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“Because,” he says, the hovercar slowing as he speaks. “It’s my job to keep the crowd off you at this damn show.”
The door opens as he says it, and the noise of the crowd hits me instantly. Corvus slides through it and waits for me, and as I peer out, I see the other guards clearing a path into what’s clearly a venue. I let Corvus shelter me as we stride through the crowd, then as we press into the darkness of the club.
Neon lights flash overhead, some set into bubbling light fixtures that send ripples across the floor. There’s smoke, too, intricate glass pipes hanging off the lips of more than a few patrons. I recognize the smell of it from Keon’s clothes this morning; drugs, definitely. There are a few women scattered here, but they’re all hanging off the arm of some Aelyd male, and I’m the only human.
All eyes are on me.
I suddenly feel like a fucking idiot for dressing so flashy, when all I want to do is retreat into the darkness. When you work in subterfuge, you get used to going unnoticed—and this is about as high profile as I could get.
I don’t see Keon everywhere, especially as my guards box me in. They take me through a door, then into a private booth, a circular sofa lining the wall. At the center of the booth is a small table with a big pipe on it already packed with some kind of pink flower, along with a bottle of what I think is champagne—though it’s got a pearly opacity to it that I would expect more from sake. I have a great view of the stage from here, albeit from the side.
“Hey, sweet thing.”
My gaze snaps to the side to find Keon standing there, completely rock-star’d out. His hair hangs in long, blue strands around his shoulders, his pale golden skin painted with a streak of dark blue on either side. Smudged eyeliner rings his eyes, the cocky curl of his lips screaming celebrity.
“Hey,” I say. “Decided to swing by before the show?”
“Well, you are the guest of honor,” he says, giving me a winning smile. He sits down opposite me, leaning forward to smoke from the pipe with a tube that reminds me of a hookah stem. The pink flower in the bowl is already lit, and smells like ash and carnations. Keon blows out a thin stream of smoke, the neon lights overhead flashing strangely in the drifting cloud. “Looking forward to seeing a little more of Solis?”
“More to the show,” I say. “You must be talented to draw this kind of crowd.”
“Could be,” he shrugs. “Or maybe these people all just want a taste of Ganivet wealth and power. Hard to tell.”
“Why does it sound like you’re implying something?” I ask. “Would it be so bad to want a taste of that? Atlas has treated me like a queen so far.”
“Being a Family bride can come with certain dangers and restrictions,” he says. He offers the stem of the pipe. “Flora?”
“I’m okay, thanks,” I murmur. I don’t think it’s a good idea to get high right now; I don’t want to be off my game when I’m apparently surrounded by horny males. “I’d like to know what you mean, though.”
Keon grins. “Maybe after the show.”
He abruptly stands up and swaggers out the way he came in, leaving me to enjoy the isolation of the booth. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Corvus watching me from the entrance, and a host of other guards outside.
I guess he’s doing a good job as my bodyguard, but that doesn’t make it any less strange to sit here by myself.
The crowd is distant enough that it’s hard to see them, so I stand up to look over the edge of the booth. It’s kind of like a balcony, the mosh pit below me, where milling crowds of metal-cast aliens swarm. I prop my chin on my arms as I look over the five feet railing, a clear view of the stage below.
Corvus is at my elbow, then, holding me tight.
“Try not to fall over the edge,” he murmurs.
I glance over at him with a frown. “Why?”
“I’ve heard Keon’s performances can be entrancing,” he says. “But don’t worry—I’ll be here to catch you.”
He stays at my side, his hand around the crook of my elbow. I let my gaze linger on him, licking my lips. “I don’t need you…Shayd,” I whisper.
He smirks. “I beg to differ.”
The crowd’s volume increases, and the lights fade to black. All I can see is Corvus’s golden eyes in the darkness, flashing as he draws closer. For a minute, I think he’s going to kiss me.
Then the lights come back up, and I only have eyes for Keon.
He stands at the center of the stage, his head bowed, alone in a spotlight. He slowly draws his eyes up and rakes them across the crowd, finally settling on me. What looks like a chandelier of strings hangs above him, sparks rolling off the metal…like a harp lit on fire. Keon stands below it and extends his hands, and a chord rings out over the crowd.
It seems to touch me like fingers, in a way music has never affected me before. Like someone’s thumb is glancing across my lips, the chords settle over me, and I watch as the hair on the back of my arms stands on end.
The audience sighs, groans. A pounding beat picks up behind Keon, and I gasp when a flick of his fingers sends another chord strumming over us.
