Wicked (A Wicked Saga #1)(43)
Author: J. Lynn

"Damn, girl." He straightened, gripping the door. "That right there is what fantasies are made of."

Blood poured into my cheeks, and I was grateful it was dark out. Muttering a curse under his breath, he closed the door and jogged around the front of the truck. Once inside, he cranked the engine and soft music hummed out of the speakers. As he pulled away from the curb, I realized he was listening to an old Hank Williams’ song.

I turned to him slowly.

He smiled crookedly. "Don’t knock the music, sweetness. We’re off to such a great start tonight. I’d hate to have to kick you out of the truck."

I snorted but didn’t say anything as we made the trip into the business district. Since it was Saturday night, the streets were packed and we ended up having to park in a garage two blocks down from Flux.

Ren stopped me as we walked out of the shadowy garage. "Are you ready for this?"

The question humored me. "Are you?"

He grinned. "I’m ready for anything and everything."

What he said came across as meaning a hell of a lot more than what we were about to do, and it brought that reckless feeling to the surface, as if I was standing at the edge of a cliff with one foot dangling off the precipice.

There wasn’t much time to really think about that. We were at the club, and I needed to focus on what we were doing. A human male worked the front door, checking IDs, but he appeared to be more interested in the way we looked than how old we were or who we were.

He eyed us like we were cows being auctioned off.

"Have fun," he said, voice sounding like he’d swallowed nails as he handed our IDs back to us.

Tiny hairs rose along my arms as we crossed the deep blue carpet in front of the tinted black double doors. The low, melodic thump of music drifted outside. The door opened before we reached it. Another human male, brawny and rough looking with a shaved head, had opened it.

Ren’s hand settled at the small of my back as we stepped inside. I wasn’t scared, and I probably should’ve been, but curiosity was the reigning emotion as I got my first look at the club trolled by ancients.

It looked so incredibly normal, like any upscale club in any large city. Lit with low, flattering lights, there were a lot of dark areas full of shadow-shaped people at the fringe of a large, slightly raised dance floor. On the other side was a long bar with brighter lights showing off the line of high priced liquors. A spiral staircase was near the bar, leading to a second floor. From our vantage point, I could see couches and roped off areas.

But as we walked further in, I began to make out more of the details of those in the shadowy enclaves surrounding the dance floor and the high tables.

I gaped as I stood on the polished floors.

There were mortals in those shadows, their bodies entwined together on the lush couches, a flash of hands moving and glimpses of flesh. But there weren’t just mortals. There were fae among them. Their pale blue eyes shined eerily bright in the low light, their skin a beautiful shade of silver. Their hands and bodies moved among the mortals.

Ren lowered his mouth to my ear. "You see what I’m seeing?"

I nodded, unable to speak. My skin felt hot as I stared into the shadows. Some of them . . . they weren’t just kissing or touching. Oh no, they were doing much, much more.

"They are everywhere." His hand stayed on my back. "Jesus."

Dragging my stare from the unexpected porn show, my gaze flitted across the dance floor and to the bar beyond. Ren was right. Some were at the bar drinking. Others were on the dance floor. A few lingered on the staircase leading to the second floor.

They were everywhere and there were so many of them. At least thirty.

Instinctively, I knew Ren had stumbled onto something major when he followed Marlon to the club. "I’ve never seen so many together."

"Me neither," he said grimly. Straightening, his hand slipped off my back and found my hand. He threaded his fingers through mine.

Ren led the way around the dance floor, and I did everything in my power not to look into the shadows. We edged around a group of college-aged girls crowding a table, and a fae stepped out of the shadows, directly in front of us.

My breath caught, and my free hand tingled with the need to grab the stake. Ren’s hand tightened around mine as the fae looked us over with pale eyes before moving on to the group of girls.

Ren and I exchanged a long look as we continued to the bar. If we could hear anything, it would be there, but as I glanced at the stairwell, my heart lurched in my chest.

"Shit," I hissed, drawing to a halt.

"What?" Ren turned to me.

Turning to the side, I let my hair fall forward, shielding my face. "It’s him. The fae who shot me. He’s coming down the staircase."

Ren looked over his shoulder and muttered a curse. Hiding my face wasn’t a great shield considering my hair probably gave my ass away. "He hasn’t been in here this whole week," he growled. "Dammit."

This was bad. The moment the ancient saw me, our cover would be blown to pieces, and with so many fae being inside the club, I knew we wouldn’t make it out. I started to reach for my stake just as Ren started walking toward the shadowy recesses surrounding the floor. My brain balked at the idea considering what was going on in those shadows, but it was either that or throw down in the middle of a fae infested club.

Staring straight ahead, I didn’t dare look at the couches we walked past, but I heard the sounds—the soft moans and guttural groans, the panting of many breaths and sharp inhales, the echoes of flesh against flesh mingling with the steady thrum of music.

Oh dear lord in heaven . . .

Couples danced near the couches—uh, on second thought, I wasn’t sure what they were doing was dancing. My step faltered as Ren suddenly stopped. He turned to me, and still holding my hand, he hauled me forward against his chest. Throwing my hand to his shoulder, I steadied myself just as he let go of my hand and circled his arm around my waist, sealing our bodies together—front to front.

Immediately aware of the hard breadth of his chest, I stiffened against him. "What the . . .?"

Ren’s other hand curled in my hair, scooping it to the side as he lowered his mouth to my ear once more. "He’s on the dance floor with another fae."

I swallowed, wondering how well the ancient could see into the shadows. "Crap."

"Yep."

My hands curled around the material of his soft shirt. "What do we do now since this was your genius idea?"

"You agreed."

"Ren," I seethed.

"Blend in." He pressed his cheek against mine, startling me. "We just blend in."