Page 31 of The Tracker's Secret
She didn’t fool me. She was aching to be alone with Damien. Why did dangerous men have this effect on women? I thought about my own dangerous man and wondered what he was up to. Red perked up as I thought of Jake. My wolf definitely had the hots for him. No surprise there.
As the mage opened the passenger door for Rosalina, I rushed to my Camaro and started it. The engine roared to life. I patted the dashboard. “Good, baby.”
It was still running in tiptop shape. Dad and I had done an excellent job fixing it up. Still, I should take it for a general checkup before long. Old cars needed extra TLC to keep them going.
Damien sped out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell. I stepped on the gas and caught up with him, determined not to let him lose me, if that was his intention. Thirty minutes later, however, we ended up at the address spelled out on the invitation, an affluent neighborhood in Ballwin.
The mansion was one of the most modern I’d ever seen. It was three stories tall, built of concrete and glass, appearing more like an office building than anyone’s home. The party was taking place on the second floor, judging by the purple strobe light that refracted through the glass walls. Dark, dancing silhouettes blinked to life with the light.
We parked in the massive circular driveway and walked up to the front steps. They ran along the side of the house, flanked by concrete planters with well-kept flowers and shrubs, and led to the second floor and a thick glass door that slid open as we stepped in front of it.
A mean-looking guy with a chest as wide as Damien’s refrigerator took our invitations and examined them closely. After pressing them against a UV reader, he scanned us up and down, giving me the feeling that he could see right through our clothes. I squirmed on the spot, biting my lower lip. His inquiring eyes combined with the loud music and strobing lights made my entire body feel like an overfilled water balloon, thin-skinned, and ready to burst.
Damien bore the man’s scrutiny with irritation, but he waited until the man gave us the go-ahead, then strolled forward, Rosalina’s arm tucked under his. I followed behind like the scaredy-cat that I was.
We went around a long wall hung with abstract art set in dark metal frames, then came out on the other side into a large room surrounded by glass walls on three sides. The area was set up more like a club, not a home. In the center of the room, a dance floor filled with people drew my eye. It was hard to miss, considering the large disco ball twirling above and the spotlights dancing in erratic patterns. The bass of dance music thudded in my chest.
Couples in all states of ecstasy anddisrobementdanced in suggestive ways, grinding their hips together and flat-out making out as if it was the end of the world and all the fun had to be had right then and there. Heat warmed up my cheeks as I stared at a sexy couple pawing each other in the most intimate places.
I jerked my gaze in the direction of the bar at the end of the room. The counter appeared to be made out of ice. It shone with blue light from within and had sculpted ends in the shape of swans. Bottle-filled shelves lined the back wall. I started drifting in that direction, wanting to touch it and, of course, get a drink, when Damien put a hand on my shoulder and whispered in my ear.
“I’ll talk to my friend, then I’ll introduce you to him. Make yourself comfortable for now.”
I nodded and glanced around nervously, wondering who this mysterious friend could be, but I had no clue since Damien was being cagey. Either way, the only thing that could take the edge off right now would be something strong to drink, and I intended to get it.
Rolling my shoulders as if I were going to battle, I walked toward the bar. As I went, I caught the attention of two men standing with their backs against the bar top, whiskeys in hand. I held their gazes for an instant, acting way braver than I felt. They were werewolves, I could tell from their musk and some other instinct that hadn’t been there before.
With my new scent disguised, they would assume I was a Stale, which was nearly as bad as them knowing I was a runt. I made sure to send all the stay-away-from-me vibes that I could, and found an open spot at the bar, far away from them.
I laid my hands on the clear counter, expecting it to be cold, but it wasn’t made of ice. It was glass. I had no idea how something like that could be constructed. It was impressive. I ran my hands over the smooth surface and the intricate edge, which looked like a flower chain. I’d never seen anything like it before.
I waved one of the bartenders over. There were three of them, all working furiously, blurring back and forth as they prepared drinks using their preternatural speed. One noticed me and sped over.
“What would you like?” she asked, flashing pointed fangs encrusted with tiny diamonds. Beautiful vamp bartenders were common. They were easy on the eye and worked fast.
“A whiskey sour, please.” I wanted something strong that would dull my sharpened senses quickly.
The drink appeared in front of me in the next five seconds, then the vamp was gone to serve another customer. Damn,she was efficient. The bad thing was that Skews could drink the stuff as fast as she could make it, especially werewolves who could metabolize alcohol almost as if it were water.
Oh, shit!
I stared at my drink with a frown. Were my tipsy days already over? I hadn’t even turned twenty-one yet. Great! I took a gulp of my drink. It burned on the way down and I winced, welcoming the warmth in my chest and stomach. I turned to face the crowd, hoping the drink would kick in soon.
A vamp dressed in a tube dress with strategically torn holes down its length staggered in the direction of the bar and settled herself next to me. She was swaying on her feet, clearly drunk or high. I raised my eyebrows as I examined the dopey expression on her face.
Whatever she was drinking, I needed some of that. A strange sour scent wafted from her. It rivaled my poop perfume. I wrinkled my nose.
The same bartender who had fetched my drink came to her. She frowned at the new customer, obviously displeased. I’d seen that look on bartenders before. This vamp had been tagged as a potential troublemaker and was probably close to losing her bar privileges.
“Anotherraybow,” she said. “Positive.”
Raybow? Rainbow, maybe? What the hell was that?
The bartender heaved a sigh. “This will be your last one,” she said, then moved away in a blur.
“Um, hi!” I said.
The vamp turned her head in my direction as if in slow motion. She blinked several times, trying to focus. “Do I know you?” she slurred.
