Entwined

by Kat Catesby

  He walks me and the drinks back to my friends before heading back to the bar to keep watch.

  Despite the burn in my feet from dancing in heels and the sweaty bodies bumping into me on the dance floor, we party on.

  It doesn’t take long for a guy to fall under Dee’s spell – she has serious sex appeal for such a tiny package – and they’re soon lost in their own world of bump and grind.

  From the hungry looks coming Sophia’s way, I suspect it won’t take many more drinks for her to overcome her shyness and to allow one lucky guy to monopolize her time. We dance and drink together until the inevitable happens; the world is getting a little too fuzzy, so I don’t pay much attention to the guy who approaches Sophia, but she likes him.

  I leave them all on the dance floor and fight my way through the sweaty bodies toward the restrooms. I notice Tristan watching me and signal my intention before disappearing into the ladies’ and finding a mercifully – and unheard of – short queue.

  The stall spins around me, so I don’t spend any more time in it than is absolutely necessary. As I wash my hands in a shiny, modern basin as black as coal, I focus on my reflection. Dee did a good job with the make-up; despite the dancing and the sweat, it hasn’t smudged, but that’s not what holds my attention. My eyes are.

  Ever since I transferred to Columbia, I’ve not used contact lenses – none of my sorority sisters do. We are taught confidence in our appearance and to not fear how our eyes look. Of course, most of their eyes aren’t as severe as mine; their speckled molteness is still a little extreme by Guardian standards, but I’ve grown to like them all the same. But maybe they’re why I’m always last to find a date or get hit on? Maybe they are just too startling to human boys. I shrug at the thought; who cares.

  As I walk unsteadily through the restroom door, I find Tristan leaning against the opposite wall.

  “Okay?” he asks.

  I nod, “You won’t pick up anyone by stalking the ladies’ restroom,” my words are slurry adding an extra element of comedy to my statement. Tristan just snorts and tries not to laugh as he reaches out to steady me.

  “Do my eyes make me less pretty, Tristan?” The words are out of my drunken mouth before I can think better of it. When I’m drunk, I have zero filter.

  He looks intently at me, his eyes giving nothing away. “Is this because the others have scored and you haven’t yet?”

  “You’ve spent years watching me – you know that’s always how it happens; I’m always last or not at all,” I sound sorrier for myself than I intend; my self-esteem doesn’t crumble just because drunk men don’t want to hit on me. I’m just genuinely curious to know if he thinks my eyes might be the reason why.

  Tristan holds my face still in both of his warm hands, which helps my vision to be less blurry.

  “Listen closely, Em, because I’m only going to say this once…and I’m counting on you being too drunk to remember it in the morning. You’re beautiful; weird, intense eyes and all.” He says it not in the way a man would if he were hitting on me or flirting with me – he just says it, like it’s a fact that everyone should find obvious. And that makes it all the more powerful. “Let’s go find the others,” he says as he steers me back towards the dance floor.

  Dee finds us first and she doesn’t need to say anything, I know that she’s leaving with the guy currently squeezing her ass. I’m starting to think that Avidites don’t have the monopoly on sexual desire.

  “Where’s Sophia?” I call above the music.

  “Isn’t she with you?” Dee calls back, impatience to be alone with her man clear in her voice.

  “I left you both dancing with guys on the dance floor.”

  “I didn’t see her, but my attention has been elsewhere,” she smirks.

  “Go have fun, I’ll find her.”

  Dee’s grin takes over her whole face as she and her date head off.

  “Do you need help?” offers Tristan.

  “Nah, she’ll be around. If I get really stuck, I’ll come and find you – same spot at the bar?”

  He nods and heads back to his favorite vantage point.

  I wander around on my own trying to spot Sophia; it takes longer than I’m comfortable with, so my drunken stupor starts to wear off and I get prickly with adrenaline. Where is she?

  Then I spot her, ascending a wrought iron staircase in the duskiest corner of the club with the guy she was dancing with earlier. Without the alcohol fuzzing my eyes, I get a better view of him this time; to the casual observer, there’s nothing but an attractive face and muscular physique. But being what I am and given what I’ve seen, I know when something is just…off.

  He has the standard too-perfect appearance of an Avidite.

  Most of my sorority sisters haven’t consciously met one so probably wouldn’t know how to spot one, but surely her eyes give her away to him?

  Jackson said that relationships between our two kinds are still rare and I’ve learned enough over the past few years to know this to be true, so what does this guy want with Sophia?

  Probably nothing more than the bragging rights of being the guy who screwed a clueless Guardian virgin, which is bad enough if she doesn’t know what she’s getting into, but I can’t take the risk that it’s anything more sinister than that. I need to make sure that she’s okay so push my way over to the staircase.

  I pull out my phone and send a message to Tristan; he can handle himself, but I’d rather not put him in the position where he has to face off with a supernatural.

  Me: Found Sophia. She’s upstairs. Going to check she’s okay. Don’t panic, back soon.

  I put my phone back in my tiny clutch and try to figure out how to get past the gorilla holding a clipboard who’s guarding the velvet rope that blocks off the spiral staircase to the general public.

  Adrenaline continues coursing through me, thankfully burning through the last remnants of alcohol and affording me clarity I shouldn’t have.

  Just then, I spot a group of attractive girls being led towards the staircase and surreptitiously tag myself to the back of the group. They’re too tipsy to notice my sudden appearance and the guard too distracted by the amount of flesh on display, so I’m ushered past the velvet rope with no problems.

  I follow the group up the stairs, the clanging of heels on metal barely audible above the pounding music. The nightclub has a double-height ceiling, so the winding staircase coils around several times before we exit onto a long suspended walk-way overlooking the club below that leads to a large industrial metal door that blocks the view of the room behind.

  When the door opens and I walk through, I enter a space that feels like a totally different club; more seductive, more erotic…more dangerous.

  The industrial door closes behind me, cocooning me in this new environment. I stand just past the threshold and try to take it all in – the room is a deep red with small assents of purple and blue with heavy decadent drapes covering the walls and partitioning areas of the large room. The ceiling is pure glass, like an orangery, and frames the vast night sky and the turbulent looking clouds rolling above us.

  A small but exclusive bar area is tucked innocuously in the far corner and between it and me, in the center of the room, is a sunken pool; too big to be a hot tub, but not large enough to swim very far in. The sides and floor of it must be painted or tiled in black, making the water appear inky…designed to obscure the activities of those inside. It might have been successful were it not for the naked, writhing couple making it obvious that they’re fucking and feeding in the ominous depths.

  Great – another Donor party.

  The last one I attended didn’t end so well.

  I look around at the dancing bodies, sweaty and sultry, moving to a sexy rhythm; Avidites and humans joined at the lips, some by their naked hips and all totally oblivious to one another and the shows they are putting on.

  One human girl is spread naked on a chair while an Avidite feeds from the femoral artery in her thigh;
I didn’t think it was possible to feel overdressed in my current outfit, but I do.

  I look around desperately for Sophia, this isn’t her scene, she wouldn’t be comfortable with this, but I don’t see her. Instead, a girl walks with weak knees past me and there is no mistaking her drug-dilated eyes. I can’t stand the thought that Sophia could be in here, drugged and about to take part in something that once sober, will knock her social confidence back years.

  My fists clench into tight, white-knuckled balls, my body vibrating with adrenaline and power as I step forward and scream loud enough to be heard over the music.

  “WHERE IS SOPHIA?”

  All eyes look at me, assessing me; what I am is obvious…how much trouble I’m about to cause isn’t.

  “Emilia,” I feel his presence a split second before I hear him.

  He moves out from behind a drape to my right, which is how I didn’t spot him the moment I walked in.

  Jackson.

  It’s been years since I last saw him and although I pretend otherwise, he’s never far from my thoughts. Like gravity, my body yearns to move toward him. But this isn’t the time or place to indulge my obsession.

  Jackson moves towards me and I’m pleased to see that he is fully dressed, his sharp shirt rolled up at the sleeves to reveal his taut forearms.

  But that’s as much attention as I dare pay him; the years apart have done nothing to extinguish the wildfire that rips through me when I look into those indigo eyes. And when I see how those eyes are looking at me, it’s a wonder that I’m able to keep breathing.

  But I’m here for Sophia, not for him, even though it causes almost physical pain not to reach out and touch him. It would be so easy to just stand there and let him continue to close the distance between us, but I can’t; I now have the answer to what it would feel like to see him again, and it’s too much…just like last time.

  I back away from him.

  “Where is Sophia?” I shout again. Just saying her name is enough to pull me back to my senses; her safety comes first. I can process my emotional fall-out from Jackson later.

  He looks blankly at me. “Who’s Sophia?”

  “She was brought in here just before me. She’s like me, so if you know what’s good for you, you’ll give her back – untouched.” My temper increases as my voice rises.

  Jackson can’t disguise his irritation. “You run away from me and then you barge into my club and shout at me?”

  His club?

  Shit.

  It makes sense when I think about his name and the name of the club; Smoak, Inferno…why didn’t I figure that out sooner? I’d learned that Jackson was the owner of quite a large and profitable company called FireStorm; he owns a variety of businesses and properties under this umbrella company and the names are always fire or smoke related – a play on his name.

  “Well, as it’s your club, Mr. Smoak, I feel I should inform you that several of your patrons appear to be under the influence of drugs. Pretty sure there are laws governing the dealing and taking of drugs,” I say sarcastically – offense being the best defense. “And I know that there are serious repercussions regarding the administration of drugs by Avidites to unconsenting Guardians,” I threaten. “Don’t make me ask again, where is Sophia?”

  Anger burns in his eyes, but he’s not as smooth as he thinks he is. I see the flicker of hurt he tries to hide and I have to ignore it. I feel bad for talking to him like shit, but I can’t succumb to my guilt just yet – I’ll have plenty of time to punish myself later, so I ignore the pain I’ve inflicted.

  “Find her. NOW,” he shouts to the rest of the room, his hot gaze never leaving mine. His eyes bore into me, blazing with the force of his will trying to break down my defenses. The slightest hint of weakness on my part will see him pounce.

  I stand my ground, my temper rolling off me in waves of heat, my eyes radiating and I feel the familiar warmth of my powers flooding my system. The objects nearest me begin to defy gravity. “Don’t play with me Jackson, I’m not in the mood.”

  “Obviously.”

  My eyes flicker to the drape he appeared from as movement catches my attention; a face I thought I’d left behind stares smugly at me…Sonya. Complete with fresh teeth marks; he’d been feeding on her again and if her skimpy, slutty clothes are any indication, they probably weren’t far from fucking each other either.

  My jealously – even after all this time – is my weakness…and Jackson knows it.

  While I’m distracted by Sonya, he moves at full supernatural speed and cages me between his strong arms against yet another wall.

  “Get off me,” I growl.

  “No. We’re going to have a conversation until your friend emerges.”

  “No, we’re not,” my voice is strained, why can’t he see that I can’t do this with him here, not until Sophia is safe?

  His inability to read my mind only inflames my temper further.

  “You will talk to me. You will explain to me why you ran and you will explain how you can come here and talk to me like I mean nothing,” he demands.

  “The same way you can fuck other women as if I mean nothing,” I curse my pathetic jealousy the second the words leave my mouth. It’s not like I’ve been celibate…if anything, I’ve tried to fuck Jackson out of my system. I can’t punish him for doing the same, especially as it’s how he gets fed.

  But I just hate Sonya so fucking much.

  Any woman but her.

  Fuck the whole goddamn city, just not her.

  And while I’m at it, if he really missed me so much, why didn’t he just get his blood from a blood bank? He doesn’t have to fuck, he chooses to.

  Just like I chose to.

  My gut clenches at the double standard; I’m not being fair.

  Guilt flits across his features and his display of genuine emotion only enflames me further.

  “Let’s talk,” he says sincerely, but I just can’t deal with the emotions I have for him this second.

  “NOT NOW,” I shriek at him in exasperation.

  I lash out, desperate for some space from him so that I can focus on what I need to. My knee collides with his groin, doubling him over in pain and with his face bent close to mine I thrust the heel of my palm into his throat, choking him. I look over his head so that I don’t have to see his wounded expression as I close my fingers around his neck at the same time I sweep my leg behind his knee, pulling his leg out from under him and slamming him into the floor.

  A frustrated, strangled cry escapes me and I feel like it hurts me just as much to hurt him…and not just because his body is so solid the impact spots still sting.

  Sonya doesn’t look smug anymore and the shock at my strength is quickly replaced on Jackson’s face by pure, undiluted, terrifying fury.

  I remember once thinking that I wouldn’t ever want to be on the receiving end of one of his vicious tirades, now I know that to be true…if looks could kill, I’d be flayed alive.

  “That was below the belt, literally,” he growls dangerously as he stalks to his feet in full predator mode. Even Sonya shrinks back behind the drape, but this time it’s my turn in the firing line.

  I don’t think I could hide my fear no matter how hard I tried. It breaks my heart that he can look at me like that, but I deserve it so I may as well deal with it and prepare to take whatever he throws at me. I’m not stupid enough to think that I could start a fight with him and not have him try and finish it…

  I was just stupid enough to start a fight in the first place.

  He takes a menacing step toward me, so I raise my fists and adjust my stance to defend myself, but the perfect-timing gods shine down on me and from a door I hadn’t noticed, emerges Shaun with another Avidite I recognize as the guy Sophia was dancing with and in his arms…a drugged Sophia.

  The intensity of the rage I feel frightens me, bubbling up inside me like boiling water until it spills out with explosive force in streaks of blinding white light and a piercing scream. My
powers take hold of me completely, exploding from me like a supernova and shattering the glass roof above me into a thousand tiny pieces, raining down spiky shards of pain.

  When the explosion dissipates and my ragged body is left to deal with the consequences, I see shock and fear in every pair of eyes but one…in his I see awe.

  “When will you learn?” I murmur in reference to yet another drugging and he looks ashamed on behalf of the idiot who though giving Sophia Rohypnol was a good idea. The idiot carries her over to me, “You knew what she was, and it’s obvious she’s not a Donor, yet you drugged her anyway?” I look from him to Shaun and remember his ill-conceived attempt to have fun with me. “Two of a kind…people like you should be behind bars.”

  “He will face the consequences of his actions, Emilia, I promise,” assures Jackson.

  “Save it. Your idea of justice and mine are completely different. You think smashing his face in will solve the problem whereas I believe that attempted rapists belong in jail.”

  At that moment Tristan and his team burst through the large industrial door with their firearms drawn. He looks from Jackson to me, and then to Sophia in my arms.

  “You took too long,” his voice is clipped as they move forward to protect me. One of the guys takes Sophia in his arms and walks back towards the door with her.

  “They drugged her,” I say.

  “I know. Let’s get her home and take care of her.”

  It’s impossible not to see the staring match between Tristan and Jackson. Tristan moves to shield me from him and motions me towards the door; Jackson moves to stop him and ends up with Tristan’s gun in his face.

  My heart lurches into my mouth.

  “How many times do you think I’m going to watch you take her from me and let you live?” I’ve never heard Jackson so menacing, not even after I hit him.

  “How many times do you need to watch her leave before you get a clue?” retorts Tristan unkindly. “Be careful how you go boy, you wouldn’t want me to make a mess on that expensive shirt of yours by blowing your brains all over it.”