Page 147 of Shadowblood Souls
He got a little wilder in the punk venue than I’ve seen him… ever. Or at least since we were little kids.
He’s always prided himself in being coolly incisive, staying in control and on top of every scenario we could encounter. He’d dive into any exercise requiring strategy with a fierce sort of focus, tugging us all along with his swift observations and decisions.
From what I’ve seen since we reunited, those habits have only amplified.
Except after that one attack from the guardians, when we were at the campus townhouse, that is. While we were driving away, it seemed like he’d gone into a sort of daze, lost in his head somewhere.
He practically destroyed the front passenger seat with his telekinesis before I shook him out of it.
He wasn’t in a daze in the bar, though. Tonight he’s appeared as alert and focused as ever.
But then, I haven’t had much of a chance to really get to know all the nuances of who he or the other guys have become in the past four years. They’ve kept me at a hostile distance until just recently… and I can feel how much painful history they’re still keeping bottled up inside.
We ease to a stop outside the building. The cursive letters on the sign up top declare itThe Royal Lounge.
Most of the front windows are covered by a purple velvet curtain, only a sliver of the interior visible near the door. There, amber light washes over pale, glossy wood and delicately pebbled leather.
The few patrons I can see are dressed similarly to the woman I spotted: subdued but elegant evening wear.
Andreas’s gaze has already slid over the five of us. “I don’t think we want to stick out in there like we did in the punk club. Jake and I are probably fine. Zee, I got you the one polo shirt in case we all needed to dress up a bit.”
Zian makes a face. “Let’s go get it then.”
We’ve been keeping our backpacks full of all our new clothes and other belongings in the trunk of the car. As long as we have them nearby at all times, we can hope that we won’t lose everything again.
As Zian digs through his pack, I open up mine. “I got a sweater that’ll look better than the hoodie.”
My dark jeans might go over better than the cargo pants in a swanky setting, but I’m not going to strip down that much. Angling my body so the side of my waist with the bandage is hidden from the guys, I peel my hoodie off and pull the soft black sweater on over my tank top.
When I turn around, Zian is tugging the collar of the navy polo shirt. His mouth is slanted at an awkward angle, but I have to suppress a swoon.
The color compliments his dark hair and peachy brown skin perfectly. And I’ve never seen him in anything other than athletic gear before.
Zee cleans up nice.
He glances toward me, and I jerk my gaze away before he can realize the flush creeping across my cheeks has anything to do with him. Instead, I find myself facing Dominic, who’s looking even more awkward in his parka.
He ducks his head, the short ponytail he’s pulled his smooth auburn hair into sliding across his shoulder. “No one needs to say it. I realize there’s no way I won’t stick out like a sore thumb.”
In a shirt or a coat thinner than the parka like the trench coat he used to wear, the lumps of his tentacles will be obvious on his upper back. He doesn’t have any workable options.
A pang resonates through my chest. This isn’t the first time we’ve left him behind.
All the childhood training sessions that required immense strength and endurance, Dominic and Griffin always faltered first. The echo of a flinch rises up from the memory of watchingthe guardians zap them with their electric prods if we slowed down too much to help them along.
Sometimes they didn’t mind us working together, but other times the goal was for all of us to be pushed to our limits… whether we liked it or not.
Jacob hesitates. It’s clear he doesn’t want to say anything that would make Dominic feel worse about his limitations.
I can’t help appreciating his obvious concern, as much as I want to be annoyed by everything about him.
“You can stake out the place from outside,” he says after a moment. “Pretend you’re waiting for someone to show up. Give us a warning if it looks like trouble’s brewing.”
We don’t have any reason to think we’ll face a sudden onslaught of danger from outside, but it’s a reasonable compromise.
Dominic offers Jacob a tight smile. “It’s a plan.”
Trying to look casual, we walk back to the lounge. Dominic props himself against the wall next to the neighboring building, and the rest of us venture inside.
