Blacklisted (2 page)

Shanel and I stopped at the edge of the foyer and gazed at a scene we'd only been able to dream about. Until now. Smoke billowed in every direction and rock music blasted from hidden amplifiers. Pink, blue, and yellow lights swirled from the center of the dance floor, illuminating the throng of writhing, dancing people.

The walls produced holographic images of kissing couples and I had to press my lips together to keep from staring in open-mouthed awe. And jealousy.

“Where should we go?” I asked Shanel, projecting my voice over the music.

“Want to try the second level?” She pointed upward. “We can look down and see if the guys are dancing.”

I nodded. We maneuvered through people and smoke and pounded up the stairs. I almost screamed when the steps began to waver, swinging slowly from side to side. My fingers curled around the rail, keeping me steady.

Moving stairs wasn't a smart thing to have in a building that served alcohol. What if someone fell? I mean, really.
Lawsuit
. My dad was an attorney and that was just the sort of thing he lived for.

When we reached the second level, the music faded to a dull screech and I realized it was because glass panels circled the entire enclosure, not only blocking sound but preventing anyone from tumbling to their death.

“I've heard about stairs like that,” Shanel told me with a wide grin. “When a person has had too much to drink, it's supposed to balance their equilibrium. This is so fan-freaking-tastic!” Laughing, she flounced to the bar.

I followed her and rested my elbows on the speckled counter.

“What'll you have, miss?” the bartender immediately asked me. He was a Delensean. He had blue skin—all of his kind did—and six arms, making him able to serve multiple people at once.

“Um, uh…”

He tapped his fingers in impatience.

“Water, please,” I finally said.

He slapped all six of his hands on the emerald-veined marble separating us. “This is a bar, human, not a bathhouse. Order a drink or leave.”

“O—okay. I'll have a Mad Mec, then.” That's what my mom always ordered when we went out for dinner.

When my drink arrived, a glowing red liquid in a frosted glass, I picked it up and turned to Shanel, who was sipping some kind of orange concoction. “Mmm,” she said through a sigh. “This is good.”

I pretended to sip mine, letting the fiery red liquid tease (and numb) my lips. I did
not
want to get drunk and make a fool of myself in front of Erik.

“Ohmygod!” Shanel suddenly gasped out and pointed. “Silver's here. He's really here!”

“Where?” Heart hammering, I whipped around to face the direction in which she pointed. I caught the barest hint of wide shoulders and blue hair before Silver disappeared up the stairs.

“Let's go before we lose him.” Shanel raced forward.

I remained close on her heels. “Did you see any sign of Erik?”

“No, sorry,” she threw over her shoulder, red curls bouncing. “But he has to be here somewhere. They're never far apart.”

The revolving steps didn't freak me out this time and I managed to climb them with ease. However, I was moving so quickly my drink sloshed over the rim of my glass, running down my hand. Ick. Sticky.

Shanel stopped at the top and stomped her foot. “I don't see him. Do you?”

My gaze scanned the area. There weren't many people this high up, which made my search very easy. They weren't here. “Let's go up one more level,” I said, disappointed.

“Hurry.”

We tread the rest of the way up the stairs and stood at the edge of the highest level. This far up, the music was barely a hum. There were quite a few people scattered about, talking and laughing, some sitting at tables, some lounging on black velvet couches.

“I see him,” Shanel whispered fiercely. She gripped my forearm. “He's talking to Erik.”

My mouth dried completely, leaving no hint of moisture. “Where?” I whispered just as fiercely, my gaze once again moving over the room.

“On the far couch. Sitting by the—Ohmygod, they're looking this way.” She turned away from them, facing me. “Act natural. Say something funny.”

“Uh—uh…” Suddenly my gaze connected with Erik's and I lost my breath. What should I do? What the hell should I do?

In my dreams, Erik always smiled the first moment he spied me. He always stood and approached me, wanting desperately to be near me. To touch me…to kiss me. In reality, his brown eyes narrowed on me; his lips thinned. In displeasure? My heart sank. Why displeasure? Did I look
that
bad?

As always,
he
looked amazing. His light hair was shaggy and hung over his forehead; the dark roots gleamed in the shadowy light. I think his hair was naturally brown, but he looked good as a blond. He had an eyebrow ring, a slightly crooked nose that had probably been broken a time or two, and sharp-as-glass cheekbones.

Out of his school uniform—the same white button-up and black slacks I had to wear—he was yummy. Right now he wore a black T-shirt and faded jeans. Both hugged him deliciously.

Shanel forced a laugh. “Oh, that's hilarious, Camille. Absolutely hilarious.”

“What is?” I asked, feeling like I was locked in some sort of trance. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe his lips hadn't thinned in displeasure but in admiration.

She laughed again, the sound more strained. “That's even funnier.”

Finally Erik tore his gaze from me and I realized I hadn't done anything but stare at him.
Way to act like a sophisticated, older woman, Robins. I'm sure you're everything he's ever wanted and more, you idiot
.

“There's an empty table,” I said, trying to keep my embarrassment from my tone. “Let's sit down.”

“Good idea.”

My heartbeat refused to slow down, slamming against my ribs with excess force. Thankfully I didn't trip—or cry or throw up. I claimed the seat facing
away
from Erik. I'd stare at him some more if I had a direct view of him, and I knew it.

I plopped my drink onto the table as Shanel eased beside me. “Is anyone looking at us now?” I asked.

“No.” She sighed in disappointment.

Oh. My shoulders slumped. “Well, what are they doing?”

“They're talking to a dark-haired man wearing a black cloth over the lower half of his face. And three Morevv females,” she huffed.

I heard the jealousy in Shanel's tone and experienced a wave of my own. While Morevv males were gorgeous, Morevv females were exquisite. Breathtaking. Their features were always total perfection: small, straight noses, up-tilted eyes, symmetrical cheekbones, flawless skin.

“Maybe we should go over there,” she suggested.

“No!” I shouted, then felt my cheeks bloom bright. “No,” I said more quietly. “Let's wait until they're alone.” I wanted to talk to Erik, yes, but I wanted to do it without a group watching my every move, hearing my every word, and witnessing my every mistake.

Shanel chewed on her bottom lip. “What if they leave?”

“That's a chance I'm willing to take.” Better to miss an opportunity than to humiliate myself.

A blanket of vulnerability fell over her features. “I just…well…do you think those too-gorgeous-to-live Morevvs are Silver's family? The girls, I mean?”

“Absolutely,” I said, but I didn't sound convincing. Most guys I knew didn't hang out with their family at clubs. They were probably girlfriends. Or potential girlfriends. I so wanted to turn around and observe their body language with Erik.
Don't do it. Don't you dare do it
. “What are they doing now?”

“Still talking.”

“Is Erik paying any attention to the women?”

“No, but they're eyeing him like he's free candy, all you can eat. It's disgusting, really. They're
old
.”

Old. Great. Just what Erik liked. My jealousy intensified. I took a moment to breathe, letting my attention snag on a group of human girls just exiting the stairs. They approached the bar.

I was willing to bet they were only slightly older than me, but they looked infinitely tougher, each one radiating a palpable air that said “I'd rather kick your ass than talk to you.” They were a smorgasbord of colors, from brunettes, to blondes, and even a redhead. One of the girls even had a blue trident tattooed on her cheek.

Shanel gazed from the group of guys to the group of girls I'd just noticed. “Erik paled when he saw them,” she said, claiming my attention once again. “Do you think he knows them?” With barely a breath, she added, “Score! There's an empty table next to the guys. If we move, we can listen to their conversation.”

I shook my head violently. “We can't switch tables. That's too obvious.”

“Well, we can't just sit here, either. I've
got
to know what they're saying.” She downed the rest of her drink and slammed the glass on the table. “Give me a minute to think, and—wait. I know what we can do.” Reaching out, she hit my glass and “accidentally” knocked it over.

Liquid spilled toward me and I jumped to my feet with a yelp.

“Oh, damn,” she proclaimed loudly. “I'm so clumsy, I knocked over your drink.”

Several droplets splattered on my boots and I frowned over at Shanel. “A little warning next time would be greatly appreciated.”

“Sorry. I had an idea, and I went with it.” For our now-avid audience she said, “Guess we'll have to switch tables.”

I almost groaned. Not so obvious, huh?

Satisfaction gleamed in Shanel's green eyes as she stood.

Someone rushed over to clean the mess so that we wouldn't have to move, but we hurriedly strode to the now empty table in front of Erik and the Morevvs. I knew they were watching us—I felt the heat of their gazes boring into me—and knew I once again sported another blush.

I hated,
hated
that I couldn't control the telltale sign of embarrassment.

We sat down and Shanel punched in an order on the wall unit for another drink. It arrived minutes later and we were left alone. Well, as alone as two girls inside of a club could get. I kept my back to the group. Call me a coward, but I still couldn't face them. Not yet.

I'd always been nervous around boys. The few I'd gone out with had been picked by my mother. Blind dates she'd set up with her coworkers' kids. Each had lasted exactly three hours. One hour for dinner and two for a movie, and each had been uncomfortable and utterly disappointing. Unlike Erik, none of them made my skin prickle with awareness and my stomach tighten in…I don't know what.

“Oh no!” Shanel said with a moan, cutting into my thoughts. “They're standing up.”

I straightened. “Where are they going?”

Even as I spoke, I heard Erik's deep voice say, “Thank you for agreeing to move this meeting elsewhere. Too many prying eyes and ears here.”

Uh-oh.
Caught
, I thought, cheeks heating again.

To my horror, Shanel waved and called, “Hi, Silver.”

I sank into my chair, barely stifling the urge to cover my burning face with my hands.

“Hey,” he returned, his tone wary. Confused.

A moment passed. Shanel frowned.

What had happened? Finally I gathered the courage to look. I turned in my seat and glanced over at the group. Silver had given Shanel his back, effectively ending all hope of conversation. Erik's attention was riveted on the dark-haired, half-masked man. His shoulders were stiff and his back ramrod straight.

“Come on,” Half-Mask said. “You were right. The air in here is a little…toxic right now.”

Erik nodded, his gaze sliding to the girls at the bar. Those same girls watched him, all of their eyes narrowed on him as if he were a target at gun practice. One of them, a tall, pretty Asian girl, even tipped her glass at him.

A muscle ticked in Erik's jaw.

I watched the byplay with a growing sense of dread. Did they know each other? Was she the kind of girl Erik found attractive? Probably.

In the next instant,
my
gaze connected with the beautiful Asian's. She'd stopped watching Erik and was now watching me. Me? Why? I tried not to flinch under her intense scrutiny, even though her dark, up-tilted eyes seemed to be cataloging my every flaw.

If I were brave, I would have flipped her off. But I wasn't, so I sat in my chair and did nothing. Cowardly Camille always did nothing.

My eyes widened as someone leaned toward me, getting all up in my personal space. I inched backward—until I realized it was Erik.

Shock held me immobile as his heat and pine scent surrounded me. Oh God. Oh God. Determination glinted in his dark eyes.