“That’s doubtful. Why would someone so comfortable delivering insults catch an unknown girl instead of letting her fall on her face?”
His thigh brushed mine, sending a rush of something tingling through my body. My body did not tingle. Was he doing that to me with his Cool abilities, making me respond to his body for some unaccountable reason? Maybe Camilla had paid him to do it or blackmailed him, except the musician for all his weak Cool blood didn’t seem the type to be easily manipulated.
Maybe awareness of his body had something to do with the nausea. Maybe I needed to engage with members of the opposite sex more often so that when in close proximity I didn’t immediately faint.
He shrugged, sliding his hand over my hip and raising his eyebrow suggestively. “Apparently I’m more of a gentleman than I thought I was.”
“If your hand moves much lower, you won’t be.”
He smiled a slow, sultry smile. “You’ll know the truth: that I’m only being overly familiar to save you from the humiliation of losing consciousness in public.”
“You must be the first altruistic man I’ve ever met. That’s the only reason?”
“When is there ever only one I admit, I have rarely enjoyed being overly familiar with a perfect stranger so much.” He slid his hand from my hip across the bottom of my spine, sending a ripple of panic along with chills.
I bit my lip as I swayed against his chest, gripping his shoulders while I studied the man with stubble on his chin, stubble that destroyed the formality of his necktie. Formality. I would never crash a party. I didn’t need to. Any civilized event that I wished to attend would be more than honored to have me.
“Do you think everyone here was invited, except Camilla and I? It’s not a very formal party.” I glanced over his shoulder where the Jade-eyed Bloodworker had his arms folded across his enormous chest, staring at me. When he’d grabbed my wrist it had felt like he wanted to rip my arm off. I should feel more grateful to the guitarist than I did. He’d saved me from more than humiliation.
The Cool guitarist looked down at me, caught my eye then shook his head slightly. “It’s as formal as anything involving Hotbloods could be. Would you like an invitation? I’m going to a party, May 17th. There will be dancing, drinking, the odd outburst of violence; if it sounds at all appealing, I’d be delighted if you were my date.”
“You’re inviting me to the party I’m already at?” The formality of his words didn’t match the way he held me against him, gazing down at me as though he could read my thoughts. Maybe he could.
“It makes things simple. That way we don’t have to worry about where to meet, if I have to take you to dinner first, or what food allergies you have, if any. I have to warn you though that I’m going to be playing in the band for the first set, so you’ll have to entertain yourself until I finish up.”
I stared at his grayish eyes, wary of him manipulating my emotions, but the only thing out of place seemed to be a slight flicker of amusement I felt. “I thought the whole point of the band was to entertain everybody else. Having to entertain myself while you play for me seems redundant. Of course, so is inviting me to a party I’m already at. Are you always so mind-bogglingly over-efficient?”
He grinned, showing white teeth. “Always. So, do you have any food allergies I should know about?”
“In spite of the fact that you made such a strong point about why you don’t need to know those tedious details, no. I’m not allergic to anything other than party crashing which is why I accept your only slightly belated offer. It’s a date.”
He blinked, as if surprised I would agree instead of insulting him. He cocked his head to the side as he studied me, so close I could see the specks of brown in his eyes. “You don’t seem like the type of woman who needs to rebel against the strictures of her House.”
“You question my inherent need to lose myself from the duties of the House in the arms of a Hotblood? Next you’ll be saying that itinerant musicians aren’t my type.”
“What makes a musician itinerant rather than the garden variety?”
“Perhaps it’s the garden,” I said, nodding to the grounds behind us.
He winced even as he brushed my shoulders with a touch so light, it shouldn’t have made me shiver. “Then it’s good I’m the garden variety. You know, you never told me your name.”
“What’s in a name? A rose by any other name…”
“Rose? I would have thought something a bit bolder like Cressida.”
“Cressida is a bold name? I always thought it sounded like a salad.”
“Salads can be very bold. I’ve faced many a salad which took their imminent absorption without so much as wilting.” He spoke intently, as though how one faced one’s salad was extremely important.
“That’s because you’re Cool and salads like you. All the salads I’ve eaten began boldly but ended limp and pathetic, drowning themselves in dressing before I had the chance to finish them off.”
He wrinkled his nose a little bit. “You’re one of those girls who drowns their salads in dressing?”
“I don’t drown them; they drown themselves.” I shook my head slightly as I realized the sort of conversation we were having while I let my chance to find my brother slip away. “Thank you for not letting me faint on the ground and get trampled to death by the teeming Hotbloods, but you’ll have to excuse me.”
Chapter 3
Helen
I pulled away and felt a wave of nausea that had me struggling to breathe.
“Are you all right?” He sounded genuinely concerned and his sneer vanished as he put his hands on my arms, pulling me back upright and against him.
“Would you rather I apologize before or after I was sick on your shoes?” I looked down and saw that he wasn’t wearing any shoes. What kind of person went to a party without shoes? My own pumps pinched my toes. I’d been wearing the heels for days.
“Take a deep breath,” he murmured once again far too close to me, running his hand down my back. His touch was soothing this time, the way I expected Cools to feel. I found myself relaxing in his arms, soothed by his voice and his touch enough that the nausea faded into something closer to exhaustion.
“This is ridiculous,” I whispered, wanting to laugh or cry. “I’ve never been sick in public.”
“Maybe I should take you to your hotel.”
“No.” I straightened, but trying to move away from him brought back the nausea and dizziness full force. “I have to…” I stared into his concerned eyes and broke off as I felt tears prickling. I couldn’t cry on someone I didn’t know. Then again, who better than someone I didn’t know and would never see again to cry on?
He moved suddenly, whirling me while bending over, close and personal. Before I could push him away, I heard the sound of shattering glass followed by cursing. My partner wove us through the crowd, away from the angry Hotblood demanding who had thrown a perfectly good drink at his head while the band played louder.
“You have very good reflexes.” I hadn’t seen the flying glass coming out of the darkness. Why hadn’t I seen something he’d seen? I had to get out of this place, find somewhere quiet and dark where I could refocus.
“Thank you. Next you’re going to be admiring my courage for attending Hotblood gatherings.”
“The only thing I admire is your lack of intelligence for coming to a Hotblood party in the first place.”
His lips twisted into a smirk. “We stand in mutual admiration.”
“You’re not like most of the Cools I’ve met.”
“Naturally. Hunting demons brings the Nether out in all of us.”
I stared at him, seeing the hardness around his eyes, the edge that made him more than a Cool musician. I needed a Hunter to tell me about my brother. My heart pounded in my throat as I searched for words that wouldn’t put him on his guard.
I swallowed hard. “So you’re here as more than entertainment? What do you do in a Hunting party?”
He frowned
and pulled away slightly. It was my turn to tighten my hands behind his neck to keep him close. “Demons can’t sense those who are with me. It tends to keep my friends alive.”
“How convenient for your friends that you’re willing to Hunt.” I slid my hand up his neck, feeling the skin beneath my fingers, softer than Wild skin to the strands of his soft and silky hair.
He inhaled slightly as his pupils dilated. In a sudden move, he pulled me close as he ducked down behind a large group of Hotbloods.
He’d pressed me against his chest while the sound of shattering glass and angry Hotbloods came from very close. I tried not to notice his heart thudding against mine.
When he pulled away, giving me space to breathe, I asked, “Is someone trying to hit you, or me?”
We moved behind another group of Hotbloods away from the house and into the shadows, arms still wrapped around each other. The attacks weren’t anything really, glass, alcohol, nothing lethal, but for some reason my heart pounded and my veins filled with adrenaline.
He shrugged as he let go of my waist. I stumbled, falling to my knees as the world flipped upside down and I stayed there, trying to breathe and think as drums beat inside my skull. I didn’t faint that time. Eventually I was able to stand, crossing my arms over my chest to hold myself together while I stared at his shadowy features beneath the large oak tree.
“Better?” he asked as I tried to straighten even more.
“Yes, thank-you.” I had to say something, to ask him if he knew my brother, but how could I be subtle while my head felt like someone was beating my brains to pulp?
“Would you like me to find Camilla for you?”
I shook my head, reaching out to put a hand on his arm. As I looked up at him, the color of his eyes lost in shadows I asked, “Do you hunt with any Wilds?”
His lips twisted, but my head wasn’t pounding quite so hard. “Are you volunteering?”
I smiled. “Think how useful I’d be, fainting on demons.”
“Tell me,” he said, moving closer, pressing me back against the rough bark of the tree. “What do you want?”
I gasped as his body pressed against mine, a challenge of the sort I had not been prepared to deal with. I could have fought him, kneed him in the groin and called down lightning, but that wouldn’t help me find out what I needed to know.
“I’m not like Camilla. This isn’t an appropriate position for a Wild girl to be in.”
He bent his head and actually grazed my ear with his lips as he whispered, “If you were like Camilla, it would be me pressed up against the tree instead of you. I’ll ask again. What do you want? I’m feeling rather generous at the moment.”
I opened my mouth, bewildered by the look in his eyes, the heaviness mixed with dark intensity. Before I could say anything, a wave of dizziness had me falling limply against him, my head too heavy to hold up as it lolled on his shoulder.
He sank down, holding me in his arms while I tried to gain control over my idiotic limbs.
“Have you drunken anything lately from questionable sources?” he asked, holding me on his lap.
I tried to push away from him, but I only ended up patting his chest. I felt like the world had turned upside down and I was sliding off. “I don’t know. I felt dizzy earlier, in the club when I saw Camilla.”
He leaned me forward with his hand holding my head, like being bent in half over my knees would help me breathe.
“Camilla could slip you any number of exciting elements, but I don’t think that’s what this is.” He brushed my hair out of my face while he helped me straighten. The dizziness disappeared for a moment and I felt completely fine, only completely not fine because I was on the lap of a Cool musician instead of finding my brother. I didn’t want to move, not when I’d probably fall on my face, but I hadn’t come all this way to give up.
I looked at him, studying his eyes. Could I trust him, a musician Hunter? I didn’t have any other Hunters holding me on their laps. “I wish I knew your name. It’s hard to trust you when I don’t know anything about you.”
He shifted and my headache immediately rebounded. I put a hand to my forehead wincing as I tried to breathe through the renewed nausea.
“I really think you should lie down somewhere dark,” he said. The words were concerned, but the tone and the fingers that trailed across my cheek sent a different message through my body.
I shivered and grabbed his fingers. “I’ll be fine. I only need a moment. Tell me who is throwing drinks at us? Is it the Bloodworker taking it out on the party crasher, or is it a scorned woman you’ve left behind?”
He sighed, leaning against the tree while looking down at me. “I am the one drawing the attack. If you’d like, I’ll leave, drawing fire while you escape. I’m a very dangerous person to be friends with.”
I swallowed, for some reason unwilling to drop his hand. “I thought that you protected your friends.”
He leaned closer until his cheek brushed mine, his stubble rough against my skin. “Only from demons.” His words were barely more than whisper, his breath skimming over my hair like a cool breeze. I shivered even as I tried to maintain control. He acted as though he were aware of me, resting his eyes a little too long on my mouth, as though he were wondering how I would taste. I swallowed the vivid image I had of his skin against mine. I had to focus.
“Do you work with many Americans?”
His mouth twisted with amusement. Why did I find the contours of his lips so fascinating? Maybe because his mouth looked so soft, compared to his rough skin. “Wild Americans? Like you?”
I blinked as I realized how apparent I’d become. He’d distracted me more than I’d distracted him. “Yes,” I finally said, giving up on discreet. I reached up to smooth his hair away from his eyes. “I know that Hunters don’t like interference from Houses. I’m not here to interfere; I swear it.”
“The person who is throwing drinks at me is a hot-tempered Hunter that would be able to help you,” he said, catching my hand in his and pressing a kiss against my knuckles that left me dizzy and gasping, or maybe it was him standing, pulling me to my feet with him.
I licked lips that were suddenly dry as I wondered if I could trust him. “I’m Helen,” I said impulsively, putting out a hand as though we were at a Wild function instead of beneath the spread of an oak tree.
“Matthew,” he said, barely brushing my hand with his, but the awareness of the touch, the rise and fall of dizziness, left me breathing hard as I leaned against the tree, struggling to stay upright.
“So, I’ll go find the Hunter, then.” I said and with a deep breath, I peered around the tree, studying the layout of the yard, the groups of Hotbloods and where they’d been and where the projectile must have come from. I couldn’t see any Hunter with full glasses, watching for Matthew. The projectiles probably came from the balcony where people milled around, none of them looking particularly volatile, but who could tell?
I turned back to Matthew. “I have an idea. You’ll probably think it’s insane.”
He smiled a slow smile that made my heart beat a little faster. “I am partial to whimsical notions.”
“I’ve heard of Cools that could bend reality, making someone see something other than what’s there. Do you think you could dance with someone, someone you made appear like me?”
I blushed as I spoke, feeling like I was discussing a ‘cunning plan’, like the ‘cunning plan’ when I was fourteen, home during a school break while I tried to convince my brother Stanley to help me sneak into the cabinet at the bottom of the stairs. That plan had landed him in the hospital with a broken leg. He’d gotten off easily though. He didn’t have to face the weight of my father’s disappointment.
The musician nodded. “I could most certainly create a diversion with your sister the dryad,” he said nodding up into the tree.
I stared up into the dark branches as he reached up with his long arm, but the closest branch was out of his reach. I smiled as I realized what he
planned. I slipped off my heels, sighing a little as I wiggled my toes in the grass then put my foot on the knee he bent for me. I rose as he boosted me up with his hands clasped together. I tried not to think what it would look like if anyone from my world saw me like this, climbing a tree with a random Hunter. It was hard to think of anything as I felt his breath on my body when he lifted me higher. He held me closer than I’d ever been to anyone who wasn’t related to me, but of course it meant nothing, not when I was the Daughter of a House and he was an itinerant Cool musician, or had we decided he was a garden musician?
I gasped, trying to maintain my balance in spite of dizziness. He wasn’t strong like my brothers and weaved a little bit like a tree in a breeze holding me up. I grabbed a handful of his hair, making him grunt before I took aim and leapt, grabbing a branch that held me for a moment before it cracked and split. He tried to catch me, but I only knocked him down, landing on top of him covered in twigs and leaves.
“You killed it,” he gasped with a ragged laugh while he tried to breathe around where my knee was in his stomach. His breath was on my neck as I lay sprawled over him. He put a hand on my knee to push it out of his gut, startling me with a touch that sent a rush of something unnamable through me that had me needing to move away, to safety, but also to stay exactly where I was with twigs jabbing into my thigh.
“Maybe it’s too violent for you, desecration of trees and all that.” I smothered a laugh as I tried to get all of this back under control.
“Pruning is the International Cool pastime.” He smiled at me while his eyes sparkled, silvery and alive as his voice.
I shivered harder as I smiled back at him. I held out a hand. He took it, the feel of his palm against mine a tactile sensation I tried to analyze. He had cold skin that vibrated at a nearly immeasurable level, energy that worked its way through my skin, travelling through neurons up my arm until I felt goose-bumps run down my spine. It didn’t actually mean anything, so why was it so hard for me to let go of that hand? He didn’t move away as we stood there while shivers spread through me in time to my pulse. My breathing grew more rapid until with a start I pulled away from him, crossing my arms over my chest.
House of Slide: Wilds, Part I Page 3