by Hati Bell
***
“Perhaps I was wrong about you, fireball,” Logan said as he handed a glass of whiskey to Matteo.
They were watching Amber dancing on the bar. In her bra.
“No doubt, but how so?”
“You’re helping two doomed lovebirds, while you want her yourself.” It had surprised him when Matteo had called Drake to pick up Amber.
Matteo’s lips quirked into a smile. “Doomed, you say? Drake is no Romeo. He would rather let the world bleed and live on as a shadow of his former self than kill himself. Also, I am not a puny human, so you should know that I would never have the motives of a mortal.”
There it was. The arrogant contraction-challenged arse whom he’d gotten to know. “Are you telling me you’re not as altruistic as you seem? Shocker.”
“Altruism was made up by mortals and is not part of my job description. The last time a phoenix did anything for free was when Rome got sacked by the barbarians. Oh, and when we gave Nero a hand to burn down the Eternal City.”
“Just a little hand, I assume?”
“Of course. Petty human problems are beneath us. Rome was the exception. Never before existed a city so decadent that even phoenixes were drawn to its grandeur. Too bad Nero was hooked on opium and thought himself the reincarnation of Zeus. Which he was not. He was as mortal as a one-day fly.” He cocked a brow. “As mortal as Drake Kincaid.”
“So that’s your brilliant idea? You’re just going to wait until Drake dies of old age so you get the girl?”
Matteo swirled his glass. “I always get the girl.”
“The girl looks green,” Logan noticed. Amber had climbed off the bar and was walking somewhat unsteadily towards the toilets.
“Baby phoenixes can not handle alcohol. A few drops is all it takes to get intoxicated. Unfortunately she will get sober just as quickly, with a hell of a hangover. I could have told her that, but I thought it would stick longer with her if she found out herself.” He didn’t sound the least bit worried.
“Someone should go with her to hold her hair back or something.” Logan had just bought new shoes. Vomit stains and suede were a bad combo.
Matteo looked down at his own shoes. “Yes. Someone.”
They both remained standing.
TWENTY-ONE
Amber’s head felt too heavy for her body, like a bowling ball balancing on top of a toothpick. She put a hand on the wall in the corridor leading towards the toilets and took a deep breath. The world was one big blurry maze of smells, colors, and shapes passing her by. She heard the clatter of people rushing near her, laughing, talking about getting another drink. Her stomach heaved at the thought of another cocktail.
Never again.
If she slowly put one foot in front of the other she could make it to the bathroom before she would decorate the floor with her vomit. Just one foot in front of the other.
Someone bumped against her hip and she rocked back and forth before she regained her balance. She looked up, ready to confront whoever it was, but all she saw was a blurry shadow.
“Having a rough night, tree-hugger?”
Jade. She would recognize that snide voice anywhere. Even when all she could make out of the dragon was a shadow. It had been a long time since someone had called her a tree-hugger. Nowadays people were more worried about her fiery nature.
“Nope, I’m doing great, Jade,” she lied. Just peachy.
A mocking laugh was her answer. “Sure, I can see that. Though you don’t seem as great as Drake was doing last night when he was here.”
The image those words conjured up in her mind hurt. Before she could come up with a comeback, Jade’s shadow had sauntered off. Amber continued walking and saw a long line before the toilet. She was never going to make it. Another deep breath to calm her stomach and then she spun around, towards the staff entrance. Internally fuming about Jade’s spiteful words she opened the back door and stepped into the crisp outdoor air.
The empty alley behind the Oasis was covered with gravel, and only illuminated by a single lamppost. She slowly walked up to the bundle of light, her toe bumping into something. Judging from the awful smell wafting from it, it was a dumpster. Her stomach lurched and she buckled over, vomiting. At least the pressure on her head disappeared after that. She pulled a handkerchief from her purse and swiped it over her mouth as she stumbled on.
She dropped her purse on the ground and leaned against the lamppost. Her confrontation with Jade had opened old wounds. Surely she didn’t have to worry about her. Amber knew Drake loved her. Not that he’d ever told her. Why hadn’t he? Still, the vision of Jade and Drake didn’t mean anything. Then why was she afraid to ask him about it?
Faey was wrong. Alcohol had not drowned her worries. Her worries could float.
She closed her eyes so the world would stop spinning. Just for a second. The sound of a tin can rolling past her disturbed her buzz.
Her eyes shot open when someone put hands on her. Before she could utter a sound she was yanked away like trash.
She rolled over the ground and banged her back against the wall. Sharp chunks of gravel bit into her palms and then sliced her legs. Her left knee protested but she forced herself to get up. She could make out a tall, shadowy figure beneath the lamp before the light bulb was shattered.
An image of her nightmare flashed through her mind and her heart rate spiked. She pressed her back against the wall. It was the first thing Faey had taught her; protect your back. She took on a defensive pose, while trying to spare her left knee.
Had Jade followed her? She blinked, trying to make something of the figure before the lamp, but it was so dark. Being intoxicated didn’t exactly help either.
“Jade, is that you?”
No reaction.
Her gut told her the shadow was not Jade. The dragon wasn’t the type to keep her mouth shut as she tormented her.
Amber looked beyond the shade. He was standing between her and the Oasis’ back entrance. She tentatively stepped towards the entrance.
It was a mistake.
Footsteps over the gravel and then a smack right in her gut. Pain shot through her stomach and she buckled over. Blood was pounding in her ears. She managed to block the next hit with her arm.
The shadow retreated and just stood a few feet away. Standing. Watching. Contemplating its next move.
“Who are you? What do you want from me?”
Obviously he wasn’t a human. He was simply too fast for that. A voice in her head urged her on to call Matteo. He was merely one telepathic call away. But the second he showed up, her attacker would disappear. She’d be forced to continuously watch over her shoulder.
She was sick and tired of having to live in fear.
We are all alone.
Faey had a point. This was her problem. Someone was after her and she’d make sure he’d regret it. Wasn’t this what she’d been training for all those hours? If things went south, she still had Matteo as a backup.
The shadow came after her again. He rushed forward like some giant fist and once again she got smashed against the wall. This time standing, though she didn’t know for how much longer. She had a feeling things were going to take a turn for the worst.
Unfortunately she was right.
Every time she tried to move he came at her again, like a bulldozer. What followed were direct hits to her stomach, kicks against her legs, a punch against her jaw. She was hurting all over and could barely stand up right anymore.
And all that time, he didn’t utter a freaking word.
He punched her in the face and she tasted blood on her lips. He seemed to enjoy swatting her against the wall as if she was a fly. It took a few more raids before she figured out his rhythm and could anticipate his next move.
Her training finally took over, blocking the hits effectively. She vowed never to lose her patience with Faey again. Her heart was racing, clearing out the alcohol in her blood. Her attacker slithered back a few steps once more. What was he waiting
for? Why was he hiding in the dark?
“Coward! Show me your face!”
The longer he remained silent, the more pissed off she got. Her internal fire which seemed close to the surface heated up her skin. Sparks shot up from her fingers. Hardly enough to light a match, but it gave her an adrenaline boost and for a second there she felt powerful.
Right then the door behind the shadow opened. Light poured into the alleyway as one of the bartenders of the Oasis stepped outside with a smoke.
Amber blinked. The shadow had disappeared. She was shaking on her legs when the adrenaline left her body. She let out a deep sigh and leaned back against the wall. She was still standing. Never before had she felt so empowered. Knowing that she could hold her own made her feel ten feet tall.
She crouched down to find her purse and send a message to Drake.
***
Drake picked up Amber’s blouse from the bar. He ignored Logan’s smirk and Lancaster’s smug smile. Apparently they found Amber walking around somewhere half-naked amusing. Fuckers.
“Where is she?”
“Ladies’ room,” his brother said. “She looked greenish.”
“And you just let her go in there alone?”
“I can’t go in there. It’s the ladies’ room. I’m no lady.”
Drake snorted. They both knew Logan was no stranger to a lady’s room. “Can’t go in there? Really?”
Logan rolled his eyes. “Not without an invite,” he clarified.
“Unworthy of a gentleman,” Lancaster agreed. “Though you are no gentleman either. Even though—unlike Kincaid—you are dressed as one.” His scrutinizing look went from Logan’s slacks and dress jacket to Drake’s jeans and tee.
Drake couldn’t care less about his opinion. He was a jeans and t-shirt kind of guy. Silk shirts and dress jackets were lost on him. He held Amber’s blouse up. “And how do you explain this?” Their eyes shot to a table with a woman dancing on top of it. He remembered seeing her before, at the phoenix party. She was wearing a black bra and hot pants.
“Dagabar from Moldavia has started a new tradition,” Logan declared, sounding appreciative. “Your girl was just following her example.”
“Dagmar from the Carolingian Empire,” Lancaster corrected him.
“Carolingian, Cuban, Colombian, it’s all good with me,” Logan said. “You’re missing the big picture. The more women dance topless, the happier the men are. Happy men drink more and buy women drinks. The more drinks we sell, the bigger the profit. The bigger the profit, the higher my bonus.”
“How much did she drink exactly?” Drake wanted to know.
Logan lifted a finger. “Just one. Did you know baby phoenixes can’t handle their liquor?”
No, he hadn’t. After giving them a final glare he walked to the ladies' room. There was a line outside. Amber was nowhere to be found. He grabbed his phone and saw her message to meet him outside.
He went outside, into the alley behind the back entrance. It was pitch-dark out here. The only light was provided by the light bulb by the door, which didn’t reach far. Still, he spotted her right away, leaning against a wall, looking a bit unstable on her feet.
“Hey love, you okay?”
“Drake?” She pushed away from the wall and started walking towards the door.
He froze when she stood in the light. She was a mess. Her cheek swollen, eye bruised, lips split, blood at the corner of her mouth. And if he wasn’t mistaken, she was favoring her left leg. He dropped the blouse and ran passed her, scourging both ends of the alley. It was abandoned. He spun around and carefully took her in his arms, walking over to the back entrance, placing her on the steps. He didn’t have to ask what happened. There was only one thing he wanted to know.
“Who was it?”
She groaned and folded a hand over her left knee. “No idea. I went outside to get some fresh air. I closed my eyes for a minute when someone threw me against the wall. It was a shadow.”
“A shadow?”
A blush crept up her neck. “I don’t know what was in my drink, but I got buzzed really fast. All I could see was a blur attacking me. He disappeared when someone came outside for a smoke.”
He rubbed her arms when she started to shake. Her skin was so soft and also cold. Somehow he didn’t think this was the time to tell her she had on only a bra. “We’ll find him.”
She nodded. “At least we now know he’s a supe. He was as fast as a dryad or dragon.”
“Or maybe he was tracing like a phoenix,” he mused. “Where the hell is Matteo anyway?”
“I didn’t… um… call him.”
A silence stretched between them. He pinched the bridge of his nose, telling himself to keep it cool and collected. “You didn’t call for him?”
“Didn’t need to,” she chirped, actually sounding excited. “I protected my back with the wall, just like Faey taught me. Though I can’t sting like a bee yet, I did dance like a butterfly. I held my own.”
She sounded so proud, but something dark, an old fear, seeped from his soul and nestled around his heart like a vise.
He got up on his feet, towering over her. “Have you even considered that he could’ve easily grabbed you and traced you away? Have you even considered I could’ve never found you again?”
Finally, a dose of fear appeared in her eyes.
“No,” she said. “I hadn’t considered it could be a phoenix.”
He felt he was about to lose control. His hands changed into claws. “You should have called Matteo the second you sensed danger. You know, like you promised me.” What use was their telepathic connection if she didn’t use it when she needed him?
“I don’t want you to fight my battles for me,” she said softly.
In the dark night her voice had the effect of a cannonball. The shards exploded in his chest. “What did you just say?”
She rubbed her arms and lifted her chin. “You heard me.”
He narrowed his eyes, barely holding in a snarl. “I thought your fights and my fights were our fights. I thought we were a team.”
“If we are a team, then why haven’t you invited me to the opening tonight?”
“What?” He knew she was getting at something, but he was distracted by the faint red covering the rim of her eyes.
“Didn’t you want me here, since Jade works here now? I saw you two together.”
It took some effort to focus on her words—her accusation, actually. “I didn’t plan to come here tonight.” He’d been hunting after information on Crassus’ son, Hector, when Matteo had called him. “I was trying to find a way to keep you out of Crassus’ clutches.”
The red around her eyes vanished, and she blinked a few times, looking contrite. But it was too late. He had blood on his hands because of her. A stain on his soul he could never erase. She was the first and last thought on his mind every day, and she didn’t consider them a team. She didn’t deserve to be reassured about Jade.
“Drake… I…”
“Guess I was wrong, love,” he cut her off. “We’re no team. Also, you may think you bested your attacker tonight, but you’re wrong.” He put a hand on her throat and pressed. Not hard enough to hurt her but just enough to make his point. Her eyes widened but she didn’t move an inch. “If I wanted, I could easily snap your neck. If a phoenix had wanted, he could have traced you away.” He saw that it finally began to dawn on her.
“He played with me,” she whispered. “He doesn’t want to kill me right away. He wants me to suffer before he buries me alive.”
“Bingo.” He let go of her and stepped back. She paled, but he couldn’t find it in him to comfort her. He pulled out his phone and called Lancaster. “Your promesi’s at the back door. She needs to go to the hospital.” He ended the called and put his phone away.
An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. He tried to rein in his anger, to be reasonable, but failed. She’d done it again. “I can live with you staying under the roof of another man. I can live with
him giving you things that I can’t give you. I can even live with the fact that you have a connection with him that I can never have with you. What I can’t live with is you willingly putting yourself in danger. Again. And the fact that you have so little respect for your own life that you are willing to risk dying. This time perhaps for good.”
He heard the door creak open behind him. From the corner of his eyes he saw Lancaster approach. “I refuse to mourn you again.”
He walked away without looking back.
TWENTY-TWO
Amber eyed the long white dress that Benedict had draped over her arms. It looked like something out of a Greek costume drama. “Are you sure this is the right dress code? A dress from Gladiator?”
Benedict walked around in a vintage red Hugh Hefner-style robe, his hamster peeking out from his front pocket. He looked in some boxes until he found a maroon velvet dress jacket. He took the bowler hat from his head and put it upside down on an antique table. The table stood in the middle of the ballroom and was surrounded by dozens of boxes and crates which seemed to have exploded all over the room.
“You can’t just wear any dress,” he claimed. “It has to be special, since it’s your introduction to the phoenix world. Walking around like a Roman peasant will just not do.” He seemed horrified at the thought.
“Why would I walk around like a peasant?” Also, what would be wrong with that?
He put his hamster in his hat and started rummaging through the boxes again until he found a hat with a long feather. “Not just a peasant. A Roman peasant,” he said and put the hat back.
Talking to Benedict was sometimes tiring. “Why would I—”
“Crassus is a Roman,” he said, as if that explained everything.