by S. L. Stacy
I lean into the table. “Excuse me?” I say to her mane of red hair, her wild curls not unlike my own. Something brushes up against my thigh. I yelp and pull back, looking down. My face warms when I see the gold fringe hanging from the purple tablecloth.
“Excuse me?” I try again. “Do you have any objects that…that open portals?” Now that I’ve said it out loud, it sounds like a dumb request. But there are three rocks sitting in a bag in Farrah’s closest that, with the right words, can open a portal from Earth to Olympus. Before I do anything, I need to get my hands on such an item or items. Then I’ll worry about how the heck to use it and maybe finding someone to help me.
The woman’s head perks up. She turns around slowly, greeting me with a cunning smile and two eyes that are just the whites and tiny red capillaries—no pupils, no irises. I take a small step back. “You won’t find anything like that around here.” Her head tilts to one side as she studies me with those blank eyes. “But I do have a nice potion for spurned lovers.” Without looking down, she sweeps her hand back and forth in the air above the table, fingers wriggling. She finally plucks a glass bottle filled with a glowing pink liquid and thrusts it toward me. “Nectar from the starflower. A few drops of this in Alec’s drink, and he’ll fall in love with the first thing he sees.”
The way she drags out the word thing pricks the hairs on the back of my neck. “Um, no, thanks. Thanks for your help.” I dive back into the crowd before she can get another word in.
I push forward, trying to escape the scents, noises and congestion, but the stream of people is endless and in constant, disorienting motion. Unable to find an end to the mob, I pause, clutching the sides of my head. Everything and everyone around me has reduced to blurry streaks of color. I stumble up to the nearest booth and brace myself on it, gasping for breath.
“You’re a pretty thing.”
I jerk my head up at the sound of the garbled voice, belonging to a man I hadn’t even noticed on the other side of the counter. He gives me what I think is supposed to be a friendly smile. With most of his teeth missing, it ends up just looking grotesque.
I unwind myself from the table. “You wouldn’t happen to have any objects that open portals—would you?”
The grin widens, revealing more pink gum. “A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be out this late, all alone, in a place like this.”
I back away from the booth. “I guess you’re not going to help me, either—”
“No one here will help you.”
At the same time I hear the other voice—a clear, calm, rational voice—I collide with someone behind me. Two cold hands grasp my arms to steady me, preventing both of us from falling to the ground.
“Sorry!” I cry, spinning around.
The young man gives a quiet chuckle. “That’s quite alright.” His green eyes lock onto mine, wary but curious. He has short, black hair slicked back from a pale, narrow face. He lifts his shoulders slightly as if to hide behind the popped collar of his brown leather jacket. We silently contemplate each other for a few minutes as the marketplace revolves around us like a whirling carousel. I see its movement in the peripheral of my vision, but it’s completely lost to me now. All I see is him, this dark, solemn stranger.
“No one here can give you the kind of object you seek,” he finally says, breaking the trance. “There are very few objects that open portals—and there certainly aren’t any in these parts.” His tone is low, devoid of feeling yet somehow soothing. The once overwhelming cacophony of voices is now a low background hum. All I hear is him. “But even if there were, no one would help you. Word that the sacrifice has been honored has spread quickly. Everyone knows you belong to the prince. No one would dare defy him.”
“Well, that’s just great.” I throw my arms up in the air. “What the fudge am I supposed to do now?”
His eyes flick up and down my body. He’s slightly taller than me, but not overly tall for a guy. “Where are you trying to go?”
“Home.”
“He’s not going to let you do that.”
“He said he would if I win his stupid game…” I sigh, shaking my head in frustration. “I was trying to get back my own way, but obviously that’s not going to work. I guess I have to play along.”
“Maybe I can help.”
I raise my eyebrows. “You just said no one here would help me. You can’t be any different.”
“It’s true—I don’t have an object that could open a portal for you. But I know this place like the back of my hand. I can be your guide if you like. For as long as you need one.” He offers me his arm. I just stare at it.
“I don’t know if I can trust you.”
“You don’t have many other options.”
That’s not exactly true. I can keep going, by myself, without any clear idea of my next destination or what waits for me beyond the city limits. Even these unknowns usually wouldn’t be enough to make me accept help from a complete stranger—especially a dark, mysterious one.
I look at his arm again, then up at his face. His eyes are patient as they wait for me to decide. There’s just something about him…my heart isn’t pounding like it normally does when I meet new people. Especially new guys. Something about him makes me feel safe. I don’t think he wants to hurt me.
But if it turns out his intentions are anything but noble—well, he isn’t that much bigger than me. I’ll just kick him where it hurts and run.
I slip my arm through his, and together we plunge back into the commotion.
Chapter 15
He kisses me.
And I am lost.
Primal instinct overcomes me again. Everything is hot breath, scorching skin and writhing limbs. The sounds of the dance below fade to nothing. Jasper and I are ensconced in our own pocket of jungle heat, transported back to a long-forgotten world of open, empty spaces and sweltering, starry nights. We consume each other like we’re the first man and woman to discover the endlessly smoldering ember of desire.
Without breaking our kisses, Jasper slips his mask over his head and throws it to the ground, then does the same with mine. The hem of my dress rides up, the feathers tickling my thigh, as I wrap one of my legs around Jasper’s torso, reeling him in even closer. His erection rocks against my pelvic bone, throbbing with desperate need. Tender yet determined fingers skim up my thigh and snake past my underwear. They dip into the wetness there. Jasper growls deep in his throat. His lips move across my cheek and down my neck.
“We should…probably…take this somewhere…else,” I gasp as his thumb begins to massage my bud with painstaking thoroughness.
I feel Jasper’s breath on my ear. “Don’t worry. No one can see us back here.” His hand pauses only to tug my panties down over my hips. They fall to the floor. “I have been languishing in an Olympian prison for almost a year. I need to fuck you. Now.”
In one fluid motion, he unzips his pants then picks up my other leg and hooks it around his waist. Hands firmly cradling my hips, he slams inside me, unapologetically hard and forceful. With every thrust, the grooves in the column grind against my spine, but I barely notice the pain above the intoxicating pleasure building up inside of me, a bloated star ready to explode through my taut, burning skin. As it bursts, I cry out. Jasper crushes my mouth with his own to stifle my moans of ecstasy.
When we both find our release, Jasper carefully unwinds me and lowers my feet to the floor. Sounds start to filter through my post-orgasm haze. The faint strumming of an acoustic guitar. Clinking glasses. Giddy laughter. I emerge from my primeval dream to a dark, deserted hotel corridor. My back is sore. Feathers from my dress curl limply on the maroon carpet, scattered in a black ring around our feet. Jasper towers over me, blinking as if watching me through a fog. Then he pulls me into his arms again and starts to sway to the hollow music drifting up from the ballroom.
I don’t know what else to do except lay my head on his chest and let him rock me. We have lapsed into a silence that gnaws at my ears. My face is
numb with unshed tears, my heart aching to rip through my skin like my orgasm did only moments ago. His embrace is strong yet tender, his nearness familiar yet alien. I truly never thought I’d see him again.
“You’re disappointed,” he whispers into my hair. I hadn’t realized I’d spoken out loud. Or maybe I didn’t.
“No,” I say, lifting my head to look into his face. “Just…surprised. And a little confused. I—”
Jasper presses a fingertip to my lips. “Questions tomorrow. Just let me hold you.”
I nod and bury my head into his shoulder.
The slow song ends, the pace of the music picking up again. I wriggle out of Jasper’s arms, and we both take a few steps back, looking everywhere except at each other. A sudden chill in the air raises the hairs on my arms. I hug myself tightly.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jasper dip his hand into his pocket, emerging with a plastic key card. “I got a room here for the night. You’re welcome to join me.”
I shake my head. “I can’t. My sisters are waiting for me.”
“Well, it’s Room 281. If you change your mind.”
I hear Jasper’s clipped footsteps walking away. I keep my eyes on the ballroom, only looking up once the footsteps have faded and I know he’s gone.
Downstairs, the music sounds louder than it did before, the frenzied notes rattling around inside my chest as I walk toward the ballroom. I pause in the doorway, blinking against the darkness before I pick my way through the mass of jumping, convulsing bodies. As I get closer to the stage, Jimmy screams something into the microphone, a sheen of sweat on his brow and bare chest. His suit jacket, shirt and tie lay in a crumpled heap on the floor.
Jimmy’s eyes sweep the wild crowd, coming to rest on me. He must sense my disapproving stare because he cringes, giving me a helpless shrug. A girl clinging to the edge of the stage throws something red in Jimmy’s direction. A bra lands neatly around Jimmy’s neck like a lacey, scarlet snake. Cheeks coloring, Jimmy removes the bra and tosses it back into the crowd.
“There you are.” I jump as Tanya comes up beside me. “Where did you go?”
“Outside. I just needed some fresh air,” I say.
Tanya looks me up and down. “And a quickie? Relax, I’m just kidding,” she adds when I just stand there with my mouth hanging open, speechless.
I comb my fingers through my tangled hair. “The dance seems to have dissolved into anarchy while I was gone.”
“Something needed to happen. It was getting boring. Come on. Victoria and the pledges are waiting for us.” She turns and elbows her way through the crowd, taking for granted that I’m right behind her. I hesitate, eyes darting indecisively between the back of her bleached blonde head and the balcony. I snag my clutch from the table, relieved to find that my cell phone and wallet are still tucked safely inside it, and take off in the opposite direction.
Up on the second floor, I stop outside Room 281. I rap softly on the door.
“Jasper? It’s me—”
The door swings open. Jasper picks me up and carries me inside. Letting the door bang closed, he lays me down on the king-sized bed, stretches out on top of me and begins another slow, torturous assault on my senses.
***
I don’t know what wakes me up the next morning.
It couldn’t have been sunlight: The light peeking between the blue drapes is cold and gray. I throw the sterile white sheets and the earth toned quilt off of me and sit up in the bed. That stale, chemical smell all hotel rooms have fills my nostrils. The hotel’s digital clock says it’s a little after seven in the morning. I grab my phone off the nightstand and scroll through a stream of angry text messages from Victoria without really reading any of them.
“You’re awake,” says Jasper. I look up to find him standing in the doorway to the bathroom, naked except for the towel wrapped around his waist. The towel bulges outward around the groin area. You’d never guess he was “languishing” in an Olympian prison for a year. The planes of his muscles look like they could be molded from flesh-colored steel. His complexion has a ghostly pallor to it, but then again, he’s always pale. Only in Psyche’s memories does his skin glimmer a faint gold. His midnight blue eyes are clear but distant when they meet mine.
“Good morning,” I mumble, pulling the sheet back up to my chest.
Jasper smirks. “It’s a little late for modesty. I know what’s under that sheet probably better than you do. Or do you need a refresher?”
A dull ache blossoms between my eyes. I put my head in my hands. “It’s a little early for…whatever this is.”
“This is me, coming back to my senses. This was a mistake.”
My head shoots back up. “If anyone should regret last night, it’s me.”
Jasper chuckles and runs a hand through his careless dark hair. “That’s funny. I don’t remember texting you for help and sending you straight into a trap.”
“They set me up. Used me to get to you. Apate tricked me into thinking I was in trouble.”
“Apate?” Jasper scoffs. “She wouldn’t help them.”
“Right, because her loyalty is so unwavering. I don’t know why I’m even trying to explain this to you. You’re never going to believe me.”
“You’re right. I’m not. Don’t forget it.”
I take my thumbs and massage my temples. The pain has spread across my forehead. I still feel tired and even a little nauseous. I just need to get out of here. Go home and crawl under the warm sheets of my own bed. There’s no use wasting another second of my time here trying to convince him they played me, too. I could open my mind to him completely, beg him to thoroughly sift through all of the clutter there—the memories, the dreams, the secrets, the structures and properties of all of the amino acids I had to memorize for biochem—and he’d still say he didn’t believe me.
The memories.
I peer at him through my fingers. Although he spoke with such finality, he lingers in the doorway, arms crossed. It would be so easy to tell him that I got Psyche’s memories back. I get so far as opening my mouth and letting out a hoarse croak. Then I quickly close it again.
It doesn’t matter. He probably wouldn’t believe that, either—and I’m not sure I ever want him to know, anyway. I’m done. He can’t dance with me one moment, holding me so lovingly in his arms, only to accuse me of betrayal the next. Closing my eyes, I search for the shield. Ah, there it is. Pulsing in the furthest corners of my mind like a parasite lying dormant. Observing. Waiting. I call it forth and let it engulf every single one of Psyche’s memories, shielding them from Jasper’s invasive thoughts. There. Now he’ll never know that I know he used to love me more than anything.
“What’s wrong?” he asks me, forehead creased. I catch the spark of concern in his eyes before it fizzles back to indifference.
“Nothing.” I lower my hands. “I have a headache. I’m going home.”
He nods and turns toward the bathroom. “And by the way,” he says, pausing with his back to me, “you can’t tell anyone I’m here.”
“Or what? You’ll kill me?”
“No. But Eric might.” He disappears inside, pulling the door closed behind him. The shower turns on. I get out of bed, hands shaking as I pull on my dress and zip it up the back. I tear up the bed searching for my underwear until I realize they’re probably either still lying on the floor in the hall or some pervert has claimed them. Sliding on my shoes, I stumble out into the hallway and run as fast as I can down the stairs.
Outside, the sky is a thick stew of gray clouds. A gust of wind raises bumps on my arms. The concrete of the sidewalk is stained dark, and puddles of water collect in the potholes on the side of the road. I don’t know what bus goes from Willow Park back to campus, so I walk home, tripping in my heels every once in a while.
At one point, I catch my reflection in a storefront window. If anyone looks like she’s been locked up in a jail cell for a year, it’s me. All of the color is drained from my face, smudges of bl
ack eye makeup shadow the delicate skin just beneath my eyes and my hair is a blonde bird’s nest. Without even attempting to fix anything, I turn away from the window and continue to trudge home.
By the time I walk up to the sorority house, a gentle but steady rain has started up again. I swipe my card key in the lock and duck inside. Victoria perches on the edge of the couch, holding her cell phone up to her ear with one hand and biting the nails of the other.
“Uh-huh. Uh-huh. I understand that’s the best you can do right now, but we’re just frantic with—” Victoria balks when she sees me standing in the foyer, dripping water onto the hardwood floor. “Um, never mind,” she says into the phone. “She’s fine. She just got in. Sorry to have troubled you.” She ends the call and stalks up to me. “Where the hell were you?”
“I know—I’m sorry,” I tell her quickly. “I stayed out past curfew without telling anyone—”
“To hell with curfew! Siobhan, one of your sisters is missing! We thought the same thing could have happened to you! How could you just disappear on us last night? Where were you?”
“I…I was with Jimmy.” This time I have no trouble finding the shield and wrapping it around my memories of last night—my memories of Jasper. “I’m really sorry. You’re right—I should have told you guys. We got sort of…caught up in each other after the dance, and I just—”
“It’s fine. I’m just glad you’re alright.” If Victoria knows I’m lying—if she can tell I’m shielding my thoughts from her—she doesn’t let on.
I slog upstairs and mechanically go through my morning routine: shower, clothes, hair, make up. Today is a yoga pants, sorority shirt and ponytail kind of day. I pop a few ibuprofen for my headache. All I want is to go back to sleep, but I might as well try to be productive in the few hours I have before class.
Before I do anything, though, I turn on my computer and open an Internet browser. A few things have been nagging me ever since I noticed the tattoo on Rebecca’s lower back last night.
First, I bring up the homepage of The Grapevine, skimming the posts as I scroll down, down, down to posts from last month, then even last year. Beyond our formal pictures and the announcement of Carly and Alec’s break up, Lady Blah Blah seems to be an avid contributor to the gossip site. Most recently she posted a candid shot of one of Eta Tau’s pledges streaking in the park at night, captioned Hazy Nights.