Page 9 of The Rowan
“A group is going to perform,” she replies, waving at the dance floor. “The lights flicker to signal the first performance, and everything stops so we can all watch.”
The lights dim around us until a single spotlight shows in the middle of the dance floor. The first bars of Camila Cabello’s “My Oh My”start, and five incubi appear in a shimmer on the dance floor. With the clap in the beginning chorus of the music, five blonde females appear in their arms, and the dance begins.
The incubi are inhumanly beautiful as they command their equally seductive partners around the dance floor. The song is a mix of playfulness and sensuality, perfect for the incubi’s natural showmanship. I’m mesmerized by their allure and grace as I watch their bodies move in sync to the tempo. While the crowd laughs at the dancers’ expressions, their bodies unconsciously sway to the beat, while incubus magic, a tangible essence, permeates the air, heating their blood.
A dark symphony of desire and laughter swirls through me, and my body throbs in response. Laughing, I spin and dance sensually with the others in the crowd, the tension from the last week dissipating as the performance works its magic. I throw my head back and find myself ensnared by a pair of smoky brown eyes, staring down at me from above. The heat and magic of the dance burns bright, inciting the same desire that fuels my abandonment.
Swaying slightly, I dance for him, holding his attention in my fists, refusing to let his eyes wander. Dark shadows flick lightly along my neck, as if his phantom lips trail down the side. A shadow hand winds itself in my hair, pulling my head back until my neck is exposed, vulnerable to his will. His dark eyes gleam with satisfaction as those phantom lips move down, placing kisses along the way.
I moan.Two can play that game.
Using my own metaphysical finger, I trail it lightly across his lips and down his neck to the first button on his shirt. Flicking it open, I caress the warm skin. Another button, another caress. His hand tightens on the railing. I smile at his response and blow him a kiss.
The crowd’s sudden clapping and cheering brings me out of my hazy state. Glancing at the dance floor, I realize the incubi have finished their performance and are looking to Astor for approval. He stares down at them, making them wait, before a sinful smile crosses his lips, and he tosses them a gold coin. The crowd roars in approval.
“Why did he pay them?” I ask Merindah. My voice husky from the sensual interlude.
“They won Astor’s favor with their performance,” she replies thoughtfully. “While he’s not the Lord Demon of Incubi, he’s part incubus and his status in the Imperium Cadre affords him a prestigious role in the incubi hierarchy. It’s been a long time since anyone won Astor’s favor. It was an excellent performance, though. Even I felt that one. The incubi must have used a spell to push out so much lust. It was an interesting blend of witch and incubus magic.”
Hmm…Astor is part incubus and part light witch, so I could see how the blend would appeal to him. My investigation into the cadre revealed he uses spell magic and sex magic equally, much to the delight of the female population. Charming and seductive, he’s a natural playboy who holds court in the VIP section every night, with women clamoring to cater to his every whim. Blowing out a breath, I glance up to find him gone. Thank goodness. The last thing I need right now is a distraction.
Rolling my shoulders, I glance over at Merindah and motion to the tables to let her know I’m going to check on them. She waves their bills to let me know they’re ready to check out. Thank goodness. I’m so ready to get out of here tonight.
6
ARDEN
Theron: We will hold your first magical training session at The Abbey at noon. Please inform me if this time doesn’t work for you.
Arden: That time works for me. Who’s conducting the training?
Theron: I asked the witches’ council for two of their best trainers.
Arden: …
I put my phone down and blow out an irritated breath. It’s not a surprise he’s chosen witches for my training. I knew keeping my power under wraps would likely result in a misconception, but until I was sure he would follow through on his agreement, I didn’t want to reveal myself. I think it’s time, though. As for the witches, I can use this advantage to learn more about my witch power and heritage without revealing myself until I’m ready.
Arriving at The Abbey at ten to noon, I’m patiently waiting by the elevators for him to come get me. The elevator dings and the doors open, but instead of Lord Theron, a beautiful, blond vampire steps out. Not just any vampire, either. The vampire before me, with piercing, ice-blue eyes, is the First Vampire, otherwise known as Daire. He’s been given the title First Vampire because he’s literally the first of his kind, born to Lucifer and a powerful witch and healer. He’s also a Prince of the Underworld and a member of the Imperium Cadre. Three down, two to go.
“Hello, witch. Theron sent me to fetch you to the training room,” he sneers, then sweeps his arm towards the elevator.
I’m not sure if he’s sneering at my being a witch or because Theron asked him to complete such a lowly task. Standing tall, I stride past him into the elevator.
Upon entering, he murmurs, “Training room.” The elevator doors close, and we’re moving. Propping himself against the far wall, he crosses his arms and stares at me, making me shiver. A vampire’s stare is potent, even when they’re not trying to compel you. Given he’s the first vampire ever created, his stare is mesmerizing and overwhelmingly sensual, like a predator who lures his victims with tantalizing promises of uninhibited desire.
Heat rises, making me flush, and my heart beats faster. My hand raises involuntarily to stroke his face, but I quickly turn it sideways as if my intent is an introduction. Of course, he promptly ignores it. Lowering my hand, I shrug. “It’s nice to meet you, Daire. After hearing about you for years, you’re not exactly what I expected,” I tease softly. I’m such a liar. Physically, he’s exactly the man I envisioned, and I’ve imagined him a lot since he starred in many of my daydreams growing up. Looking at the panel, I curse my inability to operate the damn elevator by myself.
He bares his teeth in mockery as he asks snidely, “What have you heard about me?”
Tilting my head, I think back to the many conversations I’ve had about him. “I’ve heard you’re an excellent leader to the vampires. You’re a fierce warrior and loyal to your cadre, even saving their lives a time or two. You’re arrogant, but not conceited. Although I’ve never met a vampire who isn’t conceited, so that might not be true.” Pausing, I bring up my favorite story. “When you were twenty, you saved your half-sister from being stolen by a demon lord and his gang.” And became the blond warrior starring in my teenage dreams, slaying bad guys and saving damsels in distress.
Rigid now, he stares at me in shock. A thin layer of blue fire scales the inside of the elevator as his anger rises to the surface. “How the hell do you know so much about me?”
The elevator doors slide open, but he uses his arm to bar me from leaving.
“Your father. He’s extremely proud,” I confide. “He’s been telling me stories about you for years.”
He raises a single eyebrow, snorts, then states derisively, “First of all, a lowly witch would never have the ear of my father. Second, my father is interested in feats of power, not acts of loyalty and courage.”
