They have to be related.
“Creed.” Alex grins, and I swear little sparks burst in her eyes. “Want to play too?”
Ben and I catch each other’s gaze a moment and he fights a grin as if to say I found myself a freak, be jealous. And you know what, I might be if I wasn’t so interested in what this Creed, as she called him, has to say.
“Not this one.” His tone is calm, a stark contrast to the harshness of his expression.
The guy is tall, maybe almost as tall as Knight, minus an inch or two, and I can’t help but enjoy the way his black shirt stretches over his biceps. I’ve got the urge to lick across the bulging vein there, but the death glare he shoots me makes me think he wouldn’t be into that.
But the way his tongue rolls across his lip has me questioning my whole life. Or maybe I’m still horny from the live action and I’m not thinking straight.
“Why not? She smells so…sweet. Different.” She reaches for me again. “Almost like I can taste her already. And the boost…”
O-kay. She’s a looney freak.
And what’s this about a boost?
“Not. This. One.” Creed’s words are low, lethal even.
Alex doesn’t push. She grabs on to Ben’s hand and drags him into the swarm of sweaty bodies. He turns, flashing me a thumbs-up before he’s gone. Poof. Disappeared and most likely about to have the best night of his life.
Lucky bastard.
Before I can face forward, Creed is in my space, backing me up until my heels meet the edge of something that prevents me from going any farther.
His eyes are an entrancing sort of blue, like the glare of the ocean on a stormy night. Even hard and narrowed on mine, there’s something gentle about them. Something deeper than the anger his expression wants me to hold on to. Almost a sort of panicked desperation for…more. More of what? I couldn’t pretend to guess, but I want to.
Apparently, I want to touch him too. Before I know what I’m doing, my hand has lifted, my fingers brushing over the tension lines of his eyes. When my skin meets his, warmth brushes my fingertips. The lines deepen, but he turns further into me. Not enough for it to be noticeable, but enough for him to cover more of my hand. He’s so close that I can feel the muscles of his thighs against my hips and the length tucked in his jeans against my stomach. He’s hard.
For a moment, he leans into my touch, his own darting up to grip my waist and a sharp breath hisses past my lips.
His hand is large, his grip strong.
Creed lowers his head, and I wonder if he’s the second person in the span of five minutes who’s about to kiss me and if I have any intentions of stopping him, which I’m pretty sure is a hard no. At the last second, his lips find my ear.
“Careful, Little London. The Lycan are the tamest of predators at this party. Wouldn’t want you to stumble upon something much … darker.”
“What’s wrong with that?” I egg him on, my breath fanning along his collarbone as he’s still bent toward me. I smile when the muscles constrict. “There’s something so enticing about all the trouble you can get into when the sun has burned to ash and all that’s left is the hidden cloak of midnight.” I lean farther into him. “Can I play?”
I swear I hear a small groan from deep within his throat and the fingers pressing my hip dig deeper into my skin, but he yanks himself away as quick as it comes, stalking past without a word.
Dropping my head back against the wall, I take a moment to breathe, unable to deny the ache that’s settled between my legs. This party is one massive pussy tease. I’ll fuck the next thing that bumps into me. I need something. Or I’m going into one of those rooms. Preferably one that runs like a thirty-minute circuit.
Okay, yeah, I need to find myself a body for the night. It’s only fair since Ben is clearly getting down that I get down too.
Dragging myself from the corner I finally make my way out of, I stumble toward the kitchen, shoving drunk bodies out of my way. If I have any chance of making it through, I’ll need something. If I’m lucky, more of whatever Jus gave us earlier. I spot a small vile all the way against the back of a shelf, and my hands clasp around the bottle as I read the inscription: Fae Dust, single shot.
Huh. Must be a mythical themed party. Justice should have told me and I would have worn the black wings I bought for Halloween.
Bringing the tiny bottle up to my nose, I sniff it before dipping my pinkie inside and twirling the contents with it. Pulling it back out, I study the glittery concoction that’s dusting my pinkie. Why is it so pretty? Bringing it to my mouth, I allow the Fae dust to dissolve on the base of my tongue as my eyes roll to the back of my head and the sugary taste of vanilla and freeze-dried berries slide down the back of my throat. Different from the last stuff. No chemical harshness left behind.
I pour half of it into my final shot and throw it back with a smile. Here’s to hoping this shit’s half as good as whatever Justice gave us. Judging by the fatigue that’s slowly aching in my muscles, I’d say that has almost worn off.
Movement catches my eye to the side, and there’s that silver blur again.
Placing the empty little black bottle onto the counter, I follow the flash of silver through the doors, but as I step through, I pause. In the backyard, the greenery is lit up from little fireflies that look like LED lights. They probably are LED lights. The flowers in the bushes illuminate pink, yellow, and purple, and the small pathway that leads out to a lit up in-ground pool glows a brilliant shade of ivory. A naked girl starts walking toward me, her skin glistening like glitter. Her blonde hair falls down past her toned ass, and as she passes me, she flashes me a small smirk. I’d barely wrapped my mind around her, when I stop walking, my feet planted to the ground.
Wait.
Was I going to follow him in hopes of seeing Knight? But wouldn’t following his brother, because I’m convinced Creed is his brother, have been more effective? Why am I following the silver-haired stranger?
I spin on my heels to make my way back inside, gasping when I come face-to-face with the silver-haired hottie.
Fuck me is he hot. If Mr. Freeze and Elsa, a grown-up version, had a baby, this guy would be it. His hair is almost polished silver, his eyes almost the same shade, and now on mine.
“Hi.” My cheeks heat.
Okay. I really, truly do need to get laid. I’ve never blushed so much in my life. In fact, I don’t fucking blush. I get what I want, and I leave. Sex is a transaction for me. It’s enjoying those minutes—or hours—where all of their attention is on you. Just you. Probably my daddy issues talking, but if you ask me, sex is the closest feeling you’ll get to magic. Real magic. Not this cooked up, drug-induced version of it.
“Hi.” He smirks, taking a tentative step around my body. In this moment, I’m painfully aware of how similar it feels to being the prey. “Your name is London.” He backs up slightly.
“It is.” My feet decide to follow, as if he’s placed a collar around my neck and is leading me with a leash. “And you are?”
Without looking, he maneuvers through the crowd that pays us no mind, and I walk the same path, stopping before a sphere of burning flames heats my cheek as it passes us. That’s some seriously good CGI shit. It’s even projecting heat.