Awaken Me Darkly

Page 4

“He doesn’t count. His legs are so skinny, I could use them as chopsticks.”
“He’s not that skinny.”
“You can’t deny he’s got no heart, though. Hell, I bet he tosses widows and children out of that fancy apartment building he owns and into the cold, wet streets.”
Dallas rounded the corner, out of sight, and I heard a thud as he dropped Bob to the ground. Within seconds, my partner was striding toward me. When he reached me, he leaned down until our noses were only inches apart.
“Why do you only date men like that? Men you can walk all over? There’s no way in hell you can respect someone like that.”
My eyes narrowed. Anger rushed through me, growing hotter and hotter, darker and darker. I liked being in control. So what? I liked things done my way, when I wanted, where I wanted. I rarely dated, but when I did, I picked men who took what I gave them and didn’t ask for more. If I were a man, Dallas would be slapping me on the back and offering me a beer instead of chastising me. “What I like is solving a case,” I said with false calm. “I think we’ve wasted enough time outside, don’t you?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he held up his hands and shrugged. “Whatever you say. You’re the boss, right?”
The entry doors swung open.
In unison, Dallas and I spun, weapons drawn. From the open doorway, smoke billowed like a thick morning fog. Amid the haze, two Delensean females emerged. Both appeared to be in their mid-twenties, with flowing azure hair, azure skin, and four handless arms. Both wore only drunken smiles and wraparound chains. The thin silver links wound around their curves, hiding mere inches of skin.
The women giggled when they saw us, not the least concerned by our presence. We allowed them to pass without a word, then each turned and fired, stunning them. They froze in place.
All Delenseans acted like rebellious teenagers, anyway. Throw drugs into the mix, and no telling what kind of havoc they would create.
“You gonna help me this time?” Dallas asked me.
We each dragged one around the corner and dropped her beside Bob. If we didn’t get inside soon, no telling how big the pile would become.
I strode to the front door and pushed inside, Dallas right beside me. Music blasted my ears, a fast rhythm that lured in the unwary. The mingled scent of sweat, sex, and alcohol filled my nostrils, almost obscene in its headiness. Illegal cigarette smoke, too. Shadows and light constantly battled for control, blending together at times, illuminating, then hiding each other, but all the while creating a dreamlike atmosphere.
The foyer possessed no furnishings, yet still overflowed with half-dressed, undulating bodies, both human and alien. One man was bound to the wall by thick ropes, and he moaned in rapture as the woman standing behind him spanked him with a spiked, wooden paddle.
Another group was in the middle of a dog-and-pony show. Three naked human women were on all fours, a spiked collar wrapped around each of their necks. A glowing male Mec paced them up and down the walkway.
“I’m feeling a little overdressed,” Dallas said.
I’d never seen so many people getting off in so many different ways. “Come on. Let’s find Lilla before we lose our concentration.”
“Too late for me, but go ahead and lead the way.”
As I strode in front of Dallas, a man latched his fingers around my wrist, trying to draw me into his waiting embrace. I attempted to jerk myself free, but found my efforts were paltry compared to his determination.
I was just about to introduce the man’s groin to my knee when Dallas slammed his fist into the guy’s face.
I was suddenly freed. “Thanks,” I said with a half grin.
“No prob.”
We continued toward the main room. My boots stuck to the floor in several places, and I shuddered at the thought of just what was making them stick.
Once in the center of the action, I cataloged the entire scene. Crosses decorated the walls, and moonlight dappled through red velvet curtains. Pillowed chaises in brilliant golds and purples snaked around the far corners. Sashaying in every direction were waitresses dressed as slutty nuns, each holding a tray piled high with drugs, alcohol, and sex toys. Amid the moans of titillation that rivaled the music’s volume, bodies bumped and writhed.
“Think I can get a membership?” Dallas asked, the warmth of his breath fanning my ear.
“You’re perverted enough.”
“Yes, I am,” he answered proudly.
I rolled my eyes. “Do you see her?”
“Honestly?” He slowly smiled. “I haven’t been looking. There are too many other, more interesting sights.”
I couldn’t chastise him, since I’d been distracted as well. I slid my gaze to the bar. Lilla’s file claimed she was a bartender, but I didn’t see her peddling drinks. Determined to find her, I studied every individual, every corner, every hollow. I counted two Arcadians, both female, neither Lilla.
Then suddenly…joltingly…
My gaze connected with the seductively uptilted violet eyes of an Arcadian male. Breath froze in my lungs, and everything around me receded. Time slowed. The music faded from my ears. My vision tunneled to this one man as a foreign energy sizzled under my skin. I rubbed at my arms, trying to rid myself of the odd sensation.
The Arcadian was taller than anyone else in the room, his shoulders broad and muscled like a savage Pict warrior from long ago. His cheekbones were high, his nose straight, his lips full, lush, and sensual. He wore danger like a cloak, erotic danger, lethal danger, and there was a hard, granite edge to his expression. It was the same expression cops and hunters wore, one that proclaimed he’d seen the darkest life had to offer and had survived. I couldn’t see his clothing, couldn’t tell if he wore traditional earth clothing or something more daring. I only knew he looked like living power.
At last you arrive whispered so clearly across my mind, I almost turned to see who had spoken. I watched a knowing—and perhaps a little mocking—smile half-curl the corners of his lips, and then he was gone, his warrior body somehow hidden in the crowd. I searched, but couldn’t find him. Besides the energy flowing through me, there wasn’t a single indication of his presence.
Where was he? Who was he? And how the hell had he disappeared so quickly?
I frowned.
“Hey, Mia,” Dallas said, slicing into my preoccupation. “You okay? You were in a trance or something. I had to call your name several times to get your attention.”
“I’m fine,” I offered weakly. Disgusted with myself, I scanned the masses again. Lilla. I’m looking for Lilla. The man didn’t mater.
I resumed my search and was quickly rewarded. There, at the back altar, was a black overstuffed lounge that curled at the end like a lover’s palm. Atop the cushions, I saw a cascade of white hair and a perfectly sloped back. Anticipation zinged across my nerve endings. Sometimes I just knew, knew things without any explanation why, and I knew this was Lilla, though I couldn’t see her face.
She was poised above a human male. His legs were bent and spread to offer her a libidinous cradle. I couldn’t make out his features. On Lilla’s left and right sides were two catlike Taren females; both wore flimsy white robes and were licking and kissing Lilla’s shoulders.
As if she sensed my gaze, Lilla tossed her hair over one shoulder, turned, and met my stare. I felt a slight hum of energy whiz through me, the same type of odd hum I’d felt with the Arcadian warrior. It was…bizarre, something I’d never encountered before today. I had no idea what it meant, and I didn’t have time to analyze. Lilla gave me a slow smile before returning her attention to her lovers.
My eyes narrowed. “This way,” I said to Dallas, giving his shirtsleeve a tug. Side by side we strode across the dance floor, ignoring wandering hands and gyrating bodies.
When we reached our destination, I received my first full look at the man beneath Lilla. He had thick red hair and freckled skin, big ears that probably flapped in the wind. His eyes were spaced too far apart, but the color was nice, a mixture of green and brown.
“Mark St. John,” Dallas supplied. “Ecstasy’s owner.”
I had a few questions for Lover Boy, but knew those would have to wait. A man with a hard-on had trouble concentrating on facts. Besides, interrogations worked best with one suspect at a time.
I shifted my gaze to Lilla. She wore a flesh-colored halter top and skirt that almost made her appear naked. I reached out and tapped her on the shoulder. “Lilla en Arr?”
“Yes?” she said, not sparing me a glance.
“We need to speak with you.”
Languidly, deliberately, she turned to face me, and our gazes collided again. As if on cue, the music tapered to silence.
“Mia Snow,” she said, her tone as soft as a caress, each syllable well modulated and punctuated precisely with an almost hypnotic rhythm. “I am so glad you have, at last, joined us. We have been expecting you.”
CHAPTER 3
We have been expecting you.
The words reverberated in my mind amid the unexpected silence.
We.NotI. Kind of like the words that had whispered through my mind only minutes before. At last you arrive.
I stared down at Lilla. Her features were as delicate as butterfly wings, incandescent and angelic. Pale. Wholly innocent. And somehow the absolute essence of sexuality. On the surface, she was beauty personified. Yet there was an underlying hardness to her gaze, a tightness to her lips that gave her an emotionally untouchable veneer.
I didn’t have to glance at Dallas to know he was foaming at the mouth for a taste of this woman. He was a sucker for ice queens.
I fought the urge to grab her by the shoulders, slap a pair of laserbands on her wrists, and haul her ass down to A.I.R. headquarters. I had questions, and most likely, she had the answers. However, taking her to the station might have the same results as her former arrests—swept under a nice, tidy little rug—and I wouldn’t risk that. I didn’t want Lilla released, her file once again buried. Maybe even destroyed this time.
I’d interrogate her here, in front of God and every pervert present if needed.
“We need to speak with you, Lilla,” I said, my tone as hard as her expression.
“Then speak,” she replied. Still watching me, she traced a fingertip down the center of her flesh-colored top. She was the very picture of carnal seduction, and I was amazed by just how human she appeared. “I have nothing to hide. No secrets lurking about, waiting to nibble on me.”
“Let’s go somewhere private.”
“Whatever you wish to discuss, we will discuss here, with my friends. Or…” Her gaze swept over me. “Perhaps you would like to join us first?”
“I’m not interested in dying like William Steele,” I said.
Lilla’s smile lost some of its arrogance, and something dark flickered in the depths of her eyes, turning the violet to deep purple. I almost regretted that I’d punctured some of her casual disregard. After all, I admired strength in a woman. I admired the courage it took to look a hunter in the eyes and casually dismiss him. Or her. Still, I found it interesting that she’d betrayed such a reaction to my words. There were definite emotions here.
Uncaring of the happenings around him, St. John snaked his arms around Lilla and caressed her bare stomach. Lilla regained her easygoing facade.
With one wave of her hand, she dismissed the two Taren women. Or cats. Or whatever they were. They hopped down on all fours without protest and slinked to the bar. Lilla whispered something in St. John’s ear. He shook his head, intent on getting his piece of ass. She whispered something else. I couldn’t make out the words, only the fierceness of her tone. This time, he gave an abrupt nod. His expression dark, he pushed to his feet, the action causing Lilla to bounce on the couch. St. John stalked away.
“Smart move,” I said, the mechanics of their relationship suddenly clear. Lilla was the puppet master, and little Markie was her puppet. Whether she controlled him through simple feminine wiles or Arcadian mind control, I didn’t know. Didn’t care. “We wouldn’t want St. John to hear about your dealings with another man, would we?”
Keeping her gaze locked on mine, Lilla rose, her movements slow and elaborate, somehow making the simple act of rising a seductive dance. Her eyelids lowered in an enticing, come-hither blink. “Please,” she said on a breathy murmur. “Follow me. We will chat somewhere private, just as you wished.”
The music kicked up, filling the club with a syncopated beat and claiming the attention of the patrons. Lilla turned, flicking her luxuriant white hair over one shoulder, and strolled toward guarded double doors. Dallas followed right behind her, as if it were perfectly natural to follow a murder suspect wherever she might lead.
Were they pumping drugs through the ventilation system? I thought sarcastically. Dallas wasn’t usually this foolish. Lilla was beautiful, yes, but the only thing worthy of such blind adoration was a giant vat of fresh, steaming synthetic coffee.
Ever watchful and guarded, I remained five steps behind. When I found myself searching for the Arcadian male who’d caught my eye earlier—for reasons that had nothing to do with safety—my lips curled back involuntarily in a scowl. I was as bad as Dallas. I forced my gaze to focus straight ahead.
We were led into an empty hallway and up a flight of creaking stairs. The long, narrow corridor we entered next had dancing nymphs painted on the walls and soft, wine-colored carpet. Finally, we entered a small office. There were no windows adorning the plain white walls. A desk crowned the center, and four chairs formed a half-moon at the front. The air was clean, devoid of smoke. In fact, the air smelled faintly of dried rose petals and lavender sachet, a scent any grandmother would have applauded.