by Dima Zales
The acrobats complete an especially impressive pose, and everyone gives them a standing ovation.
Lucky acrobats.
What I wouldn’t give for a standing ovation.
My jealousy over all this enthusiastic clapping gives me an idea. Could I perform as an illusionist here at Earth Club? Or if not here, perhaps someplace else in Gomorrah? After all, the reason I’m forbidden from performing is the Mandate, but the Mandate happens to not apply in this world.
Would the Cognizant even be impressed with my effects? After all, many of them can do for real what I only pretend to be able to do. And for most of the mentalism effects, they would suspect I’m using my seer powers. Then again, and this is the strongest argument against this idea, if I worked in Gomorrah all the time, I’d lose my powers for good and—
The elevator arrives, and Ariel and Gaius herd me into it.
The ride back up is again incredibly swift; it almost seems like doors close, then open right back at the street level of the club.
A good-looking man is standing in front of our glass elevator.
It’s Darian, and he looks smug—probably because he’s proud of his ability to anticipate the exact moment we’d arrive.
Clearly, he’s managed to forget the Kit snafu.
“You,” Ariel says to Darian, and letting go of my upper arm, she puts her hands on her hips.
“Darian,” Gaius says caustically. “Didn’t you want to speak with me on the ninth level?”
“Greetings,” Darian says, his British accent sounding sexier than usual. “I’ve changed my mind about speaking with you. It is my prerogative as a Councilor to speak with the Enforcers… or not, as I choose.”
As he speaks, his green eyes seem to stare through us at something beyond the horizon—or perhaps more accurately, in the future.
Feeling crowded, I take a step forward to exit the elevator, but I must still be weak or hormonally dull-witted, because I trip over the spot where the elevator meets the floor.
Before I can faceplant on the ground, Darian’s surprisingly strong arms catch me and stand me on my feet.
“You okay?” he asks, his accent deepening.
“I don’t know,” I say, unable to stop staring into those green—
Ariel clears her throat next to me. “Thank you, Darian,” she says, though it’s clear even to me in my strange state that she doesn’t mean it wholeheartedly.
“No worries.” Darian strokes his perfectly groomed goatee. “A dance with Sasha shall be enough of a reward for my services.”
“Who said Sasha is dancing with you?” Ariel’s eyes narrow. “She needs to go home. She—”
“Sasha decides who she dances with and when,” I say, crossing my arms. “One dance will not kill me.” I look over Darian’s wide shoulders approvingly. “It might, in fact, do the opposite.”
As my mouth speaks, my mind wonders why I’m actually agreeing to this dance.
I’ve seen what he wants—that scene with Kit was quite revealing—but that doesn’t mean I have to play along.
I just want to ask him some questions about seer powers.
Yes, that’s it.
I’m certainly not agreeing to this dance because I remember the look on his face when he thought he was kissing me, or because I like that crease in his forehead as he waits for my decision. And definitely not because of his very nibbleable sinewy neck.
And his accent is not sexy. The Queen of England has the same accent, and I don’t want to have sex with Her Majesty—
“A dance might be a good idea.” Gaius puts a hand on Ariel’s hip. “Afterward, you can take her home.”
“Fine.” Ariel’s tone is identical to the one my mom often used when I was younger. “But just one dance.”
I nod solemnly, and Darian extends his arms to me.
Placing my hands in his, I feel an electric spark again. My breathing quickens, and my palms grow damp, along with a few other places on my body.
Damn Harper. I’m running out of gross things to think about.
In that exact moment, a slow tune starts emanating from the million speakers all around us, making me realize that no songs were playing while we chatted with Darian.
I tear my eyes away from Darian’s hypnotic stare and catch Ariel’s gaze.
I bet she, like me, doesn’t think the music thing was a coincidence. Darian must’ve paid the DJ to time this song exactly, which means—
Darian starts to sway in tune with the music, and I get swept up by the dance.
Stupid incubus. Is it his doing, or did I previously just not notice the full extent of how good-looking Darian is?
As though using a supercomputer to decide the optimal trajectory, Darian moves us over the dance floor with graceful and confident movements.
I’ve always known his eyes are green, but I only now notice how very green they actually are. If someone told me he could do photosynthesis with those eyes, I’d believe it in a heartbeat.
He leans toward me.
A part of me hopes he wants to kiss the real me, just as the much more rational part of me knows I should kick him in the groin if he dares.
“How are your seer visions progressing?” Darian whispers into my ear, his voice a husky croon.
He then turns and bends his head, placing his own ear near my mouth so I can reply. To my shock, I find even his ear attractive. It’s shaped just so, and the earlobe is so soft and touchable…
Doing my best to shake off Harper’s voodoo, I try to sound as nonchalant as I can. “I only get dream visions, and even those not predictably.”
The music picks up, and Darian does a cross-body lead dance move that makes us reverse positions. It also leaves me breathless and feeling like I’m on the set of Dancing with the Stars.
Leaning again as though to kiss me, Darian murmurs, “It’s great that you get full visions already—the power boost I got you is clearly working. However, dream visions are limiting because you only get two hours of REM sleep per day, max. If your fate puts multiple threats in one day, you’ll be lucky if you get a single dream vision as a warning.” He arches me back in another impressive dance move.
When our bodies meet again, he leans in and continues. “Awake unsolicited visions are what you should strive for next. They’re similar to dream visions in that you don’t control when you get them. However, you have a whole day as a window of opportunity.” He twirls me around as if I were a ballerina. “Eventually, the most powerful of us learn to bring forth visions with conscious control.”
The combination of what Darian is telling me and his dance moves is making me NASA-training dizzy.
I’m on the verge of peppering him with a million questions when I spot Ariel dancing with Gaius a few feet away.
If my dancing with Darian can be said to be sensual, what Ariel and Gaius are doing is borderline erotic. They are basically dry-humping to the music. To make matters even more interesting, when they do grudgingly pull away from each other, their respective super strengths allow them to pull off a dance move I’ve never even heard of.
Someone clearly got inspired by the acrobats on the ninth floor.
Ariel’s eyes are wild, her cheeks as flushed as they might get during an orgasm—
Damn you, incubus. Now I’m thinking about Ariel’s orgasms.
When the acrobatics are over, Gaius leans close to Ariel again, and I see him nuzzling her neck. Ariel looks blissfully ecstatic.
It’s official.
If those two are “just friends,” they’re friends with major benefits.
“We don’t have much time for our dance,” Darian says, and I recall where I am—and why I’m so hot and bothered. “I know you got my gift.”
“The tape?” I let Darian twirl me in place. “How did you know I got it? Did you have a vision?” I’m glad to have something that can pull my thoughts away from how hot he looks and how sexy—
“No.” Darian’s smirk is the cutest smile I’ve ever seen. �
��I tracked my package on the UPS website.”
I reply with the most unladylike snort, but he covers it up by giving me yet another twirl—and I start noticing that other dancers are looking at us with envy.
Darian leans in even closer, and I can almost taste the scent of bergamot in his cologne. “Have you seen any visions of me?”
He’s trying to look nonchalant, but I can tell he’s holding his breath. The answer is important to him for some reason—further proof that he’s not all-knowing.
“No,” I say. “My visions so far have all been about getting killed, so unless you plan to kill me, I doubt I’ll have a vision about you. You don’t plan to kill me, right?”
“Of course not,” he says, barely hiding his disappointment. “So all your visions were of the near future then?”
“Yes,” I say. “Why?”
“Unlike you, I have seen visions of the two of us,” he says, and as though to match his words, his green eyes take on a distant look. “In one future, we’re so happy together that—”
He stops, his eyes locking on something behind me as his face turns ghost white.
My heart beating at two hundred miles an hour, I follow Darian’s gaze.
Chapter Fourteen
It takes me a moment to realize what Darian is looking at.
In a small alcove that must be the VIP area stands a familiar broad-shouldered figure.
It’s Nero, his face frightening—yet surprisingly sexy—in its fury.
Now I understand.
Darian must’ve just had a vision of the future where Nero rips him a new one—or whatever it is about my boss that scares this grown man so much.
I realize my hands are suddenly empty, but like a deer staring at deadly headlights, I find it hard to wrench my gaze away from Nero’s wrath.
By the time I do look back at my dance partner, he’s not there.
Scanning the dance floor, I fail to find Darian anywhere.
I rub my eyes.
Still no Darian.
How did he disappear so quickly?
Is he using his power to help with this ninja stunt? If he can foresee where I’d look, he can theoretically make sure not to be there in that moment. Of course, that kind of control of his seer abilities would—
I’m distracted when my gaze lands on Nero’s angular face again.
Crap. Harper’s machinations are definitely coloring my perceptions of my boss.
I’ve never wanted to strip in front of Nero and jump his bones so badly. I mean, ever.
Tearing my gaze away, I catch a glimpse of the VIP alcove where Nero came from. There’s a gaggle of modelesque floozies he was clearly sharing that tiny table with.
What a jerk.
I’m not going to jump him now.
What am I saying? I was never going to jump Nero.
Was I?
He gets closer, his expression morphing from angry to concerned.
Aww. Is he worried about me? A warm, melting sensation fills my chest.
Oh no. I frantically think about boogers, then crusty remnants of mascara and that hair-like gunk on used pore strips, but none of those things are gross enough to silence the sudden barrage of X-rated images of Nero that flit though my stupid brain.
Ariel stops humping Gaius long enough to notice Nero approach, and by the time my boss is halfway to my location, Ariel is standing shoulder to shoulder with me.
If she knew what I was just thinking about, she’d want to Purell that shoulder.
“What the hell is Nero doing here?” I ask Ariel, shoving aside all the warm melties. “I had so many more questions for Darian, and he spooked him.”
“Nero owns this club,” Ariel replies over the music. “And your conversation with Darian could’ve been misconstrued as Darian trying to steal you from Nero… as a Mentee.”
Of course. I should’ve freaking guessed Nero owns this place. What doesn’t he own?
This explains the reaction of the bouncer orc when Ariel name-dropped Nero. It also might explain—
Nero gestures with his hand, and the music comes to a screeching halt.
The people around us sense something off and move out of Nero’s way, allowing him to reach me in a couple of a long-legged, predatory strides.
“Sasha.” His deep voice oozes sex appeal—something I’m sure I’ve never noticed before.
Probably because I’ve never had incubus cooties in my system around my boss before.
“Nero.” I try my best not to stutter.
He’s standing within kissing distance.
Scratch that, he’s standing within slapping distance.
Inhaling the air as though he’s sniffing me, he gives me a thorough onceover before capturing my gaze.
The limbal ring in his eyes is extra thick today, and his skintight blue shirt highlights every muscle on his powerful body. The color brings out the blue in his blue-gray eyes, reminding me of a stormy ocean.
He wets his lips.
His clean, woodsy scent hits my nostrils, and I wonder if he, too, is an incubus.
It’s either that, or Harper’s mojo is out of control.
I want to bite those lips, then grab him, push him to the floor, and jump on top.
He leans in.
Chapter Fifteen
Is Nero about to kiss me?
Am I going to let him?
Why didn’t I have a dream about this?
“You don’t seem well,” he says, his thick eyebrows drawing into a frown. “You.” He looks at Ariel. “Can you take her home?”
Ariel meekly bobs her head—and I’ve never seen this girl do anything meekly.
“Good,” Nero says and stalks away, leaving me in a fugue of anger, arousal, and confusion.
As he walks, he waves his hand, and the music resumes.
Ariel grips my hand a bit too firmly and pulls me toward the exit.
I follow her like a good sheep.
As we make our way out of the club, I practice a breathing technique Lucretia taught me, but it doesn’t help. Lusting for everything under the sun must be even more stressful than public speaking.
“He did it on purpose,” Ariel says as we cross the street, heading back to the skyscraper. “I know he did.”
“Who?” I look up, gawking at the enormous height of the building. “Did what?”
“Darian.” Ariel pushes the swirling doors so forcefully I have to take care not to get smashed. “Remember when we were wondering why Darian didn’t just prevent your deadly encounter by telling Gaius where to save you? I think I figured out why he was being so indirect. He wanted you to be under the influence of the pheromones, so you’d look at him the way you did when he asked you to dance.”
“How did I look at him?” I hide my eyes by looking around the museum-like lobby.
“Carnally,” Ariel says. Then, in a conspiratorial whisper, she adds, “Though it was nothing compared to the way you looked at Nero.”
Great. “You clearly don’t know my angry face from horny face,” I say to her.
Ariel gives me a smoldering stare full of sexual promise, then chuckles and says, “Was that angry?”
I clear my throat. I’m pretty sure my face lacks the muscles to do what she just did. “You might be right about Darian’s motivations. Remember when you saw me next to him and Kit?”
She nods.
“Well, I didn’t get a chance to tell you at the time, but I caught the two of them making out—with Kit wearing my face.”
“What?” Ariel’s eyes grow to the size of quarters.
“Yeah, I think she tricked him—something about wanting a pet seer or some such. I have no idea. The point is, he fell for it, and as we were dancing, he told me he’s seen a future where we were a unit.”
Her mouth hangs open for a second. Then she asks in a hushed tone, “Do you think he was telling the truth?”
“Why would he lie?” I summon the elevator.
“Maybe he wants to create a self-fulfilli
ng prophecy?” Ariel scratches the back of her head.
“I don’t know. I think I believe him. But that still doesn’t mean the future is going to go that way. As I’ve learned from the few visions I’ve had, knowing what’s going to happen makes it possible to change it—assuming you want to.”
The elevator opens, and Ariel drags me inside. “Do you want a future with Darian?”
“I want a good night’s sleep,” I say and close my tired eyes as though to take a nap right here and now.
When I open my eyes, Ariel is still looking at me expectantly. As the uber-fast elevator opens its doors on the roof, I say, “I barely know Darian. Right now, I’m more interested in him as a seer.”
“No offense, but his being a seer is why you should stay away from him.” Ariel takes the lead, her long-legged strides brisk. “You’re not in control of your life when there are seers around.”
“Do you know any seers besides Darian?” I ask. “I want someone to teach me to upgrade my dream-only visions to day visions.”
“Seers are rare,” Ariel says without turning. “You’re unlikely to find one unless they want to get entangled in your problems, which I guess they don’t, apart from Darian. And an argument could be made that he’s the source of your problems to begin with.”
She reaches the gate that leads to JFK and walks into it without much fanfare.
Even in my current overwhelmed state, the insta-trip from world to world fills me with awe.
We walk in the JFK hub for a few seconds before I check my watch. It’s 4:20 a.m. here on Earth. I’m pretty sure it was earlier at the club.
“Time flows differently in Otherlands,” Ariel says. “You can lose whole days if you’re not careful.”
We walk silently for a few corridors. Then I gather my courage. “So… what’s going on between you and Gaius?”
“We’re friends,” Ariel says, very quickly. “How many times do I have to tell you that?”
A better question is: how many times does Ariel have to tell herself that, assuming she really believes that nonsense?
Examining her closely, I notice that, for whatever reason, she looks strung out. Is she missing her “friend” Gaius, or did she inhale enough of Harper’s fumes to be in a similar boat with me?