alistair,” Heather repeated, feeling the distinct name tumble off her tongue. “Are you Greek?” she asked, trying to sound coy. She batted her mascara-coated lashes, fully expecting him to be “hooked” on her line…

  He didn’t answer.

  She looked up at his face. He wasn’t even looking at her. Instead, he was looking intently at someone else. She followed his line of vision. He was watching Evie dash off through the crowd. “Great!”

  “Sorry,” he said. “Did you say something?”

  “No.” She pouted and stared at the ground. She waited a beat for him to ask her what was wrong, like boys usually did when she acted like this.

  Alistair shrugged his shoulders and walked away.

  Heather looked back up. He was gone. “Gawd, I hate her.” She grabbed a cup, filled it to the brim, and walked away, ruminating. First, that slut Moriah snatched her boyfriend and now, the first guy she had been remotely interested in was checking out stupid Evie. She wanted to scream. All she ever heard was how sweet and cool Evie was, and how hot whore-face Moriah was. They were little better than trash in her book. They didn’t even have money. Evie dressed like a moron with her thrift-shop clothes and cheap jewelry. Heather knew if it weren’t for Evie’s dumbass introducing Kingston to Moriah, she’d probably still be dating him and not that slut, Moriah. At least that’s what she wanted to believe.

  Not that it mattered anymore, anyway. Kingston was an ass too—seriously. She had always thought Kingston was the one and only for her…but now…she didn’t even know. Heather let out a sigh. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. She was super attractive and rich—a winning combination. What more could a guy ask for? This time, when she broke into her full pout mode, it was for real. She took another drink.

  “Hey, you.”

  Heather’s heart fluttered. He came back. Take that Evie, she wanted to shout. But when she turned around, it wasn’t Alistair. It was some short guy with a nose ring.

  Her lip curled in displeasure. “What do you want?” she snapped.

  “Ah…” he frowned. “Can you move?”

  “What for?”

  “You’re blocking the keg.”

  She looked over her shoulder and then back to him. “Go around.”

  “I would but your ass is too big.”

  Heather blinked stupidly and then finally found her voice. “Asshole.”

  “Bitch.”

  Heather stormed past. She suddenly felt like crying. “Why me?” she whined and sniffed back the tears that threatened to spill.

  The guy appeared at her side with a full cup of beer. “Maybe because you’re acting like a bitch,” he said as he passed.

  “Screw you,” she yelled.

  “Not in this lifetime.” He flipped her off and walked away.

  Heather’s mouth opened and closed. She guessed she deserved that. She smoothed her hand over her hair and jerked on her jacket. “Who needs stupid boys anyway?” She guzzled her drink and went back to get another.

  Alistair searched the crowd for Simon. “Damn, where did he go?” He raked his hand through his hair and turned back to the drink station. The girl who had been talking to him earlier was standing alone.

  Her audible sighs got even louder the longer he stood there watching her. He leaned forward so he could see her face and was surprised by what he saw. Before she had seemed so confident but now there was something vulnerable and achingly familiar in her demeanor, which gave him pause.

  Memories stirred in his mind of another shy girl from long ago. He leaned back and finished off his drink. The contents made him warm in places that had long since gone cold.

  A play of emotions crossed her face. He could almost hear her thoughts—almost. He couldn’t read minds but he could certainly read expressions; it was a knack he had from long ago. A special trait he held onto from his past life that he carried over to his present one.

  The one where he was part flesh and blood, part Gargoyle, he was a Centurion, a little of both not enough of either. Stuck in between worlds, human and otherworldly, and he hated every moment…but lately, as each new phase of the moon brought him back, he noticed something. He was getting stronger, able to stay human for longer periods. Memories, once buried deep, were also coming back. Not all of them, but they were more vibrant and tangible than they had been in the past. Something had changed. He didn’t know what, but he felt different. He tested his strength on Adriane and was pleased to see he was getting weaker, or else he himself was stronger. He had a different kind of connection to Adriane. They were the same, but different too. It didn’t matter what it was. It simply wasn’t fair. And Alistair planned to do something about that.

  A mixed group of people stumbled past him and gathered at his side to refill their drinks.

  The girl was still staring down at the ground, not paying any attention to the people brushing past her. Her long dark hai
r had fallen forward in a thick wavy curtain. Glancing at the ground, he wondered what could be so interesting. All he saw was smashed grass, dirt and a few rocks. Walking forward, he ducked down. “You okay?” he asked.

  Heather jerked her head up. Once she saw him she immediately felt better. “Yeah, I was just…ah…” She shook her head.

  “Yes?” he prompted.

  Heather shook her head.

  “Why are you staring at the ground?”

  “Um…” She chewed on her lip about to dump out one of her staple lines but changed her mind. “Because you left me,” she answered honestly.

  “That’s why you keep staring at the ground?” His brow hitched up a notch.

  “It would seem so.”

  Alistair chuckled lightly. “Why would me leaving make you do that? You don’t even know me.”

  Heather huffed out a long slow breath. “Good question.” She contemplated her answer for a moment. “I guess…ah…I wanted to talk with you some more.”

  “You wanted to talk with me more?” He pointed to his chest.

  “Yes.” She gave him an unabashed smile.

  Catching her look, Alistair felt something stir deep inside and his heart stuttered. It was long enough. He grasped onto the feeling before it slipped away, his body trembled slightly from the force of the recollection. Glimmers of another girl danced through his mind, traces of her face, her long brown hair, but it only lasted for a moment before the inevitable pain speared into his chest. He inhaled sharply.

  “You okay,” she asked, her fingers caressed his bare arm, a mask of concern on her pretty face. “You look…lost,” she said.

  A bitter laugh escaped at the irony. He was lost. His emotions bubbled to the surface and threatened to consume him. He felt like he was drowning…until one distinct emotion overrode the rest…anger. He shook from it…fighting. He was on the verge of turning into a volatile force that may explode at any given moment….

  The girl stepped forward, her cool fingers still pressed firmly against his arm. He looked down. Her fingers soft…gentle. The anger that had been so intense moments before slowly slipped away and turned into something else…

  He didn’t think.

  Reaching out, he grabbed the girl in front of him, to divert his energy, to feed his lust, to feed his human self. Roughly, he pulled her pliable body against the length of his own and took what he so desperately wanted. What he longed for. Pressing his lips against hers, he delved his tongue into her open mouth and kissed her deeply.

  Tightening her hold, she moaned into his mouth. The action spurred something deep inside. He welcomed it. It was exactly what he needed right now. His hand traveled freely up the length of her body. He could feel her eagerness…her need…he slid his hand lower and massaged the soft curve of her through her tight-fitting jeans. She was not the one he wanted, really…but right now, he didn’t care. He wanted to be inside of her so badly he hurt with it.

  30-HAUNTED

  Adriane’s mind came back to the present. His eyes refocused on the here and now. Not the past. He looked down at the girls pressed up against him and pulled his arms away and shook them loose. It took some doing, but they finally relinquished their hold. He stepped away from them.

  “Where are you going?” they whined.

  Feeling confused, he scrubbed his hands over his face. “Sorry. I must ah…” He saw two girls stumble out of the tree line. “Use the bathroom,” he said, not able to think of anything better.

  “Oh we can take you,” they said and made a grab for him once more.

  “No!” he yelled, and then softened his voice, “I mean, it’s best if I go by myself. I will be back soon though.” They gave him a look of disbelief. “Promise,” he added.

  They looked at one another, and then back to him expectantly. “You promise?” they repeated.

  “Sure,” he lied. He had no intention of returning. Truth was he would have said anything to get away from them. They were setting his nerves on edge. He guessed they were innocent enough, at least he hoped they were. It would not be the first time he had been taken in by seemingly innocent creatures. Turning towards the wind, he lifted his chin. The breeze whispered across his face, and brought thoughts of another to the forefront of his mind. Not what he remembered from the past, no, this was of the one he had met the night before, the one that made him forget.

  ‡

  Moriah pulled her legs up and stared despondently at the ground as another band hit the stage. It was Love Darling. Perfect. Her chest tightened, and she let out a shaky breath. Her lip started to quiver as they began to play Hazy. Love Darling was one of the bands Kingston had gotten to show because she loved their music so much. A lot of good it did when he was nowhere in sight. Her sadness quickly turned to anger. His head was probably still crammed up Heather’s ass.

  “Well aren’t you a pretty one.”

  Startled, Moriah looked up.

  “A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be sad.” His brows creased.

  “Who said I was sad?” Oh great—she must look really pathetic if a complete stranger could tell she was upset.

  “May I?” he asked and pointed to the empty space beside her.

  “Sure, it’s a free country.” She could care less.

  He laughed lightly, the sound deep, warm, almost melodic.

  Moriah turned towards him. His dark eyes glittered and she shivered lightly.

  “I am Simon, by the way—you know, in case you were wondering.” He gave her a lopsided grin.

  “Moriah,” she offered her name freely. Was he drunk? She had to wonder. Or was he just one of those crazy, happy people. He kept smiling. He looked like he was biting back a laugh. Maybe he was doing some kind of drug. Yeah, maybe he was stoned. Stoners thought everything was funny. Still, she smiled back at him, not able to help herself.

  “Party not to your liking?” he asked.

  “No, it’s not that,” she sighed. “The party’s great…”

  “It’s great?” His brows rose.

  “Well, it would be, if my boyfriend wasn’t such a jerk.” She made a face.

  “Come again?” He lifted his hand to his ear.

  “It’s not important.” She leaned forward and propped her chin on her hand.

  “Okay,” he said. “But if you want to talk…you got two good ears sitting right next to you…just saying.”

  Moriah turned, ready to say thanks but no thanks, but once she looked at him…really looked at him, she kind of forgot what she wanted to say. He was leaning back against the stair. His exceedingly tight black t-shirt clung to his muscled torso and tucked-in the front of black skinny jeans. He wore a Batman seat-belt belt. Her gaze drifted down to his feet. His bright red Chuck Taylors, they were real show-stoppers. Maybe he was gay…she was good with gay. Maybe she should use him to make Kingston jealous with no repercussions. Kingston would see her with him and get his ass away from Heather. She smiled warmly at him, her mind spinning variables.

  Simon leaned forward, put his chin in his hand, and looked absently out into the crowd.

  Moriah stole glimpses at him even though she pretended not to. He had angular features, long dark lashes, flawless skin, and nice lips too. He looked like a model, or he could be with skin that nice. Her skin only looked that good with makeup. His was perfect. Maybe he was a model. “Are you…”

  He lifted his arms and stretched. She forgot what she was going to say. A tattoo was on the inside of his left arm that looked …

  “So, dove,” he said, dropping his arms. “You want to tell me why you’re sitting all alone?”

  Moriah gaped at him. “Did you just call me ‘dove’?”

  “Is that all right?” he asked and a ready smile pulled the corners of his mouth upward.

  “Um, yeah,” she flustered. Dove? Seriously? Kingston had never called her anything close to that and she was sleeping with his ass. She smiled openly at him, not able to help herself, suddenly hoping he wasn’t gay after all.r />
  “Why not indeed,” he said. He turned quickly and pushed a leggy brunette upright.

  “Whoa,” said the girl. She looked down at Simon and smiled appreciatively. “Thanks handsome.” Her gaze flicked to Moriah and she gave her an inquisitive stare and then looked back to Simon. “You get tired of her,” she stressed the word ‘her’. “You come see me. I’m April, as in showers,” she laughed throatily.

  “Showers…” he repeated.

  “Yeah,” she said in a sultry tone. “As in, I’d be more than happy to shower you with some good, hot-love…I go all night.” She reached down, squeezed his muscled arm, and gave him a wink for good measure. “Don’t forget,” she said.

  “I won’t,” he promised.

  She squeezed his arm one more time, then ran back up the stairs and disappeared inside the mansion.

  A surge of jealously shot through Moriah and she tensed. She shook her head, not understanding why. What did she care? She didn’t even know him. Adjusting on the stair, she turned more fully toward him and cleared her throat.

  He didn’t seem to notice.

  She tried again. “You smell nice,” she blurted, and then bit her lip. What was she doing? She sounded like an idiot.

  He gave her a sidelong glance. “Thank you,” he said, and then promptly looked back into the crowd.

  Moriah gaped at him. She thought he would say something to her, like she smelled nice too, or she was something—anything, but he didn’t. Her stomach flipped-flopped. “So,” she said. “Are you from around here?”

  He turned and her heart jumped into double-time.

  “I guess you could say that.” His lips twitched.

  “Oh—kay,” she said slowly. She rubbed her legs. “Are you having fun?”

  “Now I am.” His brow lifted.

  She gulped.

  “Is there something you want…dove?” he asked, and slowly raked his eyes down her shapely body, then brought them back to her face.