My dancing partner grabs my ass—seriously, what’s with all the ass-grabbing?—and grinds me into him. I can feel something that is definitely not his cell phone poking into my abdomen.
Ugh.
I push him away. But the sudden movement is disorienting. My eyes pop open, and the whirling lights make my stomach roll. I think about all the shots I’ve done. And the giant glass of water I just drank.
That’s when it happens. It doesn’t come on slowly. It’s sudden and ferocious.
I puke. All over my dancing partner’s shoes.
“What the fuck?” the dude cries.
“We’re both lucky she just did that,” a deeply familiar voice says from behind me.
I whirl around, which doesn’t do great things for my queasy stomach.
The tall, broad man with the blue-blue eyes and the jet-black hair I’d been trying not to think about stands there. My boss looks cool and collected and like a billion dollars. Unlike his costars, he’s never bothered with shades or a hat or any other disguise. He always shows up just as he is.
Sebastian reaches out and settles me into his arms, steadying my swaying. He pushes my hair back from my face with gentlefingers. “Because if she hadn’t just puked her guts out on you, I would’ve had to kick your ass,” he continues in a conversational tone to my former dance partner. “You wouldn’t like it. And I don’t feel like ending up in jail again.”
The guy’s disgusted face turns into one of wonderment, even with my dinner probably filling up his socks.So. Gross.“You’re Sebastian Blake! I love your movies. You’re the bestWandererscharacter.”
My hand flies up to my mouth as the room spins again.
“Easy, Em. We’re going home.” He ignores his fanboy and takes me by the arm, leading us toward the bar.
“But why are you here?”
A fragment of memory runs through my brain, like a puzzle piece I can’t quite get to fit. I called him from the bar. I was chastising him over the phone.
I focus on his face, but I can’t discern any anger or annoyance. His voice and touch are infinitely gentle.
My brows bunch. I need to remember something. “Sadie…” I whisper. “The buddy system is important. No woman left behind,” I mutter. Sebastian is the only thing keeping me upright. The world’s a blur, but he’s a solid presence.
“I talked to her. She knows you’re leaving. Duncan will stay and make sure she arrives home safely. Follow me. I’ve got you.”
“Wait,” I say stubbornly. I trust Duncan. He’s worked for Chase, Sebastian, Ryder, and Ronan for years. Still, this is my sister.
I turn and find her in the crowd. She’s watching us with a wide grin, and she gives two thumbs-up. The guy she was dancing with is standing next to her, looking disconcerted by the intimidating presence of a ninja-like Duncan wearing all black and glowering behind them.
I bet Duncan is superb at cockblocking.
Satisfied now, I lean against Sebastian as we make our way out of the crowded club and into the alley. A dark car waits, idling. A series of flashes blinds me, and I realize a photographer’s trying to get our photo. Sebastian blocks me from view and, in a smooth move that speaks of thousands of paparazzi-avoiding maneuvers, he slides us into the back seat. Then we’re flying down the road.
I look over at him, memorizing his face. I missed him this week. Missed him more than I could ever have imagined.
His presence is so all-consuming, it’s like staring at the sun.
Until you’re shut out and left in the dark.
I turned off the lights first, the fair part of my mind reminds me.
“It went dark this week,” I mumble. Trying, and failing, to explain.
His eyes turn troubled. “Oh, Em, you have no idea. It was so fucking dark,” he whispers, as if understanding, when I don’t even understand myself.
I stare into his eyes. They feel more like a blue flame than ice, burning through my skin and bones, reaching deep into my soul.
But I can’t hold focus. My eyelids are too heavy. They flutter closed, even as I try to keep them open.
