“Yep,” she says. “And then move somewhere else.”
While we wait for the show to start I learn a little more about Xavier. He’s an investment banker—doing things that make zero sense to me even when he explains it in explicit detail. “Working on the stock floor is sheer pandemonium. I love it though. It’s a rush. The clock is ticking—numbers are flying. It’s like mental marathon every day.”
Even though Xavier is very attractive there’s something about him that rubs me the wrong way. Maybe it’s the ego or smug confidence. He’s exactly not my type, which after a month of living with five amazing men is a little refreshing. Honestly, just being out of the house feels good. There’s so much energy and tension between me and the guardians. I didn’t even realize how much I needed a break.
“Thanks for inviting me,” I say to Anita. “I’ve been a little cooped up.”
She gives me a sly grin. “Not sure I blame you. I’ve seen a couple of those housemates. Yowza.”
Xavier makes a face but the lights dim, keeping him from any comments. The chatter in the club comes to a halt and even the people by the bar quiet. A spotlight arcs over the ceiling and lands on the chair, which, to my surprise, is now occupied.
By a familiar face and body.
Clinton sits in the chair, his cello angled between his legs. His hair is loose, swaying by his jaw, and his muscular biceps strain against the fitted, black button-down.
The crowd applauds at the sight of him, seeming to know or recognize him. They only settle back down when he lifts his bow and begins playing a deep, haunting melody.
It’s certainly not the first time I’ve heard Clinton play. His music lured me from my room weeks ago. The vibrations creep over my skin and into my soul. I may be in a packed room filled with other people but instantly I’m transported. It’s like the club around me disappears and it’s just Clinton and me. Watching him now, I remember the way his mouth feels, the way his body lights mine on fire.
His gaze isn’t on anything in particular. His jaw is tense. His fingers are deft and precise. A heavy weight moves across the room, something I now recognize as magic. Ancient and powerful. I lean forward, feeling the energy rising in my body.
Xavier shifts next to m
e, his arm brushing against mine. Heat tingles across my skin—fiery and alive. A powerful need—a want—shocks through my system. It’s the music. The crowd.
It’s the Morrigan.
I glance over at Xavier, who’s staring at me with hungry eyes. The Queen wants to respond, but I push her back down, calling on the lessons of the last few weeks.
I focus back on the stage. I focus on Clinton, who has the crowd so enthralled they never notice when he lifts his eyes and stares out into them. Our eyes lock. I know they do. I feel it when the runes flare. In the twist of my stomach. He can’t see me in the dark—not with human eyes—but the guardians are not exactly human and I know for certain he’s aware of my presence.
I blink and bang my elbow on the table, knocking into my glass, sloshing the contents across the top.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, breaking the magic of the moment. Anita looks at me in annoyance. Xavier stares. I stand and mumble, “Excuse me.”
I push through the tables, stepping on toes, issuing apologies. The bartender points me to the small hall in the back and I find the doors leading to the bathroom and one that has a broken exit sign overhead. The door sticks but I slam my shoulder into it and the hinges give, tumbling me into the alley.
I take a gulp of air.
“You don’t control me,” I say to the Goddess inside. I understand it now. She wields her power with an iron grip and if I don’t find a way to release the energy she’ll come forth. How? That’s the scary part. I don’t know.
The back door opens and slams into the brick wall. The energy in the air spikes and I turn, thankful that Clinton’s performance is over.
“Thank God,” I say, spinning around but it isn’t Clinton, it’s Xavier.
He understandably misinterprets my statement and lunges for me. He doesn’t wait, pressing his lips to mine. The Goddess roars, eagerly consuming the energy of the man before me. I tug the hair at the back of his neck and bite his bottom lip. He pushes his hips into mine, pinning me against the wall.
This is how it should be done, the Morrigan whispers in my ear. The rune painted over my heart flares. Feed from him.
I could devour him. I lick his tongue and absorb the energy. He’s not like my guardians. He’s different. Raw.
Dark.
The Goddess inside me cries, wanting to tear him apart.
Xavier hikes my skirt up my hips, the brick of the building cool against my upper thighs. The rough texture scrapes and I grab for his belt.
Be done with your purity. Here. Now.