He has the standard too-perfect appearance of an Avidite.
Most of my sorority sisters haven’t consciously met one so probably wouldn’t know how to spot one, but surely her eyes give her away to him?
Jackson said that relationships between our two kinds are still rare and I’ve learned enough over the past few years to know this to be true, so what does this guy want with Sophia?
Probably nothing more than the bragging rights of being the guy who screwed a clueless Guardian virgin, which is bad enough if she doesn’t know what she’s getting into, but I can’t take the risk that it’s anything more sinister than that. I need to make sure that she’s okay so push my way over to the staircase.
I pull out my phone and send a message to Tristan; he can handle himself, but I’d rather not put him in the position where he has to face off with a supernatural.
Me: Found Sophia. She’s upstairs. Going to check she’s okay. Don’t panic, back soon.
I put my phone back in my tiny clutch and try to figure out how to get past the gorilla holding a clipboard who’s guarding the velvet rope that blocks off the spiral staircase to the general public.
Adrenaline continues coursing through me, thankfully burning through the last remnants of alcohol and affording me clarity I shouldn’t have.
Just then, I spot a group of attractive girls being led towards the staircase and surreptitiously tag myself to the back of the group. They’re too tipsy to notice my sudden appearance and the guard too distracted by the amount of flesh on display, so I’m ushered past the velvet rope with no problems.
I follow the group up the stairs, the clanging of heels on metal barely audible above the pounding music. The nightclub has a double-height ceiling, so the winding staircase coils around several times before we exit onto a long suspended walk-way overlooking the club below that leads to a large industrial metal door that blocks the view of the room behind.
When the door opens and I walk through, I enter a space that feels like a totally different club; more seductive, more erotic…more dangerous.
The industrial door closes behind me, cocooning me in this new environment. I stand just past the threshold and try to take it all in – the room is a deep red with small assents of purple and blue with heavy decadent drapes covering the walls and partitioning areas of the large room. The ceiling is pure glass, like an orangery, and frames the vast night sky and the turbulent looking clouds rolling above us.
A small but exclusive bar area is tucked innocuously in the far corner and between it and me, in the center of the room, is a sunken pool; too big to be a hot tub, but not large enough to swim very far in. The sides and floor of it must be painted or tiled in black, making the water appear inky…designed to obscure the activities of those inside. It might have been successful were it not for the naked, writhing couple making it obvious that they’re fucking and feeding in the ominous depths.
Great – another Donor party.
The last one I attended didn’t end so well.
I look around at the dancing bodies, sweaty and sultry, moving to a sexy rhythm; Avidites and humans joined at the lips, some by their naked hips and all totally oblivious to one another and the shows they are putting on.
One human girl is spread naked on a chair while an Avidite feeds from the femoral artery in her thigh; I didn’t think it was possible to feel overdressed in my current outfit, but I do.
I look around desperately for Sophia, this isn’t her scene, she wouldn’t be comfortable with this, but I don’t see her. Instead, a girl walks with weak knees past me and there is no mistaking her drug-dilated eyes. I can’t stand the thought that Sophia could be in here, drugged and about to take part in something that once sober, will knock her social confidence back years.
My fists clench into tight, white-knuckled balls, my body vibrating with adrenaline and power as I step forward and scream loud enough to be heard over the music.
“WHERE IS SOPHIA?”
All eyes look at me, assessing me; what I am is obvious…how much trouble I’m about to cause isn’t.
“Emilia,” I feel his presence a split second before I hear him.
He moves out from behind a drape to my right, which is how I didn’t spot him the moment I walked in.
Jackson.
It’s been years since I last saw him and although I pretend otherwise, he’s never far from my thoughts. Like gravity, my body yearns to move toward him. But this isn’t the time or place to indulge my obsession.
Jackson moves towards me and I’m pleased to see that he is fully dressed, his sharp shirt rolled up at the sleeves to reveal his taut forearms.
But that’s as much attention as I dare pay him; the years apart have done nothing to extinguish the wildfire that rips through me when I look into those indigo eyes. And when I see how those eyes are looking at me, it’s a wonder that I’m able to keep breathing.
But I’m here for Sophia, not for him, even though it causes almost physical pain not to reach out and touch him. It would be so easy to just stand there and let him continue to close the distance between us, but I can’t; I now have the answer to what it would feel like to see him again, and it’s too much…just like last time.
I back away from him.
“Where is Sophia?” I shout again. Just saying her name is enough to pull me back to my senses; her safety comes first. I can process my emotional fall-out from Jackson later.
He looks blankly at me. “Who’s Sophia?”
“She was brought in here just before me. She’s like me, so if you know what’s good for you, you’ll give her back – untouched.” My temper increases as my voice rises.
Jackson can’t disguise his irritation. “You run away from me and then you barge into my club and shout at me?”
His club?
Shit.
It makes sense when I think about his name and the name of the club; Smoak, Inferno…why didn’t I figure that out sooner? I’d learned that Jackson was the owner of quite a large and profitable company called FireStorm; he owns a variety of businesses and properties under this umbrella company and the names are always fire or smoke related – a play on his name.
“Well, as it’s your club, Mr. Smoak, I feel I should inform you that several of your patrons appear to be under the influence of drugs. Pretty sure there are laws governing the dealing and taking of drugs,” I say sarcastically – offense being the best defense. “And I know that there are serious repercussions regarding the administration of drugs by Avidites to unconsenting Guardians,” I threaten. “Don’t make me ask again, where is Sophia?”
Anger burns in his eyes, but he’s not as smooth as he thinks he is. I see the flicker of hurt he tries to hide and I have to ignore it. I feel bad for talking to him like shit, but I can’t succumb to my guilt just yet – I’ll have plenty of time to punish myself later, so I ignore the pain I’ve inflicted.
“Find her. NOW,” he shouts to the rest of the room, his hot gaze never leaving mine. His eyes bore into me, blazing with the force of his will trying to break down my defenses. The slightest hint of weakness on my part will see him pounce.
I stand my ground, my temper rolling off me in waves of heat, my eyes radiating and I feel the familiar warmth of my powers flooding my system. The objects nearest me begin to defy gravity. “Don’t play with me Jackson, I’m not in the mood.”