Page 109 of Séance

The partiers are an equal mix of males and females. Most of the people are my age. They are dressed so casually that I immediately stick out as a misfit. Half the girls wear clothing so skimpy, their outfits couldn’t be considered anything more than strings. Despite the near nudity, they are ignored while almost everyone stares when they catch sight of me.

Having so many eyes on me makes my skin crawl, and I hug the velvet jewelry box to my chest in a death grip. The guys instantly surround me in a protective circle, but there is no way to slip through the crowd without brushing against others, the sensation like sandpaper against my skin.

Gunner scowls when he notices my predicament, then he tucks my hand into his belt loop and yells into my face so I can hear him over the crowd. “Don’t let go.”

I nod to show that I heard him, then tuck the box inside my pocket so I won’t lose it in the shuffle. What I didn’t expect was for him to plow into the crowd, uncaring if he smashes into anyone too stupid not to scramble out of his way in time. It’s so unexpected that I’m nearly jerked off my feet, and I have to jog to keep up with him.

The guys struggle to follow. They are jostled by the crowd and quickly get lost in the mob. Worry threads itself through me, and I glance over my shoulder to see Jameson jumping up here and there like a pogo stick, but after two sightings, he’s soon lost as well.

Feeling cut off and adrift, I huddle closer to Gunner, terrified I’ll be pulled away too. Sensing my unease, Gunner peers down at me with concern, then he switches into warrior mode. He tucks my free arm around his waist, pressing my hand firmly against his stomach until I’m plastered completely against his back. Hard muscles meet my fingertips, and as easily as that, I’m completely distracted.

The crowd fades as I do my best to memorize every inch of him, tracing his muscles like I’m a blind person and his skin is braille. With every step, his muscles flex, and I’m hypnotized by the movement.

He presses his hand tighter against mine, a slight rumble vibrating under my fingers, and my girlie bits take a special liking to his growl. I’m surprised when he opens what I thought was a closet, only to reveal steps that lead into a basement. As the door shuts behind us, the noise is nearly cut in half, and I release a relieved breath to find us alone for a few seconds. “Where are we going?”

Gunner whirls, grabbing my throat and pressing me against the wall so fast that I don’t even have time to gasp before his mouth is on mine in a soul stealing kiss I feel down to my bones. When I can no longer remember my name, he releases me.

I wilt against the wall, breathless as I stare up at him, not sure my legs can hold me up after the way he so completely destroyed my mind. His chest puffs out, and satisfaction fills his expression as he gazes down at me. “That’s better. If you ever become overwhelmed and need another distraction, you know where to find me.”

I blink up at him in surprise. Whatever magic he worked was very effective. The fear is gone.

When the door at the top of the stairs opens, Gunner grabs my hand and guides me down the steps. Confusion swirls through me as we head farther from the party, and I peer up at him in bewilderment. “Aren’t you going to miss your own party?”

“Not our party.” He doesn’t even break stride as we head through a large media room and a spacious family area. “We’ve held the same party for the last five years. It’s expected of us. That doesn’t mean we have to stay.”

“But…” I peer up at the ceiling, as if I can see all the people trampling through their house. “Aren’t you worried about people destroying your things?”

“They know better.” He snorts at the absurdity, his pace not slowing once. “A cleaning crew will arrive tomorrow, and the house will be as good as new.”

While I’m used to a certain status and wealth due to my father, today is the first time I’ve ever seen the guys use and dismiss it so casually, almost like they are so accustomed to it that it’s an afterthought.

They are not spoiled, not exactly, but none of them blinked twice at the cost of things. For their age, that’s unusual, right? Don’t parents usually have a say in the matter?

I’m suddenly suspicious that they are more than what they seem, and I’m not sure I like that idea. I like them as they are now, and I don’t want that to change.

Noticing my silence, Gunner glances back at me with a reassuring smile, then he pushes through a set of doors that lead into a large living room. The walls are a warm taupe color, an assortment of furniture is scattered throughout the room in a pattern too random not to be done by design, and an elaborate bar is set up along the opposite wall.

Three glass shelves full of bottles and whatnot line the large mirror behind the bar. The surface is so crystal clear that it looks like there is a whole other room beyond it. The reflection is so disturbingly real that I almost expect the people to move out of synch, and I shudder and look away.

Along the ceiling hangs a wooden beam that carries every sort of drinkware imaginable. The sleek black granite countertop shimmers from across the room, and seven leather bar stools are lined up in a row.

To the right, I spy another escape route—um, wait, that’s not right—another entry into the basement, the stairs visible as they twist upward in a spiral of dark wood and sleek metal. If I wasn’t so overwhelmed, I would investigate the gorgeous design.

As it is, I’m afraid if I step close to the exit, I might try to run.

I grimace when it looks like nearly thirty people are present. The music is muted, the conversation relaxed, the atmosphere almost lazy compared to the frantic mood upstairs.

It’s more private, almost intimate.

Ellis smiles at me from behind the bar, his button-down shirt open at the collar, his sleeves rolled up. He’s almost as comfortable behind the bar as he is behind the computer, and I smile back.

I’m not the least bit surprised there is a gaggle of women standing around him, begging for his attention. Feeling dissatisfied for some reason, I turn to see Hicks leaning against an unlit fireplace. He’s holding court with a dozen people, and I frown when I notice most of them are women as well.

What the hell?

With narrowed eyes, I slowly spin and survey the room, then I grimace when I notice the occupants are nearly all women. Only a few men are scattered throughout the space, and each of them has one or two girls hanging off of them as well.

My steps slow with unease, and I can’t dismiss the suspicion that something is wrong. I turn toward Gunner. “How do people score an invitation downstairs? Or is it open to anyone?”

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