Chapter 3
Lyra leaned against the building across the street from the Witch’s Brew. A line of hopefuls waited between the velvet ropes, moving to the beat of the dance music that pounded through the walls and burst out like a fiend every time the door opened.
Dragons and Deuces had a variety of clubs just for their kind. Some were lounges, some were high-energy dance clubs like this one, and some were places that allowed darker sorts of entertainment. Or so she’d heard.
She had cruised past the line of Deuces who’d looked at her like she was some Deuce wannabe. As if. Now she was staking it out, waiting for…
Ah, there he was.
Archer pulled up in his Aston Martin, handed the valet his key, and headed toward the line.
Unlike her, he hadn’t conceded to the kind of style one would wear to a nightclub.
Or at least what she’d seen in the pictures, a lot of black and studs and skin.
Lyra had chosen a black shirt with a bleeding rose on the front, black pants, and studded high heels.
Though she’d be tagged as an outsider by her fiery eyes, at least she’d be dressed like them.
Archer looked as though he’d just come from a business meeting with his white long-sleeved shirt, though it was open at the collar. At least his dress pants were black. By his expression, which she could see as she neared him, he was not happy about going inside. In fact, he looked pained.
Just wait, baby. It’s only going to get worse when you see me.
He strode to the front of the line and approached the bouncer, a bulging steroid advertisement.
The guy’s smirk showed how ready he was to turn this pretty-boy Caido away.
As she neared, she heard Archer say, “You will let me into the club tonight. Go ahead, check your VIP list. I’m on there. Archer Grant.”
The bouncer’s face softened as he looked into Archer’s eyes, the mist in his own swirling faster. He scanned the list, nodded at the name that was not on there, and said, “Enjoy.”
She ran the remaining few steps and linked her arm around Archer’s arm as he began to go in. “I’m here, I’m here, sorry I’m late!” She flashed the bouncer a smile, seeing a glazed look in his eyes.
Archer’s eyes, however, were as sharp as cut glass. He was not fool enough to make a scene here, though. He reluctantly guided her ahead.
“You’re not surprised to see me here, are you?” she asked.
“No.”
“You’ve got to stop being so talkative. Yammer, yammer, yammer.” She hiked her thumb toward the door. “You mesmerized that guy, didn’t you?”
A man in a black suit opened the door for them, and pulsing music drowned out anything Archer might have said. He paid for both their cover charges, which surprised her. Was he resigned to her presence? Or maybe just a teensy bit happy he didn’t have to come in here alone?
Electronic dance music packed the dance floor. The bass throbbed through Lyra’s entire being, and lights flashed in smoke-choked air, lighting the haze blue, green, and red, over and over.
Several Air Elementals rode the music like invisible surfboards, their knobby knees and elbows bent, skinny arms out for balance.
They loved the nightclubs. Mischievous buggers, too, causing a ruckus when they pinched a butt here or there and disappeared into a mist, leaving some hapless Crescent to take the blame.
And the lushy ones would drain your drink if you weren’t paying attention.
She didn’t mind the Elementals, but her chest tightened and her Dragon shivered at being surrounded by so many Deuces, all staring at her.
Women had a whole different expression when their eyes alighted on Archer.
It wasn’t because the black lights changed his shirt into a brilliant purple or that he was using that mesmerizing thing on them, because his expression was as shuttered as could be.
Both men and women were drawn to him like a magnet. Two women slid through the crowd, purposely rubbing their bodies against his as they passed. A blond man paused in front of him, staring into his face. Archer stepped around him without missing a beat.
Another woman aimed for him like a rocket, her tongue tracing her red lips. She gripped his shoulders, her face close to his. “Dance with me.”
He removed her hands. “No.”
Everyone’s gaze was riveted on him. Hullo? Did no one see that Lyra was next to him? No, because several people touched him as though they couldn’t help themselves. In the flashes of light, she saw his tight mouth and the sheen of sweat on his skin.
“Beautiful…” one woman said, lifting her drink to him.
“Hey, gorgeous…” a man said, giving his shoulders a wriggle.
Exclamations floated between the beats as she and Archer worked their way to the bar. He looked as though he were in pain. She remembered Cyntag’s warning about touching Caidos, but here, women touched Archer with the reverence given to a demigod.
Lyra slid her arm through his, pressing tight by his side, aiming harsh glares at every person who approached with a hungry expression.
At his surprised expression, she winked to let him know she wasn’t coming on to him, too.
He stood out even among the magick men here.
He was purity, sensuality, and godlike beauty.
That Caidos rarely mixed with others made him even more alluring.
Women still reached for him, but Lyra pushed their hands away. “Mine. Hands off,” she growled, feeling her Dragon heat in possessiveness.
Just pretending!
Her Dragon purred, ignoring her, its talons kneading her skin. Mm, like.
Really? You haven’t felt that way about any of the Dragons I’ve dated. Why are you acting all sexy and wanting with a Caido?
Yummier than any of them.
Their beasts were carnal, predatory, but they didn’t always make sense.
She and Archer skirted the dance floor, jam-packed with writhing, rubbing, sliding bodies.
He tugged her toward a newly-vacant spot at the bar, where undulating colors lit the thick glass.
There were no available stools, just enough space for him to lean toward the female bartender and ask if she’d seen either Marik or Jeremy.
“Another Caido? Wow, this club’s getting interesting.” She stared at him for a second, then shook her head. “I haven’t seen Jeremy in a few days, but Marik’s here somewhere.” She searched the crowd. “I don’t see him at the moment.”
He ordered an absinthe, then turned to Lyra. “Drink?”
Definitely not an absinthe. “Cranberry and Absolut, please, dash of Tabasco.” He raised his eyebrow at that. “Dragons have a thing for, um, hot and spicy.”
Did she see his mouth quirk? Probably not.
Archer was anything but hot and spicy, though she wondered what was beneath the surface.
She tried to pay, but he ignored her outstretched hand and put money on the bar when the drinks arrived.
He handed her the shorter glass and gripped his as he scanned the people sitting at the bar.
Lyra looked for Marik, too, but was drawn again to the dance floor.
The sensuousness pulled at her, pulsing through her body with a song that was hard rock and electronica at once.
"Firestarter," the singer rapped, oddly appropriate to how she felt. She gulped half her drink and set it on the bar, her arm brushing Archer’s side.
She wanted to touch him. Knowing it was the Thrall didn’t quell her desire one bit.
She didn’t even realize she’d begun to move to the beat until her butt brushed against him.
The music was irresistible, too. She turned to him, nearly his height with her high heels, and moved close to his ear.
Unfortunately, that action pressed her breasts against his chest.
“Now I know why you looked so pained about coming here. Is this what it’s like, people wanting to touch you all the time?”
He kept his gaze on the dance floor. “Everything about this is painful.”
“What is it that makes me—people—want to touch you? It’s beyond that you’re gorgeous. It’s a compulsion.”
He leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. “It’s our energy, the essence we carry from our ancestors.”
His face was only inches from hers, the shimmer in his eyes pulling at her, making her eyes heavy.
It took her two tries before her mouth worked enough to ask, “Are you mesmerizing me on purpose?”
He didn’t look away. “No.”
“I won’t touch you. I’m stronger than your pull.”
His mouth turned up in a soft smile. “I am Dragon, hear me roar?”
She laughed, breaking out of the spell. “Yeah, something like that. I’m just saying, you don’t have to worry about me mauling you.
I am totally into Dragons. Their heat. Their fire.
” She dragged in a breath. Oh my, the way his eyes held her gaze felt as though she’d swallowed half a bottle of champagne.
Speak. Don’t stand there staring at him like a nudge.
“Kirin, my twin, fell in love with a Deuce, and I don’t get that at all. We should stick with our own kind.”
“I’m glad you feel that way.”
A woman returned to her seat at the bar next to them, forcing Lyra to shift closer to Archer. The woman’s gaze lingered on his face, and Lyra settled against him and shot her a territorial look, obviously with him.
Archer smiled then, a real one that tightened her chest. “Wait a minute. Are you…my guardian Dragon?”
His gaze dropped to her mouth, a sure sign that a man was thinking of kissing her. Her heart didn’t trip at the thought; it did a complete flip. She involuntarily ran her tongue over her lips, imagining that Cupid’s-bow mouth sliding across hers.
The ice in his eyes shimmered. His fingers slid against the side of her neck. He watched his hand with interest, as though it were moving of its own volition. As though he’d never touched a woman’s neck before. He looked mesmerized. By her. By touching her.
But Caidos were asexual. Right? He’d been unmoved by all those people groping at him, sexy women wearing dresses that gaped right down to their navels with big breasts about to pop out and sculpted men with beautiful faces.
Archer, acting very un-asexual, pulled his fingers through her hair, watching it fall back against her collarbone. His thumb trailed from beneath her chin down her throat, settling into the hollow.
She couldn’t breathe. Even though all she could see were his light brown lashes, she was just as spellbound as he. Everything felt surreal, only lights and music and no one else but them, and the whole place was spinning like one of those revolving restaurants, only faster and—
She reached out and touched his face, and he jerked back as though her fingers were on fire. His arm bumped the man on the other side of him.
“Hey, idiot!” The beefy Deuce’s shoulders puffed, his eyes wobbly with drink.
They narrowed when he saw the object of his anger.
“What the hell is your kind doing here? Bad enough we have the pretty boy bartender dick magnet.” His gaze shifted to her.
“And a Dragon? You two don’t belong here.
” He shifted off his stool, ready for trouble.
Her Dragon pulsed at the threat. Archer’s eyes sparked, though his body language hadn’t stiffened into fight mode. He did, however, wrap one hand around her wrist while his gaze remained on the aggressive Deuce. “I belong wherever I am.”
The drunk lunged toward Archer.
Archer’s hand came up so fast she didn’t even see the movement.
A bright white light flashed from his palm.
The guy dropped to the floor, sending several people scattering.
Archer settled back against the bar, and the gawkers, seeing that the show—and threat—was over, returned to their business.
A couple of guys dragged the jerk away, keeping a wary eye on Archer.
Lyra glanced at the hand still wrapped around her wrist. Seeing her gaze, he released it.
She leaned closer. “Were you restraining me or protecting me?”
“Both.”
Pulled into his gaze again, she had to force out the words, “I don’t need either. I’m perfectly capable of handling myself.”
She could understand being mesmerized by him, the Thrall and all, but he couldn’t seem to pull his gaze from her either. The way he’d run his fingers through her hair and down her throat with wonder…Holy hellfire, had they been about to kiss?
But their attention was drawn away by the bartender as he said, “Here you go, Kye.”