Hidden

X. Alcohol and Magic Spells (II.)

"So," she paused dramatically and raised her eyebrows, "the dance?" She crossed her legs, rested her right elbow on the table, and dropped her chin on the palm of her hand.

He got off the stool and held out his hand to her. She gave him a long stare of disbelief, looked down at his hand, then back up at his face. He sighed deeply. "Don't waste my time, bîtch."

She ignored his reference and placed her slim, feminine hand onto his bigger hand. She was even surprised to find it smooth. Maybe smoother than hers.

He drew her up and practically dragged her to the dancefloor—in her heels. She muttered curses under her breath. And he pretended not to hear her.

On the dancefloor, Eric danced with the grace of an inconsiderate gentleman. Kathryn had a difficult time keeping up with his rough moves.

"You know, you don't have to be a prick on the dancefloor." She rolled her eyes when she saw that he was silent and avoiding her face. "Look at me, Eric." No response. "What's up with you, àsshöle?"

Just then, his grip on her waist tightened. The wind was knocked out of her lungs and she started panting.

He leaned close to her, his hot breath fanning her ear. "Say one more word, and I'll choke the life out of you." Then, he heard her gulp. "Good." He quickly pulled away and twirled her around ungracefully.

When the music changed to jazz, he dragged her away from the floor. She thought they were heading back to the snack bar, but was surprised to see the wide, sliding glass doors at the southern end of the room.

"Why the balcony?" she questioned.

As usual, she got no reply. Her imaginations began to run wild. Was he finally giving in to her charms? Would he kiss her? Maybe he'd apologise for his uncouth manners on the dancefloor. Or maybe he—

"Don't flatter yourself with whatever you have going on in that wilted brain of yours," he said, breaking her train of thoughts. Her scent had changed, and it told him that her mind was processing things he wouldn't like if he knew of them.

She rolled her eyes at him for the second time that night.

When they were at the balcony, Eric pushed her to the wall, and pinned her there. She opened her mouth to protest, but her words got stuck in her throat at the feel of his nose nuzzling the side of her neck. A breathy moan escaped her lips when he kissed a spot.

"What're you doing here?" he murmured against her skin. "Hmm? Tell me. What do you want? Why do you want my attention?"

"What... What if... I can't say?" Her eyes rolled back in her head when she felt his teeth graze the soft flesh and pull it slightly.

"But you must. I'm curious." When she wasn't replying, he went on. "You smell different from the others. I can't even read your mind." The hold of his arms around her waist tightened. "What makes you different?" He looked up into Kathryn's eyes, his own rimmed with tinted blue. "What are you?"

"Vampire. Like you. But not pureblood." Her words flowed out of her lips freely as she stared into his more powerful eyes. "I'm also an illusionist. From my mother's side."

"Then what do you want from me?" he asked huskily.

"Quranda sent me to you," she said, breathing heavily.

"You mean the queen of the Vibue vampires?" She nodded. "What does she want from me?"

"Your blood."

The rings in his eyes blazed brighter.

"She believes your mixed blood will be perfect for the ritual." She kept on holding his compelling gaze.