Page 63 of Birthright

“Shut up.”

“Whatever you say, My lady.” He bowed and left me there. I could swear he was giggling as he left. I stomped out of the gym and stormed back to my chambers.

Abbey was still there but my father was gone. “What are you wearing tonight,” she asked as I came in.

“Tonight?”

“You promised to go out with us tonight. Keena, you’re not backing out again. You need to get out, have a little fun.” Her tiny hands were on her hips. I had promised to go after she and Manus had worn me down over the last few days. I had agreed, but really had no intention of going at the time. But she looked so cute standing there waiting for my answer. I needed to get out of the room. I was restless.

“I don’t remember a promise, little woman.” I wiped my blades clean and put them in their cabinet.

“You said you would and that’s your word. You always do what you say you will. That’s as good as a promise.”

“Fine. I’ll go. But! I’m not having any fun. You got that?” I snarled at her.

“Cool. Hogan will be here in a couple of hours to dress you.”

“I can⁠—”

She was gone before I could argue.

A few hours later, we all walked together to the back side of the village, chatting like old friends, Manus, Abbey, and I. It felt comfortable. I had not been on this side of town before. Quaint shops and housing took up the main streets and most of the east side of the village. The west side was more of a proper business district, and behind that was the party district. We passed several nightclubs. Different kinds of music flowed out into the cobblestone street. Jazz, hard rock, and soft, soothing oldies mixed and mingled with the night and the voices of other WildLanders walking the street.

No one stopped us to speak to me, as often happened when we were out during the day. I was just another partygoer out for the night. It was freeing and lent itself to a lighter attitude. It felt like I was walking along Bourbon Street in New Orleans.

The night was perfect. Not too cold, just enough breeze to announce that autumn was firmly in our midst. I was wearing black leather pants, low-heeled boots, and a sequined tank top. Hogan and I had fought for almost an hour about what to wear. He had started with a gold catsuit that matched my eyes and left little to the imagination.

Grumbling as he left, he thought I might as well have worn my sparring clothes. The sequins served to save his reputation from utter ruination. He also added some diamond earrings and twisted the front of my hair up into a fancy braid with diamond barrettes, letting the rest fall down my back.

We stopped in front of a rather plain-looking building with a line out front. Manus and Abbey went straight for the door. The door attendant motioned for a hostess, and a beautiful Gremlin led us inside. It wasn’t hard to follow her brilliant orange-and-yellow-scaled skin, which shimmered brightly in the darkened club.

A blaring techno beat had Abbey bouncing with the rhythm as she moved. Manus led me through the crowd, holding my hand. I had never been good at clubs in my human life, and right now I was even less sure of myself. My body was acting of its own accord. I was nervous. As I passed all the beings in the bar, I could feel some of their powers reaching, testing, a hint here and there. I slowed to pay attention to one or two with unusual vibrations just a heartbeat longer than others.

A large, green Gremlin turned to recognize me, toasting me with his drink over a big, toothy grin. The air was thick with the press of the crowd and the heat generated by the dancers on the floor. Manus pulled on my hand.

We made it to a long, tall table near the side of the dance floor. It was one of those that you had to crawl up into the chairs, but it gave you a good view of the dancers and the rest of the room. The crowd wasn’t as tight by the table, and there were several people already gathered that I knew. Michael, one of Abbey’s favorite Magicians, was a funny man, always cracking jokes, mostly at Abbey’s expense. I smiled at a few of the other Witches from the manor and some of the other kitchen staff.

As Manus moved from in front of me, he pulled out a chair at the big table. Jordan was sitting on the chair next to it.

I froze in my spot. Manus pushed me into the seat and headed to one of the Witches, dragging her directly to the dance floor. I started to say something to him as he left me sitting next to Jordan but my words were lost in the loud music.

The others left for the dance floor. All the others. They peeled off in pairs as if choreographed. I was left sitting next to Jordan at the big table. “I think we’ve been set up,” he leaned in to yell over the music. I managed to close my mouth. “Would you like a drink?” he asked. I nodded my head.

He came back with two bottles of beer, no glasses. “Beer okay? I should have asked.”

Beer was perfect. “Fine.” I took a really long drink, maybe half the bottle. He huffed out a small laugh.

I watched Manus and the others dance. Manus was a master on the floor, dancing with two of the Witches at once and managing to pay them equal attention. His catlike movements were smooth and alluring. He had both the women enthralled.

“Dance?” Jordan asked. He had to lean in close again to be heard. His breath tickled my ear. My desire shot into overdrive. I shook my head no, too fast, too hard. “You don’t dance? Not at all?”

“Always had two left feet.” I also had to yell to be heard. He shook his head because he couldn’t hear. I couldn’t bring myself to get any closer. I huffed and gave up and cast the spell for the privacy bubble around us. The noise from the bar faded away. He looked around at it and smiled.

“I have two left feet. I was never a good dancer.” My voice was almost normal again.

“You’ve changed since then. I saw you spar today.” The look he gave me was primal. “Now that you aren’t stuck in the human world, a world out of sorts for you, you move like a dream.” His face still held the edge of the professional security man, but his eyes danced with that dark yearning that men get when they think they have a sure thing.

Even with that arrogance in his eyes, I was at a loss for words. I blinked and tried to ignore the wetness growing between my legs. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be so close to his powerful shoulders or the manly smell that came off him like heavy cologne. It wasn’t cologne, it was just him—but it was working on my senses either way.