4. Dani

I should have known that when Rose said we were going to get laid tonight, she was really talking about her.

I sip on my third beer of the night as another laugh erupts from the blonde's throat at something this tall, dark and handsome stranger said. I roll my eyes. Even after buying us two rounds of tequila shots he's still not that funny. And his eyes—I didn't like how he was looking at Rose, like a wolf sizing up its prey. It was unnerving.

“You alright, miss?”

I turn my head to see the bartender staring back at me. He was a mountain of a man, with arms as big around as tree trunks and thick tufts of hair blanketing their length. His chestnut mane was pulled back into a messy bun and his face was nearly obscured by a full beard. One bushy eyebrow was raised in what looked like concern as his green eyes glanced me up and down. Was he sizing me up, too?

“Uh, y-yeah,” I whisper, and I immediately hate how uncomfortable I sound. Why was I stammering? I was usually much more sociable than this.

Come on, Dani, buck up!

I clear my throat and say, a little louder, “I'm fine.” I must not sound very convincing because he doesn't look convinced. Do I really look that pitiful?

“You new in town?” he asks as he wipes down a glass. “Haven't seen you around before.”

“No. I just haven't been in here before.” Clubs haven't been my usual scene since Monica and I were together, and even then it took quite a few drinks before I ventured over to the dance floor. Why did I agree to come out again?

With a sigh I turn my head and freeze.

Standing at the far end of the bar, sporting that familiar black leather jacket, is Red. Her slitted gaze connects with mine and her eyes widen ever so slightly in recognition. I feel a heat seep into my cheeks as she flashes me a lopsided grin and I pray that I don't melt into a puddle right then and there.

She looked at me. This redheaded goddess looked right at me, and she smiled at me! Does she remember me? Hopefully she remembers that I don't speak French. Actually, I hope she's forgotten all about that catastrophe.

My fingers comb nervously through my hair and I'm suddenly very aware of my appearance. If I knew she was going to be here then I would have dressed in something a little more—how did Rose put it, appetizing?—than simple skinny jeans and a sleeveless blouse. At least I opted for heels this time instead of settling on total comfort and slipping on my sneakers.

Should I go say hi? Do I even remember how to speak? Or maybe she could do all the talking. I wouldn't mind just sitting down and listening to her honey-coated words. She could probably make a conversation about paint drying sound like the most interesting thing in the world.

You know what? Saying hello couldn't hurt—

A blur of motion draws my attention and my heart sinks. Oh, right. The devil in stilettos. And she has her painted lips pressed against Red's cheek.

Is it possible to feel dejected twice in one day?

I choke down a groan and turn my attention back to the beer in front of me. This night is going just swimmingly.

“See something you like?”

I look up at the bartender, whose gaze is now trained on Red and her—who exactly was that woman anyway, her girlfriend? Were they dating? Do I even want to know?

When I don't respond he turns back to me. “Stay away from that one,” he says, his voice so low I had to practically lean over the counter to hear him. “She reeks of trouble.”

“Wait, you know Red?” I cringe when I realize that I said her nickname out loud.

He quirks a brow, his thin lips twitching ever so slightly. “You're interested in Ashe?”

So, her name is Ashe. Six months of watching her from a distance and I finally learn her name. In a bar, of all places, and from a bartender who seems to know her pretty well. Is that a good thing?

“Is it that obvious?” I mutter as I lift the glass to my lips. If he can see it, then I'm doomed.

“I can smell—” He clears his throat and shakes his head. “You just have that look.”

A look of desperate longing? Oh great, I really am that pathetic. How many people have sat at this very bar with this same look that he can so easily recognize it? Is this a common thing?

“It's not like it matters anyway. She seems happy with her girlfriend.” I don't even bother hiding the disappointment in my voice. Maybe I should just go back to meeting women online. At least then I can disappear without having to worry about ever seeing them again if things get awkward.

“They aren't dating.” His face contorts into a grimace, as if he ate something sour and the very taste disgusts him. “Catalina and Ashe just have a, um, history.”

Catalina? Her name sounds just as exotic as she looks. How can I compete with someone like that?

Still, did he say they weren't together? History implies that whatever they had was in the past. If I follow that logic, then her future is in open season and I was renewing my hunting license—okay, maybe I shouldn't use that as my pickup line. Or any pickup lines, for that matter. After our last encounter, words were definitely not my friend; I don't think I could trust myself to not make it awkward.

“Anyway,” he continues with a nonchalant shrug, “best not get mixed up with either of them. Nothing good'll come of it.”

I nod in response but I was no longer listening.

He said they aren't together, which means that if I can ever work up the courage to talk to her again then I might just stand a chance. I can be flirty, I can be charming. I've got moves. There was a horde of people grinding against each other on the dance floor, so it would be perfectly normal if I just so happened to be dancing right next to her.

Yeah, I can do this!

Right after I finish my beer. A little liquid encouragement never hurt, and fortune favors the bold. Or was it the inebriated? Something like that. This might be my buzz talking but I won't get this chance again and I know I'll regret it later if I don't at least try. Tonight was all about redemption; that includes second chances at a first impression, right?

I finish my drink just as a new song comes on and I chalk it up to fate. Perfect timing.

“Rose!” I shout over the music, tapping on the blonde's shoulder. “Let's go dance!”

She quirks a brow at me, as if wondering why I would suddenly be interested in dancing after adamantly affirming that I was much better off sitting at the bar all night, until her eyes scan the crowd and a smirk lights up her face.

“Finally found your motivation, eh, Dani girl?” She waggles her eyebrows suggestively as she nods in the direction of the dance floor.

I bite my lower lip as doubt starts to fog my mind. Or maybe that was the alcohol swimming around and clouding my judgement. What if I end up regretting this? What if Red—Ashe, her name is Ashe—and this Catalina chick are rekindling their romance and I step in and ruin everything? Maybe this is a bad idea.

As if reading my mind, Rose grabs my hand. “Oh no you don't,” she says, tugging me toward the mob and leaving her dark and not-so-funny suitor behind. If that was her shot at romance, I may have just ruined that, too. “I won't let you do this to yourself again, and you promised me a dance!”

God bless you, Rose.

The tempo picks up as she weaves through the throng of gyrating bodies and places us strategically next to the redhead and her sexily-clad coquette. My heart palpitates in sync with the music as I wrap my arms around Rose's neck. From where I'm standing I have the perfect view of Ashe in my peripheral. Unfortunately, I can also see Catalina pressing their bodies together, her hips rotating in perfect rhythm to the beat of the song, and whatever fleeting sense of bravery I was harboring quickly deflates.

She even dances like a temptress. How can I compete with those moves?

“Quit thinking,” Rose orders, ruffling her fingers through my hair. “Just let loose! Have some fun!”

Fun. Right. We're just dancing. No harm ever came from dancing.

I feel my body relax as I allow myself to give in to the strobe lights and the music, letting the cadence dictate my movements. It's not long before I find my rhythm and my lips curl into a smile. I almost forgot how much fun dancing was. Why did I ever stop?

The electronic upbeats fade away, transitioning into a Latin-inspired dance number, and Rose entwines her hands in mine. She pulls me close and then pushes away in a sequence of steps that I vaguely remember learning in grade school. A laugh bubbles from my chest as my hair whips around, following the sway of my body as the music takes hold and I lose myself in the bliss of it all.

A mischievous spark suddenly flashes in her eye and before I can say anything Rose mouths, 'Off you go!' and twirls me around. Her hands slip out of my grasp and, in a moment of panic, I reach out for the closest thing to steady myself on.

My palms brush against smooth leather.

When I lift my gaze, a familiar pair of golden-brown eyes with green and blue flecks are staring curiously back at me. My breath catches in my throat.

“Hi,” I manage to stutter, hoping beyond all hope that it was far too dark to see how red my face must be. God damn you, Rose!

Ashe blinks and for several heart-rending seconds I can feel my confidence quickly waning. What am I doing, what am I doing, what am I—

Her mouth curves into a sly grin and she places her hands on my hips. “Hi,” she says, her voice adopting a sultry tone that sends shivers up my spine. The slight smell of vanilla and whiskey on her breath is intoxicating as I place my arms hesitantly around her neck and we start to dance.

As I follow her lead and our bodies slowly find a rhythm, I can't help but wonder if this is really happening or if this is some alcohol-induced dream and my real self is passed out at the bar. But as she slides her fingers gently up my sides and along my arms, my skin prickling at her soft touch, I quickly decide that if this is a dream then I don't want to wake up ever again. Let me sleep forever.

Her fingers lace with mine, her eyes holding my gaze as she rhythmically pushes me away and then pulls me in close, our movements in time with the beat and our figures pressing together in perfect harmony. Her body radiates heat like a furnace and as the song comes to an end I don't want to leave her embrace. Is it possible for someone to feel this comforting and look that good?

“Tu danses bien.” Her husky tone cuts through my thoughts and I pull back. Our faces are a hair's breadth apart, her mouth tantalizingly close to mine, and I resist the urge to lick my lips.

Wait, she's speaking French again. Shit, she remembered!

“Um, I'm sorry . . .”

“Oh right, of course.” She laughs and my heart flutters. “I said you dance well.”

“Thanks.” My face is on fire and, nervously, I tuck an errant strand of hair behind my ear. “So do you.” Why do I sound so lame? “I-I'm Dani, by the way.”

She smiles and I feel like I'm staring into the sun. “Ashe.”

Another song blares over the club speakers and the crowd presses in around us. Someone bumps into me and almost instinctively Ashe tightens her grip around my waist, holding me steady, and my heart skips a few more beats. Her eyes still haven't left mine.

“Interesting.” Her words are low, spoken almost like a whisper, but before I can ask her what she means I feel cold fingers wrap around my arm, jarring my senses like an ice bath.

“Isn't this adorable.”

My blood freezes as I turn and lock eyes with the devil, herself.

One sculpted eyebrow is lifted and a smirk forms on her lips, but her eyes are what capture my attention. They were an unusual shade of red, almost as dark as blood. Her lips part ever so slightly and I catch a glimpse of jagged fangs peeking out from behind the red curtain. Was this woman into cosplay?

Her gaze flicks to Ashe, whose arm is still wrapped protectively around my waist, and her smirk widens. “I step away for only a moment and you find me an appetizer. How sweet.”

I feel the redhead's body tense next to me. “Easy, Cat,” she growls. “It was one dance.”

Catalina chuckles, her peculiar eyes once more turning to me. My head starts to spin and I suddenly feel very uncomfortable.

“I'm sorry,” I say quickly, unwrapping myself from the warmth of Ashe's body. I instantly miss the feel of her pressed into my side, but she doesn't pull me back. She doesn't stop me, either, and I briefly wonder which is worse. “It really was just—”

Long nails graze against my skin as Catalina cups my chin in her hand, cutting off my words. “You are cute,” she purrs, “but I don't like sharing my toys.” Her leer is unsettling, but with her hand holding my head in place I'm unable to tear my gaze away. “Kiss me, have a taste of what's to come. I promise you'll enjoy it.”

I feel sick.

“No.” I shake my head, finally able to wrench myself free from her iron grip. I swallow the lump in my throat and back away as I avert my eyes, trying to create as much distance between this seductress and myself as possible. “Look, I don't want any trouble.” I can't help but glance over at Ashe, who is once more regarding me with intrigue. “I don't know what I was thinking. This was . . . I'm sorry.”

“How curious,” Catalina murmurs, pursing her lips, but I don't stay to ask what she means.

I elbow my way off the dance floor and run toward the club's entrance, vaguely hearing Rose call out my name over the noise. But I don't stop. My head is pounding and I feel like I'm suffocating. I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here now.

I step out into the cool night air, vividly aware of my clothes clinging to the sweat that slicked my skin as I let the fresh air fill my lungs. As I start walking to keep my head from spinning, I find myself replaying the events that had just unfolded in my mind.

What was I thinking? Why did I think I could compete with someone like that? Catalina was sexy, seductive, scary and . . . strangely possessive.

The way Ashe spoke to her, though, like she was warning her to back down, and the way her body tensed up when Catalina approached us gave me the impression that she was less than thrilled with the exchange. And when she looked at me, the way she looked at me, it was so different. The way she held me and how I felt safe in her arms. The warmth of her body, the way my skin tingled at her touch. It was like coming up for air and being kissed by the sun after a lifetime spent sleeping in the dark.

Why does she do this to me?

My heel slips on the pavement and I tumble to my knees.

“Goddammit,” I hiss, pressing a palm against my forehead as I let out an embarrassed laugh. I hope no one saw that. How long have I been walking?

The shrill blast of a horn pierces the silence and I jerk my head up to see a pair of bright lights screeching toward me. My eyes widen as I realize that I fell in the street and I scream for my body to move, but it's like I'm frozen in place. My legs refuse to listen and all I can do is squeeze my eyes shut and pray that I don't feel any pain as every muscle in my body braces for impact.

The sound of metal crunching and bones breaking fills my ears. My body jumps as something warm wraps around me. Is this the end? Am I dead?

I don't feel the kind of pain I was anticipating and slowly I open my eyes.

Wavy red hair tickles my cheek as a strong arm envelops me. The other arm dangles limply at her side as the veins in her neck and face glow—glow?—a luminous blue just beneath her pale skin. Her body radiates with a fiery heat and, despite the grimace that twisted her mouth, her hazel eyes peer down at me with the utmost concern.

“Are you okay?”

Okay? Am I okay? I was nearly run over by a car! No, I am most definitely not okay! How are you okay?

Unable to form any actual words, I can only shake my head in response.

Ashe gives a curt nod. “Hold on.”

In a rush of adrenaline she lifts me with her good arm, hugging me close as she runs to safety. At least, I think we ran. The sudden gust of wind whips my hair back and it feels like we're dashing through a tunnel at ninety miles per hour. Or maybe we were flying.

I grip tightly to her body, my fingers interlacing with something thin and cold hanging around her neck as we reach the other side of the street before I can blink. She carries me into a dark alley and sets me against a brick wall.

“Do you have a death wish?” she hisses, her breath hot in my ear.

My legs wobble as she leans into me and I wait for my mind to stop reeling. My hands are still wrapped around Ashe but I don't release her. I was afraid that if I let her go, I would fall.

What the hell just happened?

As the mysterious blue glow fades away, the glint of debris stuck to her sleeve catches my attention and I suck in a breath.

“Y-your arm's broken.” I feel bile climb up the back of my throat and I struggle to swallow it back down. I really don't want to vomit on her right now.

Her eyes flick down to the useless appendage. “It'll heal.” She turns back to me, her brow furrowing as she searches my gaze, peering into me as if looking for something that she isn't quite sure is there. What is she hoping to find? “Who are you?”

“Dani!” I snap my attention to the street, where a familiar head of blonde hair is looking up and down. “Dani!”

“Go home, Dani,” Ashe whispers. “You're drunk.”

Before I can reply, I feel the pressure of her body let up, taking her warmth with her, and the cool air presses against me once more.

She's gone.

We danced, she saved my life, she glowed—although the jury is still out on that one—and now she's gone. If I'm dreaming, then this was definitely one of the weirdest dreams I've ever had. What did that bartender put in those shots?

I stand with my back against the wall for a moment longer, taking one shaky breath after another until I was confident that I could move without collapsing. It's only then that I realize something is clenched in my hand.

I glance down and slowly open my fist to find a silver ring resting in my palm, a long chain dangling between my fingers. This was around her neck. This is real, this really happened. I wasn't dreaming.

“There you are!” Rose appears at the entrance of the alley, jolting me from my thoughts. “Where'd you run off to? I was worried when you just stormed out.”

I flash her a small smile and pocket the ring. How long was I out here? “I'm fine, Rose. I just needed some air.”

The blonde raises a skeptical brow but I'm grateful when she doesn't press further. “What happened over there?” she asks instead, motioning to the car parked in the middle of the street. The hazard lights were flashing as a small crowd began to gather around, looking over a notable dent in the front bumper and muttering among themselves.

I shake my head, instantly regretting the sudden movement as the world starts to spin. What exactly did happen?

At a loss for words and very eager to get back to my apartment and just sleep off this eventful night, I simply shrug. “I wish I knew.”

I don't think she would believe me if I told her the truth. And as we made our way back to the parking lot, the incident replaying in my mind like a bad movie, I was still unsure if I believed it, myself.