Wicked
Page 55

My body flushed hot with a mixture of annoyance and scalding desire. Raising my arm, I gave him a one-finger salute.
He laughed.
Spinning around, I stalked across the dance floor, easily moving in and out of the gyrating bodies. I couldn't believe what Ren had done—what I had allowed him to do. I had no valid excuse for it. I couldn't even deal with it right now, and I couldn't afford to be so distracted. Shaking off the lingering arousal and confusion, I focused on my job.
A fae stood near the bottom of the spiral staircase, but the female didn't stop me as I started up the steps. I'd half expected her to jump out and demand some kind of code word, but they never expected an Order member to find their way in here, and humans were no threat to them.
But I was.
My heartbeat steadied as I hit the second floor, and I slowed my steps as I neared the group surrounding the ancient. All of them looked out of it, eyes glassed over like they'd smoked a ton of weed. They were clearly under a glamour, and maybe even fed on. I wanted to grab all of them and force them down the stairs, but yeah, that would end badly.
Inching closer to the group, I stopped and grabbed the railing, staring down onto the first level. I sought out Ren, finding him seated at the bar next to a male fae. They were actually talking. I snorted and turned back to the group. Leaning against the railing, I debated my next move.
Marlon sat in the center of the couch, his broad thighs spread wide and his black dress shirt half unbuttoned. The blond fae was on one side, staring at the human female whose cherry red fingernails were sliding mighty close to third base.
"We have a lock on another one," the blond fae was saying.
Marlon smiled at the woman, but the curve of his perfect lips lacked all warmth in a way that concerned me greatly for her well-being. "That's good. How many will that make, Roman?"
"Five, once it's carried out." Roman's pale eyes glittered. He said something else, but I couldn't hear it over the bass of the music. "But we know."
I inched closer, turning sideways as I tried to blend in among those crowding the lounge area. Were they talking about how many members they'd killed? Sounded like it. Trent had made four.
Marlon reached out, curving his hand around the nape of the woman's neck. He said something too low for me to hear as he held her gaze intently. The woman's hand slipped between his thighs. Jesus. I quickly averted my gaze.
"We don't have much more time," I heard Marlon say. "We cannot let him down. Not this time."
Him? My little ears perked way up.
"We know the location," Roman said, his upper lip curling. My chest squeezed. Could they be talking about knowing the location of the gate? "I told you that. The bastard broke, and we will not fail this time."
"And we aren't the only ones who know, either." Marlon's grip on the woman's neck tightened, causing a whimper to escape her lips.
Roman's response was lost in drunken laughter from a nearby couch, but a horrifying notion blossomed in the pit of my stomach. The bastard broke? Trent had been tortured. If what Ren and I suspected was true, that the fae were hunting those who might know the location of the gates, had Trent known and told the fae before they killed him? God, none of this was good, especially if they knew where the gate was.
A human waitress appeared at the top of the stairs, carrying a serving tray full of shot glasses; however, three of the drinks were a strange, vibrant purple color. Was that nightshade? My suspicions were confirmed when she delivered those three drinks, one to the ancient and the other two to the fae. As the waitress doled out the rest to the humans, she glanced up. Her gaze was a clear brown, not muddied or glazed over like the others. She wasn't glamoured, but as she straightened, the blond fae who sat to the left of Marlon snaked an arm around her waist, tugging her back.
Tottering off balance, she dropped her empty tray and landed in his lap. Startled fear flashed across her pretty face as the fae gripped her chin, wrenching her head toward his. She grabbed his arm, her knuckles turning white.
She knew what they were.
Grasping the waitress's face, he moved his mouth over hers. It looked like a kiss—it was a kiss, but a fae's kiss was poisonous. That was how they fed off of mortals, how they hooked them in.
The waitress's hands slipped away from the fae's arm to rest limply at her sides. I stepped forward but stopped myself before I did something stupid. Not intervening was one of the hardest things I ever had to do, and part of me withered, turned black and stale as I stared at her bare arm, saw the veins darken under her pale skin before fading to a faint blue as the waitress was finally let go. She stumbled to her feet, swaying as she reached for her tray. Those brown eyes weren't so clear anymore.
My hands curled into helpless fists, but movement caught my attention. The brunette fae was suddenly prowling around the couch, heading toward me. The look on his angular face was what I imagined a lion looked like when it spotted a gazelle. My heart thumped heavily, but I kept my expression guileless, which meant I probably looked half stupid as he stepped around me, leaning into my back like a total creep.
"Little one," a deep, cultured voice spoke directly in my ear. "You look a bit lost."
Wrapping a curl around my finger, I forced what I hoped was a naïve, harmless smile. "I was looking for the restroom. Do you know where it is?" I added a giggle for extra effect.
The dark haired fae was stunning, the contrast of the silver skin and hair appealing. He stepped closer, his hip brushing mine, and I forced myself not to move, to not even react when he wrapped his cool fingers around my wrist, pulling my hand away from my hair. "This is not the restroom."