Page 88 of Haunted Spurs

"Well..." I murmur, my voice trembling just a bit. "Maybe a tequila-fueled party isn't such a bad idea after all."

"The trick is all in calibrating the specific gravity of the liquors."

Susan's shrill voice carries over the chatter in the living room. Leaning over the makeshift bar, she slowly pours a thick drop of Irish cream into a shot glass filled with tequila and grenadine. Upon hitting the alcohol, the cream curdles, creating a murky, whitish swirl floating suspended in the glass. It actually looks like a creepy little skull trapped in the liquid. Or a brain.

"See? Haunted Shots for a haunted house," she finishes, winking at Cade, who watches her with a dopey grin.

I grab one and knock it back in one shot along with the other girls.

The liquid burns down my throat, leaving a trail of fire that radiates all the way to my stomach. I take a slow breath, forcing myself with everything I have not to feel self-conscious in this little dark dress that hugs my hips and exposes me way more than I'm used to. And, above all, I force myself not to cast a single, fleeting glance toward the opposite corner of the room, where I know for a fact a particularly attractive person has his eyes glued to me.

"Another round!" Carolina yells, slamming her palm on the table. Her cheeks are flushed with euphoria. "This is a blast!"

Indya slams her empty shot glass onto the wood and nods vigorously, her eyes shining, while Emma, beside her, lets a small, adorable grimace of disgust slip as she stares at the freshly poured shot.

I lean toward her, brushing my arm against hers. "You don't have to drink it if you don't want to," I whisper.

At the exact same time, Susan's shrill, triumphant voice partially drowns me out: "I told you guys they were amazing!"

But Emma heard me. Her big, wide eyes look up and meet mine. Her face breaks into a timid but surprisingly determined smile.

"I know," she murmurs, picking the shot glass up between her fingers. "But... I want to try new things."

I try to smile back, touched and almost endeared by that silent show of courage.

We do another round. Meanwhile, on the other side of the large living room, Levi has perched himself on the arm of a chair. He found an old acoustic guitar and is strumming a country tune.

The burn of the tequila spreads through my chest, intoxicating my senses, but I realize with icy clarity that all the alcohol in the world wouldn't be enough to make me forget Ron's voice.

His low, raspy voice, fractured by lust.

Now, be a good girl and strip for me, Selly.

The memories ambush me, vivid and ruthless.

You're a fucking wet dream, Selene Dusk.

His breath against my bare breast.

You're a vision.

His gaze full of devotion.

You are beautiful.

I grab another shot, hurriedly knocking it back. Nothing. The words keep echoing, sending a dangerous, desperate heat throbbing between my thighs.

I forcefully try to redirect my attention to the party, which is now reaching full-blown delirium. Carolina is the center of attention: she's dancing, laughing, and shamelessly grinding against the twins, who are matching her rhythm and holding her close. In a more secluded corner, Susan and Emerson seem so drunk they've forgotten they're incompatible; they're brushing against each other, heads close, flirting in a mix of whispers and giggles.

I step away from the noise, skirting around a couch to seek refuge near the imposing dark silhouette of the grand piano. I need air.

But the air is instantly stolen from my lungs.

A wall of solid heat materializes behind my back. I smell the scent of cedar and leather fill my lungs a split second before his lips almost brush the shell of my ear.

"What's your favorite color?"

I flinch violently, my heart skipping a beat and stumbling.