He did it carefully, almost cautiously, leading her out onto the dance floor.
She didn’t fight him.
He had no idea why.
But she didn’t fight him.
Chapter 5
Dance Floor
He walked her halfway across the room.
He practically felt her fury and confusion through her fingertips where he held her lightly with his, but she didn’t try to pull away. He made it easy as hell for her to pull away, to simply remove her hand from his, to leave him there.
She didn’t.
She followed him as if he’d handcuffed himself to her.
He found himself standing in the middle of the dance floor, right as the band started up with a new song. It was another one he vaguely remembered from going dancing with his friend Angel in San Francisco.
“What are you doing, Nick?” she said.
He met her gaze, only to find her staring at him in bewilderment, and now with emotion in her eyes. He looked away from the emotion, sliding his hand around the top of her back, just under her shoulder blade.
Pulling her closer gently, he clasped his other hand in hers, gripping her maybe too tightly. It struck him as he did that he felt human with her.
He felt way too fucking human with her.
Maybe that was the real problem with the two of them.
Maybe that was the real problem with him.
Or maybe, with her, he just remembered far too much about what being human had been like. He remembered how much he’d lost, when he was with her.
“Nick,” she said again, softer. “What are you doing?”
“Maybe I just couldn’t stand to watch him butcher another attempt at salsa,” he growled.
She blinked, then frowned. “What?”
“It’s eight steps,” he said. “Two are pauses.”
“What?” she said again, staring up at him in disbelief.
He couldn’t bear to look at her fucking eyes, though, either.
Gripping her tighter, he stepped forward.
She stepped back, but with the wrong foot.
“Right for you,” he said, correcting her. “You start on the right foot. I start on the left. I step forward. You step back.”
“Nick—”
“You looked like you wanted to learn. Am I wrong?”
She frowned up at him.
Then, seeming to think about his words, she scowled.
“No,” she said finally.
“So… listen to me,” he said. “This is a heavy-lead dance. Do you know what I mean by that? It means you have to follow the lead, or it doesn’t work. So follow me, okay? You try to control things, and nothing will work right—”
She let out a humorless laugh. “No wonder you know how to do this.”
He bit back a scowl.
Forcing his expression still, he shook his head, once.
“At least I’m trying to dance with you,” he said. “Not just stare at your tits and try to feel you up, pretending it’s part of the lesson.”
“Don’t start, Nick,” she warned.
Rather than answer her, he motioned towards her with his chin. “Put your hand on my shoulder, Wynter. Rest your arm on my arm. Then relax.”
She did as he said.
That time, he felt both of them react to the contact.
When he stepped forward that time, she stepped back with the right foot, following him with the music. He counted the first series of steps for her.
“Eight steps. Okay? One, two, three… pause… five, six, seven… pause.” He waited for her to follow it with his eyes a few more times. Already, she was moving with him, her living light, or aleimi, as the seers called it, merging into him tangibly.
He could feel some of that was instinctive with her; she did it in part to try and pick the dance steps up off him, to learn.
He was already getting hard.
“Okay,” he said, after she was getting the hang of it. “Now lower your center of gravity. Get out of your head, Wynter… look at me. Stop looking at your feet.”
Her eyes shifted up, and he felt his throat tighten.
“Good,” he said, forcing a nod. “Shift your weight more with each step. It’s all hips and lower body. Just let your upper body float. When I push forward, step back. When I pull lightly, step forward.”
He felt her fall more into the motion of his body, following the music. Feeling her light grow even more tangible around him, he closed his eyes, longer than a blink.
“All right. Try it sideways now,” he said, after a few minutes more. “Just follow my hand and weight when I pull you sideways… same exact step, okay?”
He brought her with him and she moved easily, following him.
She started to look down, but he shook his head.
“Don’t look at your feet, Wynter. Look at me.”
Those stunning eyes of hers flickered up.
He saw confusion in them now, even as she moved with him.
Confusion hit him, too, intensely enough that he struggled with his own mind, with whatever it was he was doing right now.
What the fuck was he doing?
She was here with someone else.
She was on a date with another fucking vampire.
She’d probably already let the son of a bitch feed on her.
She probably couldn’t wait to ask him, after Nick turned her down on that front. No other vampire would say no like he had… for any reason. Not a single damned one. Especially after they got that first whiff of hybrid blood.
Especially after they smelled the seer in her.
The thought made his teeth clench more, even as he closed his eyes.
“You want to try a turn?” he asked her after a few more seconds. “A dance turn. They’re easy, and you’re a natural at this. You’re already getting it, and I’ve barely—”
“Nick.” She sounded at a loss. “What are we doing? What are you doing?”
“You looked like you wanted to learn.”
Her jaw hardened.
That perfect, delicate jawline grew more pronounced, and he stared at it briefly, unable to help himself. His eyes rose slowly, tracing the outline of her lips, then her cheekbones and ears, the curl of her thick hair, until he looked up the rest of the way, meeting her gaze. When his eyes locked with hers, it was clear she’d been watching him look at her.
She frowned, that confusion on her face more pronounced.
“I kind of want to punch you in the face,” she said when their eyes remained locked.
“You say that like that’s something new,” he said. “You want to try the turn, Wynter?”
She bit her lip, and he gripped her tighter.
“It’s easy,” he said, his voice calm, surprisingly calm, even to him. “Again, just follow me. I’ll step to the side, then you just follow the steps I showed you… only use them to turn in the space I leave you. I’ll guide you with my hand. It doesn’t have to be perfect. Just follow the music, and me… and do what feels natural.”
She fell back into a rhythm with him.
He watched her hips in his periphery, getting turned on again as she fell into it even more, growing softer in his arms. He felt her light in him, deeper than before, and found himself looking away, avoiding her eyes.
When he stepped aside, holding up his hand for her to turn, she followed the pressure of his guiding hand, the movement of his feet, turning in front of him. He pulled her back to him when she completed the turn, and she smiled, as if surprised.
“I told you, you’re a natural.” He glanced down her, telling himself he was just assessing her form. “You move well,” he observed. “That moron you’re with just didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. If he did, you would be dancing as well as half the people in here by now.”
She rolled her eyes at his words, the smile still playing at her lips.
“Not that you’re jealous or anything,” she muttered.
His jaw hardened.
“I want to fucking kill him, Wynter.”
The words came out of him without thought, without anything approaching thought.
After he’d said them, he regretted them, but it was too late, so he only stared at her when she turned. He kept his expression flat, unmoving, as she studied his face.
Her eyes remained faintly puzzled, as if she doubted what she’d heard.
Then she seemed to realize she had heard it.
“You left me, Nick,” she snapped. “Did you forget? You ended it. Not me. You. You wouldn’t even fucking discuss it—”
“I know,” he cut in.
“So what the hell are you doing right now?” she said. “What is this? You might as well be pissing on my leg right now, Naoko—”
“Maybe I should,” he growled, staring down at her. “Maybe I should piss on your fucking leg.”
At her disbelieving look, his growl grew deeper.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Wynter? I tell you to stay away from me because I’m a vampire. I tell you I can’t date you because I’m a vampire… because vampires are fucking dangerous for you. And your solution to that is… what? Find another goddamned vampire to bring into your bed? One who won’t be particularly ethical about feeding on you?”
“This isn’t any of your business, Nick,” she snapped, glaring up at him, even as she followed his hands and weight, sliding into another turn in front of him, that time, snapping around faster, in time to the music and his guiding hands.
He watched her hips slide under the dress, and clenched his jaw.
“—You decided that!” she finished at the end of the turn. “You decided it, Nick. You have no right to say a damned thing to me about who I date!”
“Where did you even meet this asshole?” Nick growled. “Or did you come down to the city with the express goal of picking one of us up? Head on over to the trendiest vampire feeding hole you could find… like the rest of the fucking groupies… dressed like that.”
He glared at her dress, at the V-neckline that showed off her throat, her breasts, and most of her bare shoulders.
“…with as much fucking neck showing as you could possibly manage,” he growled. “Was that your plan, Wynter? Come in as virgin vamp bait? Get me back for trying to protect you by offering your wrist to the first fanged moron you could find?”
She jerked out of his arms.
Before he’d wrapped his mind around the expression on her face—
She slapped him. Hard.
He didn’t even avert his gaze.
He went utterly still instead, fighting to remain in place.
Every muscle in his body tensed.
It took him another second to realize his fangs were fully extended. His eyes were probably dark red, or close to it. He stared at her, both of them standing in the middle of the dance floor. By now, the other couples were giving them a wide berth, dancing around them as he and Wynter faced off, almost like they were in the ring.
She was breathing hard, her eyes overly bright.
“You’re a piece of shit,” she snapped.
“I know,” he growled.
“What are you even doing here?” she burst out, hitting him in the chest with her fist that time. “The first goddamned date I’ve been on, and you show up? What the hell is that, Nick? Am I supposed to believe that’s a coincidence?”
He flinched.
Then he shook his head, jaw clenched.
Before he could find words, she snapped,
“Are you following me, Nick? Have your police drones been keeping tabs on me? Is that what we are now? The psychologically fucked-up vampire who refuses to commit… who pretends to be the good guy, but who is perfectly fine with stalking the woman he loves? Threatening the life of any guy who makes the mistake of going out with her?”
His jaw hardened more.
He opened his mouth.
Then he closed it.
His mind spun around her, around her words, around the fury in her too-bright eyes. He’d forgotten this. He’d forgotten what she could do to his goddamned head, how badly she could confuse him, seemingly in a matter of seconds.
He’d forgotten what an asshole he turned into when it happened.
He stared at her, lost for words.
He wanted to tell her she was full of shit, that she was delusional, that she’d always been delusional about him. He wanted to tell her she was wrong. He wanted to tell her she was wrong about him, about them, about what they were… about how he felt.
He didn’t, though.
“Wynter—”
“And I’m supposed to believe you’ve just been celibate all this time? Right?” she said, her voice rising in anger, even as it broke.
She hit at him again, and he took a step back, his jaw clenching.
He averted his gaze, but didn’t manage it for long.
As soon as her voice rose, he found himself staring at her again.
“I suppose you’ve just been drinking blood bags these past few weeks.” Her jaw clenched harder, jutting out that delicate bone. “I suppose you came here tonight just to hang with Jordan, right? With all of those groupies throwing themselves at you after every fight? Must be nice to be famous, Nick. Must make things really fucking easy for you—”
“Not really,” he growled.
She swung at him again.
That time, he captured her wrists, doing it without thought.
He didn’t know if he kissed her first… or if she kissed him.
He might have kissed her.
He really might have kissed her.
Thinking back on it, he was pretty sure it was him.
All he knew for sure was, he blinked… then one of his hands was clenched in her hair, even as his other arm wrapped around her waist. His mouth was on hers, hard from the beginning, but slow, deliberate, the way he knew she liked to be kissed.
He slowed more as he fell into it, gripping her tighter against him the longer they kissed, until she went soft in his arms. She was kissing him back, making soft sounds, and he fought not to bite her, groaning when her tongue flickered over his fangs and lips.
Coiling his fingers tighter into her hair, he pulled her head and neck back, even as he would have nipped at her lips and tongue. He kissed her throat instead, pressing his fangs against her skin without letting himself bite her there, either.
He felt her frustration.
He felt his own frustration, too.
His frustration worsened, growing in intensity the longer he kissed her bare skin. It had never been this bad before, even with her. He couldn’t help thinking about how long it had been since he’d fed on anyone.
Meaning an actual person.
It had been months.
Before then, it had been weeks…
No. It hadn’t. It’d been months that time, too.
Fury slid through him when he remembered the vampire she’d come here with.
God. What was he doing?
He’d fixed this.
He’d fixed it.
It had been hard as hell, but he’d finally done the right thing.
He’d been struggling to move on from it, sure—but he’d gotten her away from him. That was step one. He would have gone back to live feeds eventually. Hell, the thought of feeding on an actual person lingered in the back of his mind even tonight, as soon as Morley told him to come here. He might have acted on it, too, if Jordan hadn’t come here with him.
…if Wynter’s hadn’t been the first face he really looked at when he walked through the door.
The opposite argument rose in him even stronger, though.
Who the fuck was he kidding?
He hadn’t moved on.
He’d hadn’t come close to moving on.
Anyway, how was he helping anything—how was he helping her—if she was just going to find a different vampire to fuck and let feed on her?
The thought brought up an irrational rage.
The emotion was intense enough,
for a few seconds he couldn’t think past it. He drew away from her throat and lips, staring down at her face, at those stunning, blue-green irises.
He didn’t let her go, and she was breathing hard, still soft in his arms.
He didn’t notice the other vampire standing there until he spoke.
“What the fuck is this?” the blond vampire said.
Nick and Wynter turned, their heads and necks swiveling as one.
Nick still didn’t let her go.
“Walk away,” he told the vampire.
“Nick!” Wynter shoved at his chest, scowling as she disentangled his hold, stepping back and out of his arms. “You don’t get to say that!”
Nick turned, staring at her.
He was already angry.
It took him a second longer to realize it was because she’d stepped away from him, because she was no longer touching him.
“Then you say it,” he growled, staring at her. “Tell him to walk away, Wynter.”
“Why the hell would I do that?”
Nick struggled with how to answer that, when his headset pinged in his ear.
Until the instant he heard Jordan’s voice, Nick had more or less forgotten why he’d come to the club in the first place.
“Hey,” the human said, his voice carefully neutral. “You done letting your ex-girlfriend beat the shit out of you? ‘Cause the architect’s here, Midnight. You know. The reason we came? Straven. He just walked past the bar.”
Nick scowled, glancing at Wynter, then at the blond vampire.
Jordan kept talking.
“…He went into one of the private rooms. He’s got a whole entourage with him, but the bartender waved him over when he passed by the bar. He says he’ll talk to us more or less privately, whenever we’re ready.”
Jordan paused, his voice growing a touch harder.
“After he left, the bartender warned me we’d better hurry. There’s a good chance he’ll be too high to give us much that’s reliable if we don’t get in there pretty soon. Guy likes his mind-altering substances, apparently.”
Hearing the question at the end of that, Nick glanced at the bar.
“All right. On my way.” He paused, then added, “What’s more or less?”
“What?”
“You said we’d talk to Straven privately ‘more or less.’ What does that mean?”
The Prescient: A Science Fiction Vampire Detective Novel (Vampire Detective Midnight Book 3) Page 9