Harlow scoffed. “It is not!”
But her friend just smirked; her attention shifting to the man carrying a tray of food walking toward them. He had orange hair and a patchy beard to match. Harlow sighed as he deposited plates with giant burgers and a mountain of fries on the table. He winked at Lenae, who blew him a kiss as though they were old friends. Or lovers. Lenae bit into hers first, muffling her groan of delight into the greasy, cheesy burger.
“Besides, it’s not like I’ll ever do it.”
Lenae straightened, suddenly looking serious. “Listen to me.” Her dark brown eyes met Harlow’s. “If that’s what you really want, then go for it. Don’t sit around pining for the life you truly want. Go out there and get it. Only you can make it happen. Hell, quit your teaching job, buy yourself a ticket, and go tomorrow.”
Harlow nearly choked on a bite of beef and stilton. “I can’t go tomorrow. I’d need another job, a place to stay. These things take months. What about the lease on my apartment?”
Lenae waved a hand dismissively as she took another bite. “I’ll take care of everything here. The lease on my apartment is up next month, so I can stay at yours until it runs out. That way if you need to come back, it’ll still be there, and we can just be roommates for a while.”
Harlow’s heart thudded as a wild excitement fluttered in her chest.
“Well I’d have to buy a ticket; they probably won’t have anything for at least a week that isn’t mega expensive.”
Lenae set her burger aside and pulled her phone out, typing away furiously before Harlow had even finished her sentence. A moment later, she turned the device around and shoved it under her friend’s nose. “Tomorrow afternoon.”
Harlow set her half-eaten burger down and studied the screen, her mouth suddenly dry. “I-I’d have to pack, and…my car, I can’t just leave my car.”
Lenae rolled her eyes. “Tell you what. I’ll buy this ticket right now and you can pay me back whenever. I’ll make sure your car is looked after and you can just take with you what you absolutely need for starting out. Once you find yourself an apartment and you’re sure you’re going to stay, I’ll drive you your car with the rest of your things. Tomorrow morning we’ll pack as much as we can, and I’ll do the rest.”
Harlow’s lips parted as her mind spun for any further objections. This wasn’t her. She didn’t do things impulsively, especially something this major.
“There, it’s done, so no more arguing,” Lenae said, stowing her phone. “Now let’s get you tipsy and laid and tomorrow we can waste time regretting rash decisions.” She grabbed Harlow’s hand and pulled her to her feet, their food and drinks forgotten. They laughed as Lenae led them through the crowd until they were in the heart of the pulsing club.
They swayed their hips and moved in wild abandon. For Lenae, it was as natural as breathing. For Harlow, only the ridiculous amount of alcohol that had been in the drink could have enticed her to dance as she did.
The lights flashed and the music was inescapable. When a particularly beefy man sidled up behind Harlow, she caught sight of Jacob standing still across the way, looking menacing. He was a statue while everyone around him jumped, danced and kissed like tonight was the last night of their lives.
Still he watched her, and a chill slid down her spine like an ice cube tracking along her bare, heated flesh. The man whose hands sought Harlow persistently—no matter how far away she moved from his stench—finally found purchase on her ass and she whirled, only to find Jacob already there.
He shoved the man away with a snarl that didn’t sound entirely normal. The crowd parted, many people shrieking. To be fair, Jacob looked as though he was about to kill the guy.
“Jacob! It’s okay,” Harlow shouted over the music. Lenae was several feet away from her, unaware of the drama ensuing. An ebony-skinned man with well-toned biceps had her hips pinned against him; Lenae threw her head back against his chest and laughed at something he whispered in her ear.
The large, smelly man that had copped a feel of Harlow glared at Jacob but fled nonetheless, clearly reading the murder written on his face. Even Harlow found herself retreating a step when Jacob whirled on her.
“Get out of this place. It’s filled with men just like him.”
Harlow blinked, stupefied. Never had he spoken to her so harshly.
“Well you’re here, so what does that say about you?” she snapped.
His jaw clenched as his eyes lifted to something behind her. Or rather someone.
Lenae.
“I’m here for work. I was just leaving. And you should too,” he said.
“Thanks for the tip.” Harlow spun and headed for Lenae. Before she managed to get more than a step or two away from the bossy man, however, he whirled her around. His hand was searing, and she gasped.
Eyes narrowed, Jacob said—much quieter this time— “Don’t even think about flying to New York tomorrow.”
Between the alcohol, the stifling heat in the room, and Jacob’s words, Harlow was stunned into silence.
Her mouth opened, but the only words that came out were, “What—how—?”
“I mean it,” he warned, eyes cutting around the room as though he were looking for someone. “Cancel the flight.” And with that he shouldered his way back through the throng. Away from her.
She huffed, renewed in her determination to find Lenae and leave. When she found her friend, her eyes were glazed with alcohol and lust.
“What’s up?” she asked. Harlow glanced back over her shoulder to see if Jacob was still in the crowd. She caught sight of his large frame just as it disappeared in the crowd. His words rattled her. How had he heard that she planned to fly to New York tomorrow? Maybe he reads lips, she reasoned. Whatever the case, why had he warned her at all? What wasn’t safe?
Worrying her bottom lip, she turned back to Lenae, noticing that her friend’s gaze lingering on the spot where Jacob had been moments before.
Lenae’s throat bobbed. The guy behind her whispered in her ear again and she smiled, though the desire in her eyes had clearly dimmed.
“Ready to go?” Harlow asked quietly enough for the guy vying for her friend’s lowered inhibitions to not overhear.
Lenae bit her bottom lip, clearly torn.
“It’s okay if you’re not. I think I’m just going to get a cab or something.”
“No.” Lenae shook her head, tight curls clinging to her sweat-slicked neck. “We can go.”
As they started for the doors, Harlow thought she saw another flash of emerald green eyes and golden hair, but soon the cool night air rushed over her skin and cleared her head instantly.
Tomorrow she was going to New York.
No vague warning from some guy she barely knew was going to stop her. Soon she’d be gone and there’d be no weird neighbor that watched her like she was some ticking time bomb. No more ambitionless kids that mocked her passion.
Tomorrow she’d finally chase her dream.
Harlow
You better text me every ten minutes,” Lenae said, cocking a hip to the side, bottom lip sticking out in a faux pout.
Harlow nodded, grinning. “I’ll totally bug the crap out of you.”
Lenae smiled, her eyes glassy. Before Harlow could comment, her friend pulled her into a tight hug. “Be safe.”
“I will.”
“This isn’t goodbye,” Lenae said, as though she were trying to convince herself of that fact as much as Harlow.
She nodded. “I’ll see you soon.” Her voice cracked, and Lenae waved her away before either of them burst into tears.
She met Lenae in her sophomore year of college, and though Lenae was two years older, they’d become instant friends. After graduation, when Harlow’s other friends had dispersed, they’d all promised to keep in contact but never did. Only Lenae—who had continued to get her master’s—did, and they’d been roommates until Harlow graduated.
In the queue for
security Harlow turned to wave but Lenae was already gone. It wasn’t surprising—she hated crying in front of other people.
When Harlow arrived at her gate, boarding had already begun, and she took her place in line. Just as she got to the kiosk and held out her ticket to be scanned, the machine beeped and flashed red.
“Oh, it looks like you’ve been upgraded to first class, Ms. Marks,” the middle-aged woman said, as if that news was the highlight of her day.
“Really?” Harlow asked. “But I didn’t pay for first class.”
The woman squinted at the screen, double-checking its information. “Well someone did, anyhow. Row one, seat A,” she said, taking the ticket and scribbling the new seating information onto it, before handing it back to Harlow.
Her face heated as she mumbled her thanks and hurried down the tunnel to the idling plane. Had Lenae called and upgraded her ticket without telling her? It was possible, though improbable, she thought.
There is one other person who might, Harlow considered. Intensely gorgeous features filled her mind, his warning from the night before echoing through her—haunting and unbidden. She shook the thought away. Jacob had told her not to go, he wouldn’t pay for her to fly first class.
She quickly took her seat before someone could chase after her and tell her there had been a mistake.
Long minutes passed as dozens of bored-looking faces shuffled past her seat, glancing longingly at the large armchairs while Harlow flicked through her email again. When there was nothing of interest, she quickly grew bored and turned off her phone, then stuffed it into her pocket.
The line of people began to thin, and Harlow wondered if the seat next to hers would remain empty.
When the door to the plane was closed, she realized with glee that she didn’t have to worry about sitting next to someone with terrible body odor, or someone who was unusually chatty.
The smiling, flight attendant made her rounds through first class for drink orders, and brought Harlow a small cup filled with warm, strong coffee that she sipped. When the plane pushed back, a cord of nervousness snapped through her. She’d flown only once before: when she was fourteen, right after her parents died. That time, she’d been with her sister. But as the jet tore down the runway, Harlow distinctly remembered why she wasn’t such a huge fan of flying.
The roaring engine was Harlow’s constant companion once they were airborne, and she stared above the fluffy clouds, looking forward to starting the newest chapter of her life.
An hour into the flight, Harlow pulled out a sketchpad and pencils and let her hand move over the paper. It started as a harmless sketch of an angular jaw, a pair of eyes filled with far more wisdom than a dozen lifespans. By the time she began to shade in the masculine form, the man began to look familiar.
She cocked her head side to side, trying to place the nagging sensation of familiarity as the flight attendant started down the aisle. Harlow could feel the woman’s gaze on her sketchpad when she paused.
“Wow, that’s really good,” the woman said. Her smile was kind, accentuating the fine lines beginning to form around her mouth and eyes. “Handsome man.”
Harlow’s cheeks heated. “Thanks,” she said, unsure of what to say to the last part.
“You an artist?” The woman’s blond curls were dull and stiff with too much hairspray. She was pretty, with curves that no doubt still drew the eyes of many men, but Harlow noticed the exhaustion in her expression. In the slight curve of her shoulders.
She nodded.
“Heading to New York to try your luck there?” the woman asked in an almost amused tone that grated on Harlow.
Still she smiled. “I grew up there.”
“Oh, how lovely.” The flight attendant’s eyes returned to the drawing of a man wearing an expensive suit. When she walked away, Harlow wondered if the woman too noticed the cold, unfeeling stare Harlow had somehow captured—when in truth, it was not what she’d intended.
The seat belt sign dinged so she shoved the sketchbook back into her bag, just as the captain announced their soon arrival into New York City.
When the wonder of the sprawling cityscape came into view, Harlow’s heart rate sped up and her lips spread in a wide smile.
Before her was an adventure with so much to explore. A fresh start, in a city with more art and historical architecture than she could fathom. And it was now her home.
Harlow shivered as the cool spring air washed over her, blowing the hair from her face when she stepped through the sliding doors and onto the bustling city street. Her luggage rattled on the pavement behind her as she hailed a cab and gave the driver the address of the hotel she had booked.
The car drove west toward Manhattan and Harlow’s heart pounded. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling.
When the car stopped along the curb, the driver quickly jumped out to grab her suitcases from the back. Pushing the door open, she stepped out onto the sidewalk and looked around. The hotel before her was as nice as she could afford, with grey stonework and small wrought iron balconies on each floor.
“That’ll be fifty-two seventy, Miss,” the driver rasped.
Harlow’s heart leapt up in her throat. “Th-that much?” she said with a chuckle.
His wrinkled, pug-like face betrayed his annoyance while she fumbled through her bag for her wallet. She pulled out three twenties and handed them to the driver.
He stared at the bills as though expecting another twenty to appear with the others. When she offered him only a nervous smile, he shook his head. Lip curling in an ugly sneer, he spat at her feet and stormed back to the driver seat.
She stared, dumbfounded as the angry cab driver pulled away without a backward glance. All around her people passed, some talking on their phones, others not bothering to look up as they tapped their screens. Someone’s shoulder rammed into hers, spinning her around.
Not even a muffled apology followed.
“Watch it!” she shouted at the man wearing sunglasses, who shot her a smirk to show he’d heard.
Fuming, she nearly chased after him so she could shout some more, but instead she grabbed her bags, suddenly defensive of every stranger on the street.
She struggled to roll them inside the revolving doors herself, as she knew she would when she’d decided to bring two big suitcases and her small carry-on.
The woman behind the counter didn’t look up when Harlow approached, feeling a bead of sweat trickle between her shoulder blades.
“Hi. I have a booking,” she greeted the concierge.
The woman’s bored gaze lifted from the computer screen and took Harlow in—no doubt her hair was as frazzled as she felt. “Name?”
She sucked in a calming breath. “Harlow Marks.”
Wordlessly the woman began stabbing keys on the keyboard, loud enough to reverberate through the grand foyer.
Carved stone pillars accentuated the high walls, the decorative trim resembling lace. Prints of famous paintings decorated the walls with no theme or reason. It was a decent attempt at elegant, if a little disorganized.
The woman huffed as she slapped a keycard and pamphlet onto the counter. “Room 116.”
“Thanks,” Harlow muttered before looking for a cart to carry her bags. She didn’t think the woman behind the counter would be of much help to her, so she dragged her bags behind her, ready to shut herself in and have several seconds of quiet.
By the time she reached the correct door, a relieved sigh escaped her. She swiped the keycard through the slot, and pushed the door open. Pulling her bags behind her, she stepped into the narrow entryway.
Looking around, her stomach dropped. It was small. Really small. The pictures online had made the rooms look so much bigger.
“It’s okay,” she said to the room as though forming an agreement with it. “This is just temporary.”
The faded, worn armchair and stained carpet made her grimace, but at least the place looked clean. She pee
red through the entryway on her left, revealing the even smaller bathroom.
“I can make this work.” She bit her bottom lip. There was a small round table beneath the TV that was hardly big enough for one person to eat at, let alone setting up an easel and all of her art supplies.
Harlow dragged her bags to the twin bed and hefted them atop the gaudy brown and mauve duvet. She unzipped the one that contained her toiletries and grabbed everything for a quick shower.
Feeling clean and refreshed from the hot water, Harlow had dinner delivered to her room, then decided to set up what few painting supplies she’d brought with her. She moved the tiny table near the window that looked out at the vibrant city that began to glow with the darkening sky, and got to work. Brush and palette in hand, her eyes drifted to the bare, prepped canvas, and her focus shifted.
In an elegant room of jewels glittering too brightly and too colorful for Harlow’s eyes, sat a woman on a grand throne. Or at least, Harlow thought it was a woman. She certainly wasn’t human. Her gown was dark forest green, pooling past the base of the throne, spilling over gleaming stone steps. The bodice cinched up her thin waist and the neckline swooped down low, though her chest was completely flat. The regal woman’s skin was the color of jade, her face thin with high, razor-sharp cheekbones. Her large eyes were so dark, they looked black. As for hair, a sweep of cerulean waves cascaded over one bony shoulder.
Long black claws curled from her thin, spidery fingers over the edge of the armrests. Terrifying. Powerful. Sensual.
Beyond the flowing fabric of her dress sat a massive beast with thick, grey skin and silver eyes. It looked like a cross between a huge bear and a greyhound as it sat sentinel beside its master. Protecting her. Yet the more Harlow looked, the more she saw something cunning and cruel in the creature’s gaze. If an animal could smile, she was sure it did.
And just like that, the strange queen and her protective pet fled Harlow’s mind, and before her in a dimly lit room was a canvas, delicately and beautifully capturing every detail. Though Harlow felt sure it was a muted version of what she’d seen. For all the world of shades and hues, they were nothing compared to the world her mind had conjured.
Marked for Darkness Page 2