Page 2 of The Deer and the Dragon
He knew the evening had soured but still had the balls to go in for a kiss. I intercepted with a side hug before launching into the street to stop my car. I closed the door and took off into the night before my date had time to recover from his wounded ego. The driver asked precisely the right number of questions, which was zero. He left me alone to the buzzing phone that illuminated the back seat of the vehicle.
(Kirby) How was the banker?
(Nia) CFO, right? Big money
(Kirby) Not like tech guy. Mar, could you call him up again? We used to go to much nicer places when you were sleazing it with the tech guy.
(Marlow) I’d like to sleaze it up with a loose bag of cheese and my sweatpants
(Nia) You were supposed to get laid. How am I supposed to live vicariously through you if you’re pulling a celibacy act
(Kirby) No, that’s fair. She’s always been a slut for cheese. No one made you get married, Nia.
(Nia) And so what? I’m supposed to live with the consequences of my actions?
(Marlow) I’m just going to call it an early night
(Nia) And waste a great hair and makeup day? Damn, there must be some fantastic cheese back at your place
I clicked the button on the side of my phone, turning the screen into an obsidian mirror and leaned my head against the window, watching the black and auburn blur of homes, shadows, lawns, and fences as we crossed through a neighborhood. I used to look at houses and wonder about the lives of the people who lived inside. What did the family do to afford a home so close to downtown? What did a three-story house with fantastic landscaping cost in one of the world’s flashiest cities? It had been a long time since I’d cared.
I saw the driver frown as the GPS turned into the northern part of the metropolis. It wasn’t an unusual reaction. No one lived in the warehouse district. There was no reason for a girl of any repute to take a car to the warehouses in high heels and red lipstick. He pulled up along the sidewalk and eyed what had once been a bread factory. His expression deepened into worry at the smattering of lights and darkened entryway.
“Is this right, miss?”
“Home sweet home.” I smiled. I flashed him my screen to show the glowing rating I’d sent his way as I slid out of the car. His eyebrows remained knit, but he shrugged as I closed the door. He wasn’t paid enough to care.
A blanket-like quiet pressed in as the car pulled away—a sound challenging to achieve anywhere in the city. There was no traffic, no pedestrians, no indication that anyone but the phantoms of long-dead industry tycoons haunted these corridors. The April night clung to the last of spring’s chill, sending goose bumps up and down my bare legs. I fished a metallic rose-gold card from my purse and pressed it against the panel, satisfied when it buzzed.
I rounded the brick corridor for the atrium, where an ever-attentive receptionist waited to respectfully greet me. She was one of four and arguably my favorite. No matter how short my skirt, how high my heels, or how late the hour, she remained polite without speaking. I knew her boyfriend’s name, I gave her chocolates every holiday, and we never failed to gush about the new episodes ofFires andSwordsif I loitered in the hallway, but she had an innate gift for knowing when I was overwhelmed and needed silence. Perhaps intuition was a prerequisite for anyone who took a job in luxury apartments.
Though she’d never say it outright, her expressions conveyed the same long-standing concern that I’d stumbled through the door after too many dates to count. She’d helped me get into the building when I was a bit too drunk to see my phone and buzzed me up to my room whenever I’d lost too much brain function to recall how my card worked. It seemed like a safe bet that she was not the sort of person who got high at aquariums.
The small bank of polished elevators waited quietly, all in disuse given the lateness of the hour. One opened for me the moment I pressed the button.
I didn’t wait for the elevator doors to close before slipping out of my heels, dangling the sharpened ends from one hand. I caught the brief, disapproving narrowing of eyes through the rapidly closing doors and flashed my most dazzling smile. Part of me respected her bravery. It was bold to be judgmental of the residents when they knew precisely how much these apartments cost.
I pressed the glittery, metallic card onto the pad to gain access to my floor—second from the top. The penthouse hadn’t been available, and I’d been okay with it. Everyone who lived here had their reasons for wanting to stay off the world’s radar, and there wasn’t a better establishment in the city for those with deep enough pockets to erase themselves from the map. The building’s discretion had been worth the downgrade, and as someone who lived alone, I couldn’t have justified the extra space unless I was looking to install a private bowling alley.
The elevator door opened noiselessly onto my floor. There were thirteen units in the entire building—two per floor, save for the lucky bastard who’d snagged the thirteenth. I walked barefoot down the sparkling black marble to myroom and pressed my thumb into the pad, allowing it to scan my fingerprint until a subtle click told me the mechanisms had unlocked.
It was dark in my apartment and stayed that way. I’d had the features for automatic lights disabled the day I’d moved in.
I tossed my purse onto the floor, leaving it in a jumble with my shoes. I walked to the window and stared out over the twinkling lights of the city and the sliver of river I could spot from my unit. I was a sucker for a good view.
The hairs on the back of my neck prickled in the way they did when one knew they were being watched. The rush of gin, moss, and mist filled the room the moment before I heard it. I breathed it in like a prayer.
“Leave it open” came a male voice from the shadows.
I fought the deep, conflicting bloom that emanated from somewhere near my center. My toes curled, heart thundering at the purr of his voice. “Don’t do this to me,” I grumbled half-heartedly, but I was certain he heard the ghost of a smile in my voice.
“Didn’t go well?” he asked.
I continued facing the window but reached over my head for the zipper. Years had gone by, and I was still breathless every time he spoke. It was so easy to lose my resolve whenever those silken words tumbled over his lips. I managed to give the thin metal a tug but lost my grip on it as I said, “He was utterly forgettable.”
“They all will be,” he said, brushing my hair away from my neck. Goose bumps started at the nape of my neck and slithered down my spine. He held the top of my dress in one strong hand, using the other to gently tug the zipper. He stopped before releasing it more than a quarter of an inch. I waited for the next sensation, but nothing came. Tension swelled as I swallowed another deep breath of earth and perfume.
“What?” I breathed.
