Fated (The Soul Seekers 1)

My eyes still shut when the waitress comes by and says, “That it?”

I lift my head, meeting a pair of eyes caked with eyeliner so thick I’m not sure if Jennika would cringe or cheer. Nodding when she repeats the question, too shaken to say anything more, all of my energy spent hoping the herbs will hold long enough to get me to Albuquerque. If not, who knows where I’ll end up?

“Better get moving then, don’t want to miss your bus now, do you?”

I narrow my gaze, searching her face once again. Noting a pair of overplucked brows that leave her looking more surprised than she’s probably capable of. “How do you know I’m catching the bus?” I ask, pretty sure I hadn’t mentioned it.

But she just smirks and plops the check down before me, voice trailing over her shoulder when she says, “If you’re smart, you’ll get out while you can. Don’t be a lifer like I am.”

I stare at her retreating back, calling, “I gave my phone to the bartender, do you know where he took it?”

She cocks her head toward the long corridor and disappears into the kitchen. So I toss some bills on the table, grab my bag, and head in the direction she sent me.

The place is big—much bigger than it appears at first sight. A huge, cavernous, underground space with numerous corridors that lead off in all different directions, reminding me of an old bunker from a movie set Jennika worked on back when I was a kid.

Since I have no idea where I’m going, I just follow the noise. Figuring at the very least it’ll lead me to someone who might be able to help, and finding myself even further surprised when I enter a really large, crowded room with a stage, and a band, with a whole swarm of teens dancing before them.

Teens.

People my age.

Who would’ve thought?

They’re even dressed like teens—though I can’t imagine where they shop. The only boutique I saw didn’t sell anything even remotely trendy and cute.

Maybe there’s more to this town than I thought? Though it’s not like I’ll stick around to find out.

I head toward the bar, hoping this bartender will be nicer than the last, and after screaming to be heard above the noise, I head in the direction she sent me, attracting all kinds of unwanted attention as I push my way across the dance floor.

Two dark-haired girls snicker and glare as I make my way past, muttering a word I can’t understand. But with only twenty minutes standing between me and my permanent emancipation from this gawd-awful place, I choose to ignore it—can’t afford a delay. Can’t afford the slightest mistake.

I rap hard on the door. Once. Twice. Desperate to get some traction, I raise my arm again, ready to bang even harder this time, when the door springs opens, and an older man catches my flailing wrist in his fist as he says, “Yes?” His eyes dance, his teeth flash, and on the surface at least, he appears to be the friendliest person I’ve met so far, but something about him makes me step back—makes me wrench my hand from his grip.

He stares, blinks, waits for me to speak up, and knowing I need to get this over with quick, I force the words from my lips. “I’m here for my phone.”

He gives me a quick once-over, and while it’s pleasant enough, I can’t help but notice the chills that run down my arms, prickling my skin in a way that’s disturbing. Then he swings the door wider, motions for me to step in. Calling to a guy staring at a wall of security screens documenting everything happening inside and out of this place, saying, “Son, the girl needs her phone.”

I glance around the office, taking in desks, phones, computers, printers, chairs—all the usual stuff, nothing ominous about it, and yet, something about it leaves me on edge.

The boy reaches toward the wall and yanks hard on the plug, his glossy black hair gleaming under the fluorescent light in a way I can’t miss. And when he turns, my phone and charger in hand, I can’t move. Can’t speak. Can’t do anything but stare hard at his eyes.

Cold. Cruel. Icy-blue eyes banded by brilliant flecks of gold that fail to reflect.

Eyes I’ve dreamed about.

“This yours?” His voice is light, flirtatious, overly confident—a voice that belongs to a guy used to charming girls speechless.

A voice that recently asked for a light just outside the liquor store.

My hands tremble, my heart hammers, as I reach toward him, reach for the phone, only to find he has other plans.

His fingers curl around mine, catching my hand in his—as his strange blue eyes deepen in a way that challenges me to resist.

Though his touch is cool and smooth and undeniably inviting, something about it makes me jerk back, causing my phone to crash to the ground, and it’s all I can do to tear my gaze away long enough to kneel down and retrieve it.

“I hope you’ll stick around long enough to check out the band.” His voice floats over my head. “They came all the way from Albuquerque. They’re only here for tonight. Be a shame to miss it.”

I swallow hard, settling my bag high on my shoulder, as I struggle to settle myself, needing to play it cool for now, then bolt when I can.