A little wager in love and war
21
Dance clubs were a testament to how far I’d come since becoming immortal.
The music was loud, voices chaotic. Smells were pungent, from bodily to artificial, like a brothel inside of a perfume factory. And I won’t even start on the lights. But with Riftan pressed against my form, swaying to the music in a heap of mortal bodies, I almost felt at home. What was once an assault on my senses had become a numbing embrace of the madness.
It helped that Riftan always started the night by ordering us a round of drinks. I’d learned to follow his routine, throwing back his drink of choice for the night even if I felt content being sober. Most of the time, it was Riftan who needed that inebriety to let loose, since he tended to tense up in thickly mortal-populated places, but after a couple of drinks, maybe a few shots, he was the most jovial person in the room. Then, we could dance until the sun came up as if we were the only two people in the world.
We had spent many nights doing exactly that. I was no stranger to dancing with Riftan. Somewhere along the way, clubbing became the only real tension release we got. It was the only time we could get away with anything. On a dance floor, Riftan would allow any form of perverse behavior, and the once self-renowned club skank in my blood fed off that. Riftan never complained. If anything, he instigated it. At the end of the night, it didn’t mean anything. Even I understood it was funand nothing more. There were no sentimental or romantic attachments to the act of dirty dancing whatsoever—not to either of us.
Not usually.
However, I couldn’t say the same for this night. Maybe it was that ticking time bomb, our over-blown balloon, whatever you wanted to call the stupid tension between us, but I couldn’t dance with Riftan the way I usually did. Every movement his hips made, riding my ass with startling force, shot a shockwave of heat throughout my being. Working in circles, he attempted to coerce my body to follow like it’d done thousands of times in the past, but I couldn’t match his intensity for fear that I might overheat—maybe turn into a puddle right there on the dance floor.
Like it’d persuade my movements, Riftan slid his hands down over my smooth, silver dress, taking his time to cover every curve.
Oh, how that isn’t helping.
His breath prickled at my neck as he reached down past my hips, his long arms assisting in easily closing the distance separating his fingers from my bare thighs below the high hem of my skirt. The contact was tantalizing, and it snatched the air from my lungs when he dug his fingers into my legs. My tiny little skirt hiked, hardly shy of flashing the other clubgoers as Riftan skimmed his hands back up in the direction they’d come.
The glitzy little silver dress I wore fit me in all the right places and shined like it’d been made from the guts of a real disco ball—but God was it short. While I loved showing off my legs, this risque number wasn’t leaving enough to the imagination in the situation between Riftan and I. God, why do I have to be such a slut?
I shouldn’t have asked, because I knew the answer: the dress was a showstopper, and I’d really wanted to get Riftan’s attention. Oh, how I needed to be careful what I wished for.
Looking to catch my breath, I shimmied away from Riftan, the idea to make it look intentional, like it was part of the dance. But he pulled me right back; his strong grip pressed my metallic dress into the skin around my waist, and his words were hot in my ear. “Is everything alright, love? Do you need another drink?”
God, his lips are touching my ear.
He knew I was stiff, but he didn’t understand the cause of it. I had gone through a phase before when I couldn’t loosen up without a few drinks. That was right when I’d been getting used to my overwhelming senses and settling back into society. But that was long ago, and social anxiety wasn’t the issue anymore.
I shook my head, deciding to toughen up rather than make a big deal out of it. Riftan was the one who’d wanted to go dancing, and I didn’t need to ruin it for him. If all else failed, I could fake it till I made it. I’d always been good at faking it—I did date Johnny, after all—and usually, if I faked it well enough, I could start to feel it, too. Preparing myself for a little mind over matter, I took a deep breath and did what I knew—regardless of how much it stoked the blazing inferno inside me. Steady and sure, I swayed with Riftan, letting him dictate our pace. My hands grazed his at my waist before pressing into my unrestrained breasts, brushing over my hair, and landing on his cheek, where it hovered above my head. He leaned into my touch, letting me reach through his hair and settle against his neck. With my hold on him, I could leverage our bodies together and keep tempo with him without having to think about it.
Pressed into him, I emptied my mind—or I tried to. But what I wished to be numbness was instead a deafening static that transcended tolerable limits once I focused on how much of him I could feel against my back. His hands dug into the fabric that very much still clung to my stomach, a meek reminder of the flimsy dress that was doing nothing to muffle the desire between us. Every protruding muscle pressed against me, and an unambiguous bulge wedged against my ass. Molded together, I theorized I could paint a picture of his naked body as though there were no clothes between us.
Finding that my mind was too weak to outweigh this matter, I spun in his grip until we were face to face. He smiled at my change of pace and pulled me in, breathing the air that expelled from my lips when our bodies met once more. His eyes clutched my gaze, only inches away, begging me to get lost in them the way I often did. But I’d already fixated on the much more distracting lump pressed between my thighs and grinding against my most sensitive spot.
The fast-paced electronic beat pounding from the overhead speakers wasn’t conducive to any other kind of dancing, and we weren’t doing anything different from every other attendee in the club. But not even that knowledge helped me fight the chaotic internal combustion Riftan’s body evoked. My gaze wavered, finding purchase on his grey button-up shirt. My nerves screamed to get away from Riftan, or to have more of him; I didn’t know which was worse.
His breath tickled my scalp as he nuzzled into my hair and trailed slowly toward my neck, where his lips settled against my skin.
Like his lips had zapped me with electricity, I jolted away from Riftan, putting an arm’s length between us fast enough he couldn’t stop my retreat. “I’ll be right back,” I yelled over the commotion of the dance floor.
Riftan nodded, but his smile lessened. It knew I wasn’t my normal self. That smile knew so much more than it would let on. Turning away from him, I breathed in the offensive scents of the mortal crowd and cleared my mind while I made my way off the dance floor. I wasn’t taking that moment merely to run from Riftan, I actually had an idea to turn our night around, and it involved a necessary tempo change.
Tucked away at the front of the club, there was a doorway that led onto the DJ’s tiny stage. It was flanked with bouncers who were simple enough to thrall—though even before becoming immortal, I probably could have still persuaded my way past them. I charmed the young man on the soundboard without the use of any immortal hypnotization. I then requested a change of pace and gave him an idea of what I wanted—something jazzier. He winked at me, nodding a response that told me I wouldn’t have to thrall him. Apparently, Jameson had been right, and my charm alone was as good as any hypnotism.
Satisfied, I returned to the mass of people filling the dance floor. As I sunk into the writhing crowd, the music softened, hardly a lull between tracks as it seamlessly blended into a new song. A smooth woman’s vocals set the mood, silence behind it coating the room as club goers adjusted to the change. Carried by the gentle synth and upbeat tempo, the singer’s voice started to take a familiar shape, resembling the lyrics of a popular Nine Inch Nails song. A peppy violin added to the mix as I reached the center of the mass where I’d left Riftan.
I swayed to the music, finding the funky rhythm easy to follow and definitely suited to what I’d asked for.
Riftan’s wavy black head of hair stood above the others in the crowd. Sneaking past the horde of other vacillating mortals, my view opened up to show another much smaller being standing toe to toe with him. Though everyone was mashed close to one another in the crowd, this little blonde creature had perched her petite made-up face practically against Riftan’s chest. She batted her eyelashes at him, shimmying in an ugly orange cocktail dress.
Riftan’s brows formed a harsh V before he scanned the crowd over the blonde head. When our eyes met, he relaxed, a smile creeping up his cheeks. He took a quick glance at the woman and back at me before raising both his hands to show that he didn’t have his hands on the girl. Without another look her way, he slipped away and met me where I stood on the dance floor.
“I like the music.” He took my hand and spun me in a circle. “Do you have something to do with that?”
“Nope. Coincidence I guess.” I winked.
Without letting go of my hand, Riftan stepped into me, putting us chest to chest. Instead of grinding his hips on mine, he swayed with me, swinging us to the disco style beat with none of the unchaste undertones from before. I giggled with every spin, my cheeks becoming sore from an overbearing grin that was merely mimicking Riftan’s.
We could have danced like that until the world stopped.
When the vocals faded out and all that remained was a dwindling trumpet solo, my heart dropped to think it was coming to an end. But the tempo didn’t change, even as the song did, fusing into another upbeat dance tune.
Thank god, I really charmed the pants off that DJ.
The throng around us cheered, a merry vibe coating the atmosphere for what felt like hours of dancing. After a certain point, the dance floor usually began to filter out, but not this crowd. The lot of us were caught up in a contagious aura that had formed one comprehensive body moving to the music.
I’d never tire of that, but I hit pause on my fun to offer Riftan a drink. He agreed, as I expected, and I made my way to the bar. Without my superhuman abilities, it still would have been easy to spot that I had a shadow following me there. The shadow was small and blonde, not tall and handsome like one I’d left in the throng of people.
Ordering my drink, I eyed the small girl who took the seat next to me at the bar. Her gaze glued to me, penetrating my personal space with only a look.
“That boyfriend of yours is pretty hot,” she bit out, the words rolling off her tongue that lingered against her parted lips.
“Boyfriend? Oh, right. Riftan.” I was so accustomed to our situationship that our appearance slipped my mind. No fucking duh we looked like a couple from the outside.
Beside me, the petite blonde smacked her lips, shaking out a head full of fake hair. She was the same girl who had pressed herself against Riftan earlier; I’d recognize a gaudy orange dress like hers anywhere—it’d probably haunt my nightmares. She carried herself with a high horse kind of air that said she thought she was the hottest skank in that club. To be fair, she was pretty, even if her caked on makeup and fake tits weren’t really my style.
“Oh, Riftan. Damn, even his name is hot.” She nearly drooled over the bar, looking in his direction and then back at me with a mocking arched brow.
The bitch was bold, I’d give her that. Even if she wasn’t my type, I was starting to like her—in the, I want to murder you and drink your blood, kind of way.
“How about this,” she continued in my silence. “I’ll offer you a little wager in love and war.”
I looked her over.
“How much do you believe in his loyalty to you?”
“Excuse me?” I narrowed my eyes at her.
“Your boyfriend. If I can get him to kiss me, then I win. And in return, I keep him. That’s the wager.”
Skank.I didn’t know if Riftan was necessarily loyal. We had no relationship for him to be loyal to. But that hadn’t stopped him from making a promise to me—one he had blatantly been adhering to.
“Fine. He’s faithful to me, so you can do your worst. I don’t give a shit.” I feigned nonchalance, rolling my eyes and signaling for the bartender.
“Suit yourself,” the girl hissed, her face contorting in wicked delight. With that, she bobbed her little blonde head through the crowd until she reached Riftan, who swayed haphazardly while he waited for me.
The second that girl opened her mouth, Riftan looked at me, his expression flat.
I shrugged, gesturing at the girl by his feet. It wasn’t until I nodded at him that he looked at the girl, like he’d been permitted to talk to her.
Their interaction wasn’t as nerve wracking as it should have been. Riftan had already stoked my confidence by not giving that chick the time of day without looking to me for permission. Though we weren’t romantic, at least I could depend on him to be loyal—if that combination of sentiments made any sense.
Only moments into their conversation, Riftan glanced at me, then back at the girl. In feigned obedience, he nodded and the girl took his hand, leading him off the dance floor.
My heart skipped a beat, but my faith was restored when Riftan tipped his head for me to follow them. I did so, leaving the drinks I’d ordered behind and stalking the pair as they made their way toward the back rooms that hid behind velvet curtains and ropes.
The girl slipped into one and pulled Riftan in behind her.
I lingered for a moment, giving them some time before thralling the bouncer to let me follow.
Behind the thick velvet curtain, it was dark, the loud music muted. Against the back wall, a candle illuminated a round cushioned booth matching the plush velvet of the entryway. Riftan and the woman both glowed in the warm light, side by side, cuddled up in the booth. He still had that bored look on his face, but it wasn’t an abnormal expression for him. Contrarily, the girl showed her teeth in the most uncontrollably smug way, already leaning into him, all too rushed to win her bet.
Riftan held up his hand between them, covering her entire face with his palm, never flinching in his expression. Instead of thralling her to stop, he pushed the girl away by her face, making her teeter backwards.
She scoffed, her neck flushing red as she patted down her nose to adjust the smudged makeup.
Unable to contain myself, I let out a laugh and closed the distance in the room.
The girl whipped her head around to meet me, her thinly plucked brows furling. “What are you doing here? We had a bet,” she complained.
“We did.” I leaned over the table, crossing my arms against it in a way that heaved my cleavage taut across the neckline of my dress. “And I think you’ve lost, honey.”
Riftan’s eyes darted to my chest before he cleared his throat and accused, “So, this exchange is your fault?”
“No.” I leaned in further, craving the attention he’d so swiftly lent to my body. “I merely went along with this hussy’s idea of a fun wager.”
The girl spoke up, her voice whiny like a spoiled teen. “And I would have won, too, if you hadn’t stepped in so early. Are you really so insecure that you couldn’t see it through till the end?”
“Ha,” I offered her a patronizing laugh. “I simply know when I’ve won. Riftan, make this simple. Tell the girl she’s not cute and that she can fuck off.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that she isn’t cute.”
I eyed him with what may have come across as a death stare.
“Darling, I think what you want me to tell you is that she’s not as cute as you are.” He stood from his spot across the table and leaned into me, his nose inches from mine. Swift hands caressed my cheek, bringing me closer. He continued, low and sultry, his words meant for me, and only me. “In which, I can assure you, nobody is. But she definitely does not deserve the privilege to be compared to your beauty.”
The girl groaned in disgust, her noise like an afterthought in the precipice of my mind.
Riftan nipped his fangs at my nose before retreating, dropping back into his seat with a satisfied smirk.
When I stared at him, completely dissociated from anything else that had been happening before, Riftan broke eye contact, smacking his hands on the table and shimmying out of his spot. Leaning against the table next to me, he twirled a piece of my hair but still avoided my stare that’d followed him to my side. “Well, do let me in on the surprise. What’d you win in this little bet?” He flicked a look at me, then back on my hair.
Letting out a breath, I looked to the girl who very much still sat in the booth, regardless of how insignificant her presence had become to me. “I don’t know. The slut was too full of herself to consider the possibility that I’d win. She didn’t ask what I wanted in return.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she played along, at least a good sport. “So, what is it you want for winning? I’ll give it to you.”
I had a feeling she’d cough up almost anything I asked for, just to show she could. But unfortunately for her, I didn’t want money, and I could get my own things.
Without hesitation, I made my request. “How about your life?”