Rising (7 page)

He closed his eyes and shook his head like he was trying to shake off a bad dream. “Yes, right. Sorry, this music is giving me a headache.”

She sighed as he sat her back down in the grove of pulsating bodies. Still, his eyes kept darting back to her.

When the last song ended, the lights turned up, cueing the concert’s end. They sat and waited for the crowd to thin before attempting to leave themselves. Ron fidgeted in his seat.

When he picked her up to leave, he
flew down the stairs. In the car, he showed the same energy, driving very fast. His eyes continued to dart toward her. Every time their eyes met, he licked his lips.

“Um,
” Sara said. “Thanks for taking me to the concert. I had a good time.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” he said. “But I enjoyed the part you sang best of all.”

“Oh. You heard that?” Her heart began to pound, the pulsing blood squeezing her chest.

“Oh yes,
” he answered. “I sure did. Listen, I’m not ready to call it a night yet. Are you hungry?” Ron took a corner fast and Sara slid against the door.

“No, I’m good,” she said.
She doubted she could eat a bite—not with her stomach attempting to tie itself into a knot. “I’m just tired. I’d like to go home.”

“Sure. Okay. But could we stop for a drink first?”

“I don’t think so. I’m only twenty. I can’t drink yet.”

“Don’t worry about it. I know a great place and they have fantastic
virgin
drinks.” A wide smile spread across his face.

“I appreciate the offer, Ron
, but I’m not feeling very well. I’d just like to go home and straight to bed.”

“Ooh me too
. But let me buy you just one drink.”

“Ron…”

“Just one drink and we’re out. I promise.” He held his hand up in a pledge.

Sara scowled as
she turned her head and looked behind them—the direction of her apartment. “Okay. Just one drink and then you take me home.”

Ron
pulled into a nightclub parking lot. The name “Shockwave” flashed in blue neon lights. He parked, opened his door, and stepped out. Sara chewed her bottom lip and twirled her hair around her finger as she waited for him to get her wheelchair from the trunk. She jumped, startled when he opened her door so soon.

“No use getting your wheelchair when we’re going to be in and out so quickly
,” he said as he picked her up. About a minute later, a man nodded them in at the front door. Bodies packed the room from wall to wall. Lights flashed, music pulsed, and hundreds of people bounced and gyrated to the music. The floral air fresheners didn’t quite mask the deep scent of alcohol and a hundred sweating bodies.

Ron’s eyes followed two women
—a blonde and a brunette—as they strutted by, balancing on five-inch stilettos. Their skirts were so short that if they bent over… Sara grimaced.

“Hey Ron
,” the brunette said.

“Hello, Kat
,” Ron answered with an appreciative grin.

“Hi Ron.”
The blonde gave a little wave.

“Hi Kit
,” he answered, still smiling.

“Kit and Kat?”
Sara said.

“I know. Aren’t they cute?”

Cute was not the exact the word she would use for those two.

“Do you come here often?”
Sara asked.

“Yeah.
This is my usual hunting grounds,” he answered, his eyebrow raised.

“Don’t you mean stomping grounds?”

A smile spread across his face. “Sure.”

S
ara began to re-evaluate what she knew about him. She’d always thought he was proper, refined, eloquent, annoying... Now he seemed to be revealing a side of himself she’d never seen before—a creepy side.

A commotion interrupted her thoughts. The women in the club noisily fluttered around someone or something at the front door. Even the stilettos twins ran to join the fray.

“Hey, Ron. I see your taste in women remains impeccable.” Sara turned to see a bulging, tattooed man step up to the bar. Ron plopped her down on a stool. She’d never heard such a rough-looking man use the word “impeccable” before. Maybe Ron was rubbing off on him.

“Hello, Thomas,” Ron answered with a smile.

Thomas looked her up and down. His eyes lingered on her spandex-covered stump, when they finally returned to her face, his smile widened and eyebrows rose.

“We can’t stay long,” Ron said. “We just want a quick drink. Sara here will have a virgin blue Hawaiian and I’ll have the same
—with the alcohol, of course. There’s a big tip in it for you if you give her drink a little extra attention to make it just right.”

Ron brushed a stray strand of hair away from her eyes
, making her skin crawl. Warning bells were going off in her head.
Okay
,
calm down. Just one drink and I’m on my way home.

“Sure thing, Ron,” Thomas answered. He mixed the drinks. The little extra time didn’t amount to much—the drinks were in front of them in about a minute. Ron handed Thomas a bill and Sara could have sworn she saw a fifty on it. Thomas put it in his pocket. She must have been mistaken. These drinks couldn’t have cost twenty-five dollars apiece, even with a big tip added on.

She sipped her beverage, surprised at how much she liked it. It tasted fruity, tropical and, within minutes, weariness overwhelmed her. She hadn’t even finished her drink when Ron scooped her off the stool.

“I think it’s time to leave,”
he said. “You’ve definitely had enough.”

“But I didn’t finish my drink.” Her voice sounded funny in her ears
—distant and a little slurred. Something felt wrong in all this. A wave of nausea and dizziness washed over her. She grabbed Ron’s neck, trying to steady herself. His arms roped around her, but she still felt as if she were falling.

Sara jumped when she heard the car door shut.
How did I get in the car?
She could feel her pulse pounding against her skull. Something told her she needed help, but she couldn’t seem to find her voice—or move her arms.

What’s wrong with me?
Then it hit her.
He drugged me. The creep drugged me!  

She could guess what
came next.
Please no!
A nightmare unfolded before her eyes, yet, no matter how upset and frightened she was she couldn’t marshal a fight. The powerful drug soon dragged her down into blackness.

Xanthus paced around his Harley-Davidson motorcycle and suppressed the urge to hit something. He’d been tracking the half-human and her male companion all evening. He shook his head over the name he’d heard the human call her. Sara. In Atlantian, that name meant princess. Right. She was no princess. She was a criminal.

Xanthus growled like a trapped animal as his eyes once again shot over to Sara’s building. The adrenaline-rich blood pumping through his body told him something was wrong.

His brain didn’t know what to think.

He
’d followed Sara most the night. Ron turned out to be full of surprises. After the concert, he’d taken Sara to a club filled with retched humans. Xanthus had barely escaped the place with his shirt on. The human women were so persistent, pressing in on him. He’d barely glimpsed Ron leaving with Sara—nearly losing them as they left. When they’d reached her apartment, Ron carried her into the building as she slept.

Xanthus’s instincts had been in overdrive the entire night. Ron’s hands had been on her, touching her, holding
her, and that had driven Xanthus to the brink of madness. It took a concerted effort not to seize the human by the throat and rip out his windpipe, but that had been the hormones talking. Sara was his target, not Ron. Why couldn’t he remember that? He had been consumed with irrational thoughts all evening.

From what he could tell, Sara didn’t seem to like Ron. She’d worn a sour expression the entire night, but she’d fallen asleep in his car. She may not like him, but she must trust him enough to sleep in his presence.

Still, human men could be unpredictable.

Ron should have simply put her in bed and left.
Xanthus had been waiting for that opportunity. This chance would not slip by him. This honorable soldier had an execution to carry out. He wouldn’t hesitate again.

If only the human would leave.

Xanthus glanced at his watch. It’d been five minutes. Ron should have been out by now, shouldn’t he? Hades. Xanthus didn’t know. Maybe he was overreacting, but as the time ticked on without Ron leaving, Xanthus’s animal instincts clawed at him. He took one more glance at his watch. Six minutes. He couldn’t wait any longer.

He was going in.

Xanthus stood in front of Sara’s apartment door and knocked. Her scent filled his nostrils and his mind. Then he caught another scent—much milder, but it had him nearly blind with rage. A male pheromone. Ron was aroused. Depending on what he found, Xanthus might have to kill the both of them tonight.

He nearly splintered the wood as he pounded his fist on the door.

“Who is it?” Ron asked, clearly annoyed.

“Open the door
.”

Ron yanked the door open, his eyes burning with fury. “What…” His voice choked off as he saw Xanthus’s hulking figure fill the doorway. Xanthus
ducked under the doorframe and stepped inside, his eyes searching, trying to catch a glimpse of Sara. Ron stumbling as he stepped back.

“Who do you think you are? You can’t just barge in here.”

“Where’s Sara?” Xanthus said, towering over Ron.

“She’s in bed.”

“Are you sharing the bed with her?”

“That’s none of your business. You’re not her father. Sara’s an adult. She can have whomever she wants in her apartment and in her bed.”

“Your kind is not worthy to be in the same room as her, much less in her bed.” Xanthus snarled while he pushed through her bedroom door.

He looked down at her lying
across her mattress. His breath caught at the sight of the Dagonian woman this close. She was beautiful, stunning. Black hair haloed around her head and across the pillow. Her shirt lay open, exposing flesh covered with reddened splotches and reeking of Ron’s scent. Yet, somehow, she slept peacefully—no, she was unconscious. Xanthus growled at that realization. She was innocent in this situation and it appeared her innocence remained intact. Her wrap and skirt still covered her—untouched. He sighed in relief.

Xanthus heard Ron scrambling through the kitchen in an attempt to make his escape. Less than a second later, Ron yelped as Xanthus seized him by the hair.

“You think you can commit this crime and go on your way?” Xanthus thought of the many ways he would love to hurt this foul creature, but he knew he’d have to answer for his actions. By being here, Sara herself had broken the law. If her secret had been discovered, he would have had nothing restraining him from killing this man, but her secret remained safe. Regretfully, that fact kept Ron safe from permanent arm.

Still, Xanthus could frighten
him—give him a reason to fear coming near her again. That
would
be justified.

Fifteen minutes later, Ron
was sobbing like an infant and cowering on the linoleum floor in a puddle of urine. Xanthus tired of the stench, more than ready to let the sniveling coward go. “Ron, I’m going to allow you to leave. But if I ever see you near Sara again, even if it’s unintentional, you’re a dead man. And it won’t be quick—I’ll make you suffer. Do you understand me?” Xanthus clutched Ron’s shirt, twisting it so hard that it cut into his neck.

“I understand
,” Ron sobbed. “You won’t see me again.”

Xanthus released him and Ron scrambled out the door.

Xanthus shook his head when he realized the idiocy of his threat. It was pointless. He would be killing Sara in a moment. She would be dead and gone before the night was through.

Xanthus stepped into
her bedroom. Light from the kitchen spilled onto her bed, draping across her sleeping form. Her chest rose with every breath. She slept, unaware of the predator stalking her. Xanthus’s heart pounded and sweat broke out across his forehead as he looked down on her angelic face.