But that was something, right?
Yeah, and then where was she going to be.
Right back where she was.
Stopping in the center of all the groping, directly under the light fixture that shot laser beams into the writhing masses, she turned and turned and turned . . . until she was like the after-school-special transition into flashback that wound faster and faster until everything blurred up and funneled away . . .
To Something That Brought Meaning or Revelation to Present Events.
Of course that was not what was actually happening at the moment. In spite of the Instagram revolution of narcissism, which she fully supported, people’s lives, even if you were immortal, were not actually film productions with jump cuts, off-camera narration, and soundtracks. There were no scripts, no stage markers for where you were supposed to stand, no let’s-try-that-take-again-with-a-little-more-emotion.
Which fucking sucked.
She wanted a do-over. And some better lighting. And a leading fucking man, thank you very much.
As her frustration sharpened even further, she surveyed the landscape of lovers and knew two things were true: One, not all of these one-night stands were going to stay that way. Some of these couples were going to develop their connection, and forge relationships, and someday in the future, laugh between themselves, or maybe with friends, at how they’d found true love at a club.
Can you believe it? We were so fucked up on Molly when we met, but now here we’re picking out china patterns and a sofa. We’re just so lucky, Todd.
You’re right, Elaine, so lucky!
Yeah, fuck off, Todd and Elaine. Oh, and the other thing she knew for sure? She was no part of this and not because she wasn’t human. While all of these useless tools were coupling up, she was locked out of a happily ever after, sure as she’d been blocked from entering that stupid fucking ugly-ass, fucking piece of shit, motherfucking ranch.
By salt. Damn it.
Not that there was going to be anything in there she’d want. For fuck’s sake, the place was no doubt home to fifteen-year-old couches, carpets she wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole, and faded flocked wallpaper that had been bought at Sears back when Jimmy Carter had been the president and Taxi had been on prime time.
But sometimes you just wanted to get into a place you weren’t allowed to go.
You just wanted the things you weren’t given.
You just wanted to fuck shit up and walk away with the mushroom cloud behind you, feeling like you owned the world because you were able to destroy it.
Devina stopped turning.
Enough with this bullshit. Time to pick her fun for the rest of the night—because if she didn’t get a shot of enjoyment soon? She was going to lose her motherfucking mind.
Oh, and that vampire? With the salt?
It was going to be good to eat his heart. Because whether he knew it or not—whether he wanted to admit it to himself or not—he was totally in love with that female and her dumbass ponytail. And just as pathetic? She was in love with him. It was obvious in the way they’d communicated with each other, no words necessary to make meaning clear, their bodies turned to each other’s, their connection tangible.
Fine. Whatever. Those two lovebirds might be able to keep a demon out of that house.
But they weren’t going to stop her from kicking down their goddamn sandcastle.
As Sahvage heard the word that Mae spoke, the three-lettered door opener went into his ears and throughout his whole body. Yes.
Yet she stopped him as he moved in toward her lips. “I don’t know . . . how far this is going to go.”
“I do.” He brushed her cheek. “It’s going as far as you want it to. And no further.”
The tension left her body and she eased toward him. “I shouldn’t be doing this.”
“I’d ask you why, but I don’t have to.”
There were too many reasons, for both of them, not to complicate things even more. But clearly, neither of them was going to stop the inevitable . . . so those were the last syllables they spoke before their mouths met—and what a kiss it was. He’d thought he was prepared for the sensation of her softness and warmth, but just because you wanted something didn’t mean you could handle it.
Mae melted him.
And he only wanted more. Keeping his touch gentle, he moved his hand up to the side of her neck to draw her even closer—and when she came willingly, he groaned and tilted his head. Deeper, the kiss now. Even deeper still. Until his tongue entered her.
He wished they had a big bed, with plenty of privacy.
But he needed her so badly, he would have done this in the middle of a war zone.
The chair she was on creaked softly, and the next thing he knew, he was in between her knees, cradling her face, learning about what she liked as he took it slow, took it easy, everything drifting away for him—