Despite the alcohol, I felt way too cold. I chugged down the rest of my drink and headed back to the bar for another.
I couldn’t lose my nerve now.
As I mingled in the crowd, I began to think I’d only imagined Leon’s possessive phantom-touch. Maybe I’d only wished it was there; it was just my brain reacting to an uncomfortable interaction by imagining that the demon was close, watching me, protecting me.
I took a long sip of my drink and winced. I’d put way too much alcohol in it and not enough mixer, and was about to turn back to the bar to try to fix it when Jeremiah popped up beside me.
He had two cups in his hands.
“You don’t really look like you’re enjoying that,” he said, motioning to my poorly-made cocktail. He didn’t wait for my confirmation before he slipped the drink from my hands, and handed over one of his instead. “Try it.”
I sipped — of course it was better than mine. Refreshing, limey, sparkling. I nodded. “Yeah, that’s way better.”
“Just come to me if you want another,” he said, bowing as he headed back to the kitchen, likely to throw away the mess of alcohol I’d made. They were good hosts, even if they were secretly plotting to kill me.
I stayed at the edge of the crowd, swaying with my drink, watching couples grind up on each other to the pounding beat. Inaya had wandered off, and I was still trying to work up the courage to sneak away when I noticed a couple at the far side of the room eyeing me.
They were dressed in identical black suits and bowties, their faces painted to look like skulls. The woman’s long, wavy black hair was pulled into a ponytail, and the man’s hair was dark and slicked back. They were both tall, colorful tattoos peeking out from the wrists and necklines of their jackets. They were the type of couple that looked far too absurdly attractive — it was almost irritating to have that much sex-appeal taken up by two people.
They kept staring at me for so long it was beginning to make me blush. There was something vaguely familiar about the guy, as if I’d seen him around campus...maybe I had a class with him. It was the woman who made the first move, making her way slowly across the living room to stand beside me along the wall. Despite the suit, she was wearing steel-toed boots and towered over me.
When she smiled at me, I was suddenly certain that she could literally step on me and I’d say thank you.
“Hey.” Her voice was husky. “Having a good time?”
I nodded, flustered as fuck to have a beautiful girl talk to me without prompting. “Yeah, it’s pretty wild. Definitely the biggest party I’ve been to.”
“I’m Sam.” She held out her hand, the slightest stutter in her voice as she said her name. Her fingers were warm and rough, as if she worked with her hands a lot. “Would you…” She nodded back toward her partner, who winked at me as I glanced over. So familiar. Where the hell did I know him from? “…would you wanna dance?”
I was more likely to trip over my own feet than actually dance with them. But her hand was so warm on mine, and across the room her partner was flipping through the music on the TV and selected a song called Distance by Apashe.
I smiled and nodded, and she tugged me by the hand across the room, her dark brown eyes on my face as she brought me closer to her man. Then she was in front of me, arms around my neck, and he was behind me, hands on my waist, and our bodies swayed to the dark, swelling rhythm. It didn’t even matter that I couldn’t dance, because between the two of them I was moved however they wanted me, pressed close between them.
Sam’s body moved closer, her thigh edged up between my legs, and her fingers caressed down my neck as her head leaned down —her lips brushed against my ear as she whispered, “You need to stop drinking that, babe.”
But the thing was, I didn’t want to stop drinking. Whatever Jeremiah had made me was good, and the alcohol was finally easing away that vicious knot of anxiety in my stomach. Not just easing it away — destroying it entirely. I felt great. I felt warm. I felt like laughing. And God, I was turned