AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Fiona watched her friend dance with the quarterback hunk, wishing she could be so lucky. Though she imagined wearing her combat ready martial arts uniform probably turned any guy off, if he thought of getting fresh with her.
Then she snorted under her breath. Right. Guys dancing with dead cheerleaders instead was a real turn on.
Then a glimmer of light caught her eye from across the room. A sparkling lure in a crowded bowl of squirming, faux, half-rotted humans. Her gaze shifted from the shimmering ruby in the gold ring the wearer wore to see a guy dressed in a black tux, wearing a black shirt even. He was dressed to kill. She looked up at his face. He had soft, wavy, coffee-colored hair and dark eyes that studied her, not anyone else, but her. His mouth turned up instantly when he caught her eye. Omigod, he…he looked like the guy from her dreams. The guy from the mall incident. Literally. Arman? It couldn’t be.
Just as suddenly, her whole body grew sweaty as it would when she worked out in a vigorous ju-jitsu lesson.
Now, he was fab. No white paste smeared on his face to simulate the undead. No streaks of red blood to suggest the ghoulish look others wore tonight.
She’d never seen him at the school before. Not that that would be unusual. As big as the Portland High School was, she could attend it forever, and never meet all the students. Heck, she wouldn’t need to, once she had met one as intriguing as Tux was.
“Hey, want to dance?” A guy wearing a toga leaned against her, his words slightly slurred. His meaty hand clutched her shoulder, and his hot breath reeked of whiskey. She knew the smell well because she'd smelled it on her father often enough. The guy's grimy size-twelve sneakers nearly stepped on her size six and a half’s.
Had he mixed alcohol with the punch? Or had he brought the liquor to the party in a flask? Idiot. The image of a younger version of her father acting like that flitted across her brain. No way did she want to have anything to do with some teen getting an early start on the same path to destruction.
Before she could shove his hand from her shoulder, the ruby ring bearer wearing the black tux appeared beside her. She didn’t have time to wonder how he’d moved across the gigantic floor through all of the squirming, writhing bodies so quickly. Unless he'd already been on his way to see her. She hoped he would step in to rescue her before she had to create a scene and knock toga guy on his butt herself.
“The lady wishes to dance with me,” Tux eloquently said, his hand outstretched, palm upturned, as if he was an actor in some old-time movie.
She glanced down at her gi. How could she dance with anyone who looked so suave when she looked like she was ready to do martial arts combat? And in sneakers?
The drunken kid stumbled off. “Whatever,” he mumbled under his breath.
Tux still held his hand out to her, waiting for her to accept. His eyes focused on hers, willing her to go along with him.
Still, she hesitated. Guys never asked her to dance. What was wrong with this one? Didn’t he know she wasn’t popular? That she wasn’t an adorable cheerleader with all the cute moves…that her moves could be deadly?
He smiled a little. Immediately, he disarmed her.
“Sure, why not? You must be new to the school.” She took his hand and her whole body heated. She didn’t want to call him Arman and for him not to be the same guy she’d spilled her drink on at the mall in Dallas. How odd would that be that he would be in Portland, Oregon and at her school function now?
He didn’t say anything, though his eyes devoured her as if she was a tasty sweet treat that he couldn’t get enough of. His attention both bothered and intrigued her. She’d never met any guy who acted so interested in her, but the notion kept darting through her mind, why? Why had he targeted her, when there were lots of other girls who were cuter and much more outgoing? Never mind that they looked hideous with fake blood dribbling down their faces and throats. Without all that fake gore, they were attractive. And why did he look so much like the guy in her dreams?
“My name is Fiona Wilder.”
The smile returned to his lips, his eyes darkening to midnight.
“But the name can be misleading,” she rattled on like she always did when someone made her nervous.
Her skin grew clammy, and she was sure her deodorant would fail her when he still didn’t respond. She took a deep breath, tried to stifle the urge to keep talking about nothing at all, and waited for him to tell her his name, but still, he said nothing. Just moved her across the floor to the slower paced waltz as if he’d danced all his life. The feel of his heated hands on her body, seared her to the core. She hated what a neophyte she was when it came to being with a guy. But Bradley Stapleton had given her every reason for staying clear of the general male population last year. Which was one of the reasons Halloween didn’t appeal. And because of him, she was glad she wasn’t attending high school in Dallas any longer.
“Hmm, you sure dance well,” she murmured, almost forgetting she was swaying to the music in clunky tennis shoes.
Thankfully, her older brother had taught her how to dance, or else she would never have been able to move a step. With tall, dark, and handsome leading her across the floor, she felt as though she’d been dancing with him for eons.
When the music ended, he still held her hand while his other rested on her hip. She smiled, embarrassed, her cheeks growing hot. “The dance has ended.”
A couple of girls giggled at her as if she and Tux were the weirdest kids in school. Or maybe they were wishing they had a chance to dance with him instead.
The music began again, a faster paced number. Only he didn’t let go, but instead glanced at the band members, his look dark and foreboding. Suddenly, the band cut the music, and began playing another slow dance. Tux smiled, the expression softening his hard, angular features, and he moved with Fiona across the floor. She glanced back at the band and all the members were watching Tux as if he had made them change their minds about the dance routine and would clue them in concerning the next dance scheduled.
Which was ridiculous to consider, but she couldn’t help it.
She caught a glimpse of Emma watching her, her mouth agape, and her blue eyes as wide as the lake near her great aunt’s home. A new flush of heat rushed across Fiona’s skin. Yeah, Emma couldn’t believe that Fiona would be dancing with a hunk any more than she could.
“Your friend?” Tux asked, his voice deeply sensual.
What was there about the guy that melted her insides into molten lava? “Yeah, my best friend.”
