Wicked
Page 51
Whatever air was left in my lungs escaped in an unsteady rush. He thought I . . . was beautiful? The heat in my cheeks increased. Not since Shaun had a guy said that to me. Well, there were some random homeless dudes that told me I was beautiful, but I really wasn't counting those moments.
Ren dipped his head, his mouth enticingly close to my ear. "Merida has nothing on you, babe."
My lips curved into a grin at the mention of the Disney chick. "Thanks."
He straightened. "It's the God's honest truth."
A loud thump thundered from the back of the house. I cringed as Ren glanced down the hall, his lips turning down at the corners. "What was that?"
A very dead brownie if he didn't knock it off. "I . . . I have a cat. It probably knocked something over."
Ren lifted a brow. "You have a cat?"
"Yeah, a really annoying cat. It's old. Gonna die soon," I said, speaking louder. "I've been thinking about getting it euthanized, you know, to put it out of its misery." The thumping noise came again, and my lips pursed as I inhaled deeply through my nose.
"Well, uh . . . sorry to hear that," Ren said. "What's his name?"
"Tink," I blurted out.
"That's different. Does it stand for anything?"
"Nothing at all. We should be going," I added quickly. "Just let me grab my purse."
Of course, Ren followed me into the kitchen, and I could only pray that Tink stopped doing whatever the hell he was doing in his room. An image of him tossing troll dolls against the wall filled my mind, and I had to bite down on the inside of my cheek to stop the laugh that was building.
"Have a problem with the sugar?" he asked, grinning at the counter.
My gaze fell to the two piles of sugar as I grabbed the black, beaded clutch I'd picked up from a shop in the Quarter and slipped the strap around my wrist. "I'm . . . messy."
He gave a little shake of his head as his lashes lifted. "Doesn't look like that in the rest of the apartment."
I forced a causal shrug. "I'm ready."
Luckily, Ren dropped it and followed me outside. Surprise flitted through me when we stepped out of the courtyard and I saw an older black truck parked along the curb. "Yours?"
"Yep." He stepped around me and opened up the passenger door. "It's been my baby since I was sixteen. It's what got me and the bike to New Orleans."
Biting my lip, I climbed in and smoothed the skirt of my dress. For some reason, a truck fit him. I don't know why I expected him to drive something fancy and fast, but it really did match his personality.
"Question?" he said, tone light. He leaned into the cab of the truck, one arm draped over the door. "You are carrying, right?"
"Yes. Of course."
He grinned as he peered through his thick lashes. "Where in the world are you hiding a weapon, Ivy? I'm dying to know."
I laughed softly and reached for the edge of my skirt. Hesitating for a second, I curled my fingers around the hem and slid it up, giving him a peek of the stake secured to my thigh.
"Damn, girl." He straightened, gripping the door. "That right there is what fantasies are made of."
Blood poured into my cheeks, and I was grateful it was dark out. Muttering a curse under his breath, he closed the door and jogged around the front of the truck. Once inside, he cranked the engine and soft music hummed out of the speakers. As he pulled away from the curb, I realized he was listening to an old Hank Williams' song.
I turned to him slowly.
He smiled crookedly. "Don't knock the music, sweetness. We're off to such a great start tonight. I'd hate to have to kick you out of the truck."
I snorted but didn't say anything as we made the trip into the business district. Since it was Saturday night, the streets were packed and we ended up having to park in a garage two blocks down from Flux.
Ren stopped me as we walked out of the shadowy garage. "Are you ready for this?"
The question humored me. "Are you?"
He grinned. "I'm ready for anything and everything."
What he said came across as meaning a hell of a lot more than what we were about to do, and it brought that reckless feeling to the surface, as if I was standing at the edge of a cliff with one foot dangling off the precipice.
There wasn't much time to really think about that. We were at the club, and I needed to focus on what we were doing. A human male worked the front door, checking IDs, but he appeared to be more interested in the way we looked than how old we were or who we were.
He eyed us like we were cows being auctioned off.
"Have fun," he said, voice sounding like he'd swallowed nails as he handed our IDs back to us.
Tiny hairs rose along my arms as we crossed the deep blue carpet in front of the tinted black double doors. The low, melodic thump of music drifted outside. The door opened before we reached it. Another human male, brawny and rough looking with a shaved head, had opened it.
Ren's hand settled at the small of my back as we stepped inside. I wasn't scared, and I probably should've been, but curiosity was the reigning emotion as I got my first look at the club trolled by ancients.
It looked so incredibly normal, like any upscale club in any large city. Lit with low, flattering lights, there were a lot of dark areas full of shadow-shaped people at the fringe of a large, slightly raised dance floor. On the other side was a long bar with brighter lights showing off the line of high priced liquors. A spiral staircase was near the bar, leading to a second floor. From our vantage point, I could see couches and roped off areas.
Ren dipped his head, his mouth enticingly close to my ear. "Merida has nothing on you, babe."
My lips curved into a grin at the mention of the Disney chick. "Thanks."
He straightened. "It's the God's honest truth."
A loud thump thundered from the back of the house. I cringed as Ren glanced down the hall, his lips turning down at the corners. "What was that?"
A very dead brownie if he didn't knock it off. "I . . . I have a cat. It probably knocked something over."
Ren lifted a brow. "You have a cat?"
"Yeah, a really annoying cat. It's old. Gonna die soon," I said, speaking louder. "I've been thinking about getting it euthanized, you know, to put it out of its misery." The thumping noise came again, and my lips pursed as I inhaled deeply through my nose.
"Well, uh . . . sorry to hear that," Ren said. "What's his name?"
"Tink," I blurted out.
"That's different. Does it stand for anything?"
"Nothing at all. We should be going," I added quickly. "Just let me grab my purse."
Of course, Ren followed me into the kitchen, and I could only pray that Tink stopped doing whatever the hell he was doing in his room. An image of him tossing troll dolls against the wall filled my mind, and I had to bite down on the inside of my cheek to stop the laugh that was building.
"Have a problem with the sugar?" he asked, grinning at the counter.
My gaze fell to the two piles of sugar as I grabbed the black, beaded clutch I'd picked up from a shop in the Quarter and slipped the strap around my wrist. "I'm . . . messy."
He gave a little shake of his head as his lashes lifted. "Doesn't look like that in the rest of the apartment."
I forced a causal shrug. "I'm ready."
Luckily, Ren dropped it and followed me outside. Surprise flitted through me when we stepped out of the courtyard and I saw an older black truck parked along the curb. "Yours?"
"Yep." He stepped around me and opened up the passenger door. "It's been my baby since I was sixteen. It's what got me and the bike to New Orleans."
Biting my lip, I climbed in and smoothed the skirt of my dress. For some reason, a truck fit him. I don't know why I expected him to drive something fancy and fast, but it really did match his personality.
"Question?" he said, tone light. He leaned into the cab of the truck, one arm draped over the door. "You are carrying, right?"
"Yes. Of course."
He grinned as he peered through his thick lashes. "Where in the world are you hiding a weapon, Ivy? I'm dying to know."
I laughed softly and reached for the edge of my skirt. Hesitating for a second, I curled my fingers around the hem and slid it up, giving him a peek of the stake secured to my thigh.
"Damn, girl." He straightened, gripping the door. "That right there is what fantasies are made of."
Blood poured into my cheeks, and I was grateful it was dark out. Muttering a curse under his breath, he closed the door and jogged around the front of the truck. Once inside, he cranked the engine and soft music hummed out of the speakers. As he pulled away from the curb, I realized he was listening to an old Hank Williams' song.
I turned to him slowly.
He smiled crookedly. "Don't knock the music, sweetness. We're off to such a great start tonight. I'd hate to have to kick you out of the truck."
I snorted but didn't say anything as we made the trip into the business district. Since it was Saturday night, the streets were packed and we ended up having to park in a garage two blocks down from Flux.
Ren stopped me as we walked out of the shadowy garage. "Are you ready for this?"
The question humored me. "Are you?"
He grinned. "I'm ready for anything and everything."
What he said came across as meaning a hell of a lot more than what we were about to do, and it brought that reckless feeling to the surface, as if I was standing at the edge of a cliff with one foot dangling off the precipice.
There wasn't much time to really think about that. We were at the club, and I needed to focus on what we were doing. A human male worked the front door, checking IDs, but he appeared to be more interested in the way we looked than how old we were or who we were.
He eyed us like we were cows being auctioned off.
"Have fun," he said, voice sounding like he'd swallowed nails as he handed our IDs back to us.
Tiny hairs rose along my arms as we crossed the deep blue carpet in front of the tinted black double doors. The low, melodic thump of music drifted outside. The door opened before we reached it. Another human male, brawny and rough looking with a shaved head, had opened it.
Ren's hand settled at the small of my back as we stepped inside. I wasn't scared, and I probably should've been, but curiosity was the reigning emotion as I got my first look at the club trolled by ancients.
It looked so incredibly normal, like any upscale club in any large city. Lit with low, flattering lights, there were a lot of dark areas full of shadow-shaped people at the fringe of a large, slightly raised dance floor. On the other side was a long bar with brighter lights showing off the line of high priced liquors. A spiral staircase was near the bar, leading to a second floor. From our vantage point, I could see couches and roped off areas.
