Nocturnal (19 page)

“You're going to be okay, right?” I check to make sure he's not freaking out. He is unruffled as always.

“Yes.” I had hoped for something more reassuring, but he isn't a very reassuring person. Noctalis.

I look for her, but Tex has already been swallowed up in the mayhem. 

“I am right behind you.” I hear his voice even though the music is loud enough I can feel it pulsing in my veins. I have the instinct to grab Peter's hand so I won't lose him, but I suppress it. He sticks out, and not just due to the fact that he isn't wearing a wife beater or a Hooter's t-shirt like every other guy. Like the air around him is different, or something foreign seeps from his pores. It's easier to see when he's standing in a room full of human guys.

“I should have told you what to wear. It's a theme party.” He stays silent as we walk into the melee. “I'm going to find Jamie.” I yell so he can hear me. Which is stupid, of course he can.

I thread my way through the party, finding Jamie watching a game of beer pong, as usual. He's done the cleaner version of white trash, with a white tank top and some sort-of ripped jeans. Along with some weird sunglasses and an empty beer can in a cozy that says Life's a Beach on it, he's the classiest trash I've ever seen. His eyes widen as he looks me up and down. There's a lot of skin to look at. I blush under all the glitter, wishing I felt less naked. 

“Hey,” he says after he's done examining me. It takes him a second to register Peter. 

“Jamie, this is Peter. Peter, Jamie.” I gesture to each in turn, crossing my fingers that this will go better than the Tex intro.

“Oh, hey.” Jamie holds out his hand for a shake. Panicking, I try to catch Jamie's eye to tell him that's a no go, but he's staring at Peter.

“It is nice to meet you.” Peter puts his hand into Jamie's. My mouth drops open. I struggle to close it as Jamie takes his hand back, frowning. I have to bite back a bunch of things I want to say to break the moment and distract Jamie. He does it for me.

“So how did you two meet?” He examines his hand as I die a little inside.

“I spilled a soda on him at Miller's a few weeks ago.” I'd come up with the story while Tex was doing my hair.

“Are you from around here?” He directs this question to Peter, looking him right in the eye. Bold.

“New York, originally,” he says without so much as a blink. Jamie stands tall like he's sizing Peter up.

“What brings you to this neck of the woods?” My hands keep twitching so I hide them behind my back. 

“My mother has always wanted to live in Maine.” He never told me that. I wonder if it's true.

“Hey, I'm going to get a drink, you want to come with me?” I say, trying anything to end the awkward conversation. I hope Peter will take the hint.

“I'll come with you,” Jamie says. Dear god, will this ever end? What the hell was I thinking? 

“Have you seen Tex?” he says as we wind our way back to the kitchen.

“No, she's probably dancing.” I look at the dance floor, but there is such a mishmash of people I can't pick her out. I hope she doesn't get wasted, because she's supposed to be the designated driver, and I'm terrified I'm going to crash her car.

“Do you want a drink?” I ask Peter, hoping he doesn't think I mean the blood variety. It's just a courtesy, since I need to make him look as natural as possible.

“No, thank you.” His eyes stay on mine in that unnerving way he has. I'm going to kill Tex for convincing me to wear this thing. I'd gotten more than a few looks and a whistle when I walked through the chaos of people. Not that it wasn't flattering, but I didn't like guys I had to see on Monday in geometry thinking about me that way.

I grab a beer from the sink full of ice. Looks like I'm going to need it. Peter stands next to me, looking at all the people. It didn't even occur to me that he might want to, um, feed. That a room full of sweaty teenagers might not be the best place for someone who feeds on blood. 

“Hey, J, can you come help me man?” One of Jamie's teammates, dressed in a NASCAR shirt and a Budweiser hat tipped sideways stumbles over. Probably needing help with a kegstand or something. Jamie glares at Peter, as if to issue some sort of man challenge. Peter seems immune. 

“I'll see you later.” He gives Peter one last glare before following his drunken buddy. I crack the top of my bottle and take a swig for spite as soon as he is gone. “Sorry about him, too,” I say to Peter. “This was a bad idea.”

“It is all right.”

“How is it you're always so calm? Nothing phases you.” The beer needs lime, but I can't find any. 

“I have been through many things. A party is nothing different.”

“I guess.” I drink again. The beer zips through me, warming my blood and making my face hot. Peter and I stand in awkward silence. He seems a million miles away.

“What are you doing back here?” Tex bounces over. Her skirt is all over the place, but compared to some of the other outfits, her's is mild.

“Just getting a drink,” I say, holding up my beer.

“Come on, you need to dance.” Ignoring Peter, she grabs my arm and pulls me along to the next room where most of the dancers are going nuts. The music pounds through, making me ache to dance. I'd missed my chance at the last party, thanks to Jamie. All I want is to move and lose myself in music and let my body do what it was made for. I miss it.

I know Peter's right behind me. I'm getting better at feeling the disturbance he causes in a room.

“You can leave if you want. I'm sorry I dragged you into this.” I whisper it, but I know he'll hear. His hand skins my shoulder accidentally. Except nothing Peter does is accidental. 

“I will stay with you,” he says in my ear. He's much closer than I thought. Goosebumps errupt on my skin.

“I'm going to be dancing.” I turn to face him. Tex is already going at it, twirling in her skirt, hands in the air. I hope no one takes pictures of this. I search for his eyes. It is even harder to find them in the dark, strobe-lighted room.

“May I dance with you?” His head does that side thing, and my lungs find it hard to function for a second. He wants to what?

“Sure.” What kind of dancing is he familiar with? The song changes to “Everytime We Touch,” covered by a band I don't know. “Do you know how do dance?” Bodies bump into us as everyone else goes wild, lost in the fast beat.

“Show me.” His head is still tipped to the side.

“You'll have to touch me.” He just blinks. I'm starting to think it's the noctalis equivalent of a shrug.

Complications

There isn't a delicate way to dance to this music. It's going to be close and tight and I don't think he's going to like it, but he's the one who suggested it. Before I can think about how reckless this is, I take his hands and put them on my hips, turning so my back is to him. I take one shaky breath before I find the beat of the music and move my hips.

He hesitates for a human second. Then his back is to my back and he's moving with me. Instead of being warm and sweaty, he's cool and solid. His scent is all around me. Sharp and minty, like biting into a Wintergreen Lifesaver. It clashes with the heat and sweat in the atmosphere.

He doesn't breathe in my ear, and I can't feel the pulse of his body. But he is here. I put my head back so it bumps against his chest and go faster. He follows. As if we are one person, twined together. I've never danced like this. I've danced with guys before, but this is on a whole other planet. My body heats and my skin burns with the music, with the moment, with this contact. I briefly wonder if my sparkles are rubbing of on his shirt. Doesn't matter. I can't tell if it's the beer or him that makes me feel like this. 

The song ends, but we keep moving. I shouldn't be surprised that noctali have great rhythm, so we keep going until a new song clicks on. We're lost to time and space; bodies mesh around me, lights flicker. It is stuffy and hot, but I suck it in, letting it flow through me like electricity.

A sound that isn't music makes me pause. I swear it's a hiss in my ear. The hands on my hips vanish. I spin around, hoping he's okay and knowing he isn't.

“What is it?” He's still behind me, but he's far away, listening to something I can't hear.

“I need to go.” He looks down at me, eyes unblinking in the smog, no visible sweat on his skin, but with my glitter everywhere. I like that something of me has rubbed off on him.

“Why?”

“I must go. I will see you later.” He slips through the crowd. I reach my hand out as if I can bring him back. I'm jostled around by the rest of the enthusiastic dancers, and I can't breathe. 

“I thought you told me there was nothing romantical going on,” Tex yells in my ear. She's got another drink in her hand as she batters her way though the dancers.

“There wasn't,” I yell back.

“Oh really? Then what was with all the brown chicken, brown cow?” Her eyes light up and she yanks me in for a hip bump. “Tell me about it later. Let's dance!” I have to laugh at her as she drags me to a free space. The music takes over me again, and I have to move. But I can't stop looking over my shoulder, hoping he'll be there and wondering what the hell happened.

I dance a little longer with Tex and go to get another drink, the buzz from the first one wearing off too fast.

“Your face is all red,” Tex says. My ears are ringing from being so close to the speakers for so long. My voice is also hoarse from having a yelled conversation with her while we were dancing.

“Is it?” I'm not sure if it's the dancing or the alcohol. Probably both. I take another sip.

***

Ivan took a trip to the south. He's always had an affinity for the desert. The vastness. The emptiness. I was relieved when he left, but knew he would be back. Someday. Before he went, he warned me. About the promises we made and what breaking them means. He would be too pleased if I broke them.

Which was why I didn't answer her messages. Somehow her desperation seeped through the blocky, emotionless letters. It was for the best. 

I lasted several days without answering her until she messaged me about a party. I only considered for a moment before I messaged her back. She gave me the address and my wings ripped through my shirt. I would find another before I met her.

The house wasn't hard to find. The music blared for miles, the smell of so many bodies packed into a small space so attractive and delicious, I wondered if I would be able to control myself.

She was dressed in a gold tube of material that barely covered her skin. Golden powder clung to her skin. Her green eyes reached out to me through the dark. 

Mine. 

The moonlight shattered over her skin and her blood pumped faster whens she saw me. The adrenaline seeped from her pores, scenting the air with her smell.

She smiled when she saw me and introduced me to her friends, who sense my otherness. She seemed confused, unaware of how unusual her reaction to me was.

The close bodies in the room and the smell of sweat drove me to distraction. I wanted all of them. If I could have, I would have ravaged the whole house. Left it littered with bottles and bodies, the stereo still pounding. Instead I watched the glitter on her shoulders as she moved. I'd never seen so much of her skin exposed before. So many sweet places. She turned her head and I glimpsed her neck.

I asked her if she wanted to dance. So I could touch her and smell her and want her. I got a thrill out of the wanting. 

I'd watched enough of the modern dancing to see how it was done, but I hesitated. I wanted to seize her, but I let her decide. 

I had never let a human decide.

She took my hands and turned her back to me. The music was fast, like a racing heart. I could hear hers racing over all the others in the room. I hadn't been in a room full of people in twenty years. I kept my focus on her as I slid my hands onto her hips. It was the first time I'd touched her like that.

She cranked her hips with the beat, and I fixed mine to her back, moving with her. I lowered my head so I could smell her hair. 

It was a million times better than running. And flying. It was running and flying and feeding all together. And there was only her and her hips and her breath and the glitter in her hair, on my hands, everywhere. She was everywhere. If I had saliva, my mouth would have watered. But if I killed her than this will never happen again. Her life would be gone. That was what I wanted, more than her blood.
This. 

I was so lost in her, I almost didn't hear it. A sound that didn't fit with the party. It was Ivan, running through the woods a mile away. He'd followed me. A trap. I can't let him have her.

I told her I had to leave. Took my hands from her burning skin. Stunned, she let me go. 

He was waiting for me outside. Asked me why I was here. I don't respond. He asked me if I care about her. I was silent, because I couldn't answer that. 

***

I go outside to get some air. My hips miss the feel of Peter's hands. I tell myself I'm being ridiculous. It's absolutely freezing and there are a bunch of dying cigarettes shoved in a flowerpot polluting the air, but I needed to get out of there. I walk down the porch, to the back of the house where some of the party noise is blocked and the cool air rushes through the trees that line the property.

“Ava?” I turn to find someone staring at me, illuminated by the floodlight from the porch. Dirty blonde hair, leather jacket, hiking boots. And one brown eye and one green one. Oh shit. It's him. Ivan.

My mind races to my purse, which is somewhere buried under the seat of Tex's car. My cell phone is unreachable, stuck in this insane holster-garter-thing that Tex let me borrow so I could keep it under my dress. Sooo, completely useless.

Trying to act casual, I move back toward the porch, my hand groping for the railing.

“How did you find me?” I mean, it can't have been that hard, but still. My foot in the stupid high heel bangs against the first step of the porch. It's wrap-around, so I'm still really far away from the door. Too far away, if I'm being honest. I thought I was done with this.