Bluedawn (A Watermagic Novel, #2) (15 page)

“We have to find more intelligent boys
tonight,” Gia said as she laid her head and upper torso back over
her sisters’ laps. She was looking up at the ceiling now as she
spoke in a bored tone. Her silky red hair fell to the sides of her
body and to the floor. “I need a little stimulation.” She arched
her back a bit at the last statement.

“I agree,” Wren sighed. “L.A. must have some
classier hot spots these days than Vegas.”

Gia snapped her fingers and rolled over on
her side. “Dylan!” She kept snapping. “Hello, hello.” Her hand
waved in the air.

“Huh?” he took the ear buds out and looked at
her with an eyebrow raised.

“Get me an entertainment newspaper over
there.” She pointed across the room.

“My pleasure,” He winked at her and pranced
in rhythm over to the intricately carved wooden table that held
brochures and stacks of magazines.

I liked the way he moved. My eyes were
fixated on him even though I knew I should turn away. Apparently
somebody else liked the way he moved too because the young woman
behind the desk who was talking to Travis stopped midsentence. Her
jaw dropped. She was staring at Dylan as he perused the
literature.

That must have pissed off Travis because
immediately he started singing in a raspy voice that sounded almost
demonic yet melodic. He was such the rock star. The girl locked
eyes with him now. She didn’t even ask for a credit card, but
rather complemented the best suite to us, free on the house. As he
took the keys from her, he scratched her hand.

She pulled back. “Ouch.” Her eyes focused on
the blood that trickled out of the minor cut. “Enjoy your stay,”
she said looking confused.

“Yeah, I will,” he snapped as he backed away,
probably trying not to smell her blood and lose further control.
Wren would punish him if he killed the girl without her
consent.

Travis walked over to Dylan from behind and
punched him in the back of his neck. “Get your ass up and help
me.”

Dylan fell to the floor. He scurried up to
his feet. “Dude, all you have to do is ask.”

“Shut up, loser, and take these suitcases up
to the 21
^st
floor. But before he could gather the bags,
servicemen in tuxedos placed them on carts and brought them up for
us. We followed behind in an adjacent elevator.

To no surprise, our suite was gorgeous. Huge
windows and glass doors that overlooked the ocean opening up to a
charming veranda with outdoor furniture. A gigantic movie screen in
the living room that covered an entire wall. A high tech stereo
with music choices galore. Comfortable Victorian sofas. Two
bathrooms—one with a big footed tub and the other with an oversized
Jacuzzi. And in the adjoining bedrooms, beds were made with satin
sheets and comforters, so soft and comfy. Mints on the pillows.
Fresh roses in the vases.

“We have a big day ahead, kiddo,” Lyra said
to me as she pulled off her corset and ran for the bathroom.
“Better get ready,” she sang as she peaked from behind the
door.

“Get ready,” Wren called to me in agreement
with Lyra as she kicked off her pants and opened the door to the
bathroom, presumably joining her sister in the tub or shower. “You
need a whole new look.”

I rolled my eyes wondering what horror lay
ahead of me. I hoped we weren’t going to shut down a beauty salon
and eat everyone inside. And even if that didn’t happen, I hated
shopping. But somehow I knew whatever Wren had planned would one
way or another turn out totally different than I might expect.

CHAPTER FIVE

Be as you wish to
seem.
–Socrates

That dry, parched feeling was invading my
mouth again. My stomach grumbled. The triplets, the slaves, and
Dylan and I were sitting at a round outdoor table on the Santa
Monica Promenade. Dylan ordered us the French restaurant’s finest
red wine.

I was so on edge that I stared out at the
shoppers passing by. One guy with a juicy build who was perusing
the vintage records in the music store across the way looked so
delicious. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of him. As much as I didn’t
want to, I found myself staring at him as the food server poured
our merlots into the delicate wine glasses.

The only thing that pulled me out of my spell
was when Dylan stood up with his cup in hand and said with a wicked
chortle, “To fun!”

I looked at his perfect face, sensing
mischief in his expression.

“Drink,” he whispered, his emerald eyes
narrowing.

My heart was pounding way too fast in my
chest. I looked back at the guy in the record store and then back
at Dylan.

He nodded. His nostrils flared. I wondered if
he was aware of the intense hunger inside of me.

Feeling out of sorts, not sure if I was going
to rush across the cobblestone promenade and pounce right on the
guy, I picked up my glass of wine. But as I brought it to my lips,
I squeezed too hard and the glass shattered in my hand. Wine
sprayed out all over Wren and Lyra who were on either sides of
me.

“Stupid.” Wren jumped up, scowling at her
white blouse splattered with red liquid. She threw a fork at my
face.

Lyra was less angry, but maybe because she
was wearing just a black halter and matching pencil skirt.

Gia and Travis chuckled under their breath,
but Dylan held a blank expression. I searched his eyes for help,
but nothing came to me. “Sorry,” I finally said, as I began
plucking the shards out of my bleeding hand.

“We’ll be right back,” Dylan mumbled to the
group as the now frazzled waiter called the bus boys over, his face
tinged with alarm.

Dylan stepped around the table and touched my
arm. I could feel the heat of his hand on my bare skin. “Come with
me, Hailey. I’ll fix you up.”

To my surprise, I actually liked the pain I
was feeling. Blood flowed from my hand wetting the cloth napkin
wrapped around it. I got up.

“I don’t know what was wrong with the glass;
maybe there was a crack in it,” the waiter said nervously. “We’ll
pay for your medical.” He looked at Wren. “Everything’s free. Eat
all you want. On the house.”

I walked briskly with Dylan through an alley
out of the promenade that led to the sandy shore. “You okay?” Dylan
asked.

Now that we were away from the others, I
sensed that he was worried about me. He was examining the wounds as
we walked. “Take off your clothes,” he said in his magnetic
voice.

I looked up at him, surprised. The beach was
empty, but still.

“Don’t disobey me.” His tone was rough. “Take
off your clothes.”

I wasn’t sure, but I thought I saw him subdue
the slightest smile.

My hand hurt, but I knew the wounds weren’t
that serious. Mostly, I was glad for the distraction from my
hunger. “Turn around then,” I said sassily.

“No.” He just looked at me. I sensed in inner
fury that he was suppressing. “Hurry up.”

I focused on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“N…nothing.” His musical voice stuttered,
annoyed. I saw the slightest red coloration form on his cheeks.
Suddenly, he reached behind me and pulled the sash on the back of
my halter top. It untied. The top dangled from my neck still
covering my breasts, but before I could step away, he pulled the
upper sash and the garment fell off me.

At once, I wrapped my arms around myself,
covering my chest. “Why’d you do that?” I demanded as I stared him
in the eyes angrily.

“Take off your skirt or I’ll do it.” His tone
was insolent.

The blood had fully saturated the napkin by
now. It was dripping on the sand.

He pulled me to him, right up against his
body. I could feel his heart beating fast against mine. At once, he
unzipped my skirt, pulled it down and off of me with my underwear
and pulled me into the ocean.

I wanted to be angry, but all I felt was
desperation, attraction. I struggled a little. He held fast,
pulling me under the water out into the deep. We came up for air,
gasping and breathing, my heart pounding with pain and this intense
frustration that I couldn’t even explain.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he said pushing
me away with fury in his wild eyes.

“What?” I demanded.

“You know,” he said. “How is your hand?”

I lifted it up out of the water. It was
entirely healed with just pink lines where the gashes were
before.

I wondered what I could have done to make him
so fuming. It didn’t make sense. But then, I wondered if he could
have been jealous that I was watching the guy in the record store.
Was Dylan a jealous type? Or maybe I had done something else.

“We have to get back.” He dove under the cool
water and swam back for the shore.

For a moment, I just waded there in the ocean
trying to figure out what had just happened. But then, I dove under
too and swam. Once, I was in shallow enough water, I stood up and
walked for the shore. He was standing at the edge with his eyes
closed holding up my garments.

I grabbed them from him and dressed. “Okay,”
I said, my voice laced with sarcasm. “You can open your eyes.”

He didn’t say anything, but just walked with
me back to the promenade. “You’ll be okay.” He examined me for a
second making me feel more like his patient than his girlfriend, if
I even could call myself that. “I’ll meet you at the
restaurant.”

My eyes widened. “Where are you going?”

He looked distracted. “Don’t worry about it.”
He turned to leave.

I touched his shoulder. “I am,” I said.

He continued onward back through the alley in
that strut that turned me on, but he looked over his shoulder and
responded, “It’s not like I can leave you for long.” Then he jogged
away, but not without jumping in the air and tagging an overhead
sign with his hand as he went.

CHAPTER SIX

Novelty is the storehouse of
pleasure.
–Ninon De L’Enclos

When I got back to the restaurant, I ate a
lot of succulent French foods that reminded me of Mom. The memories
and tastes were so emotionally charged that they helped keep my
mind off my hunger a little. As much as it hurt, I tried to imagine
that I was with my parents eating out on the town. That pulled at
my heart strings, but at least it was a distraction from more
eminent threats. At least I wasn’t tearing someone to shreds.

To my relief, the guy at the music store was
gone, but other passer byers smelled more appetizing than what I
was eating. Wren kept pushing dishes at me. She must have sensed my
struggles or more likely she poisoned the food. Being new at this,
I didn’t have the self-control she and the others possessed.

The chicken cordon bleu preoccupied me as I
held to the edge of the table and the chocolate ganache that I
licked off my fingers brought back memories of childhood birthdays.
The French baguette smelled of my parent’s kitchen, warm and
toasty. Everything was surprisingly delicious for human cuisine,
but there was this hole inside of me that felt like it could never
be filled.

Though nobody seemed to care that Dylan
hadn’t returned with me, I was worried about him. I wondered where
he went. I kept expecting him to show up any minute, but he never
did. He said sirens couldn’t be away from each other at any
considerable distance for more than a half hour at a time. That
meant that he must be somewhere nearby.

I kept looking to see if he was watching us
from across the way at the coffee house or from the roof of the
closed cocktail bar. I even kept glancing over at the guitar
players on the promenade who collected money in a can. Possibly he
would join them for fun. He was talented with instruments as were
all the sirens. Maybe he was at the hotel. That would be close
enough to stay connected.

“Let’s shop,” Gia said as the food server
took away our last dishes.

“First off, I need a new shirt,” Wren scowled
as she looked down at her wine splattered blouse.

“We’re going to the arcade,” Travis mumbled
to the sirens as he pulled Blake up and out of his chair by his
shirt sleeve.

“Okay,” Lyra said. “We’ll pick you up...”

“No,” Wren interjected. “Shop with us. We
want to get you some clothes too.”

Travis frowned and Blake didn’t say anything
as they followed behind us. In a way, I felt sorry for them. I
couldn’t imagine being a boy and having to shop all day. But they
seemed to make the best of it, trying to hit on girls who lost
interest whenever Travis opened his inappropriate mouth. I wondered
if an idiot like him could ever learn.

I had never been on a shopping spree before.
Most girls would have been in heaven, but I wasn’t. My mind was too
distracted with my hungers and even more so with Dylan.

“Try this perfume,” Lyra said as she spritzed
me with the sexy scent. She sniffed my wrist. “Wow!”

I smelled it—it was nice, sort of spicy,
sweet and erotic. “I like it,” I mumbled as I looked across the
high end department store for Dylan, hoping he was looking for us
too.

She asked the tall lanky clerk with too much
makeup on her long face to package up a bottle of it for me.

Wren pointed at the glass over the display
case. “How about this necklace?” she asked me.

I walked over to her and looked. “Wow. That’s
pretty.” It was a single heart shaped black stone pendant on a
silver chain, very elegant and expensive.

“We’ll take this too.” Wren waved over the
woman.

The lady smiled, seemingly pleased with her
growing sales, as she placed the jewel in a silver box.

I couldn’t help but wonder why they were
doing all this for me. But then it occurred to me that I had to
look good to make them look good. It wouldn’t be auspicious to show
up at a party with a slob. If they wanted to be seductive, everyone
with them needed to be seductive too.

Gia handed her a black silk scarf. “This too.
And those earings.” She pointed at the diamond pendants in the
case. “Oh, and the dangly ones with the jade.” She pointed at an
even more attractive set.