“Does a \*_personal_\* dance come with this drink?” Selk asks as I set his glass down and slide the lithe to the center of the table. “I could be persuaded to blow off some steam.”
When he speaks into my damaged ear, it makes his voice even lower, raspier with distorted sounds that make my pulse jump.
Even more so when I’m up close, staring at all the salt and pepper hair and pale skin. In the glow from the wall, shadows are curling below his jaw and clavicle, drawing me to his bright face and even brighter eyes. It’s there in the icy silver that I see something finally come to life. The confusion must show on my face because he only smiles wider. No surprise that he enjoys winding people up. Is it purely for middlings, or does he act like this to everyone? Unphased, as I grow more confident that I’m turning this night around, I give him my full attention. And I’m used to being put on the spot this way, with flirty comments or wandering hands. It’s the personal questions that I find most jarring.
This I can deal with. I brush off his leering, pointedly looking him up and down as if I find him subpar. The Lightflecks who like to play with us like toys are the ones I have to approach with a heavy hand. Settled, or not, it would seem.
“If you’re worried about what the others will think, don’t worry,” he drawls, small hairs framing his face, “they’ve seen worse.”
Emer huffs but doesn’t disagree.
“As unfortunate as it is that I have to spare you the thirty seconds of embarrassment,” I say, my tone completely cool, though my heart races. “I’m afraid I’m here to be your poison, not your pleasure. Hence, the lithe. Though I’m more than happy to call up sufficient help for your problem if you require it?” His eyes turn curious, if not a bit elated, as I dig into him. “And if you’re worried about my opinion of you, don’t worry, I hear desperation affects one in ten males these days, so it’s completely understandable.”
One of the silent men in front of me stifles a surprised sound, covering it with a sip of water from a glass I hadn’t heard disappear. I’m not usually so unaware. I turn away from the grinning Lightfleck and offer the correct drink to his counterpart. Glancing at the table to ensure everything is where I left it.
It all seems properly in order.
“So… if you gentlemales would like a drink, a _hands-free_ dance_—_” I give Selk a loaded stare_—_“or information on how to safely consume lithe, I’d be more than happy to oblige. Otherwise...”
Emer and Selk begin arguing over who will ask for the first hands-free dance.
“If that’ll be all, I’ll stay out of your hair. You won’t even notice me.”
“Somehow, with that mouth, I find that increasingly hard to imagine.” The cold voice sinks into my skin as the male leans forward out of the shadowed part of the couch. Revealing the source of my anxiety. “I’ll have a blackout, no ice—”
His eyes catch mine and hold, sending a frisson of unease through me. As if the strange sensation wasn’t enough, my head goes a bit fuzzy at his gaze, completely dark and glossy with no whites or pupils to be found. It’s quicksand…inky…viscous like oil, and touching me everywhere as I drown. Are Emer and Selk still speaking? If they have, my brain won’t let the words in. Nothing moves, the air in my chest expanding and contracting painfully.
\*_Blink. Breathe.\*_ It’s a mantra in my head, something I’ve never had to tell myself to do before. I’m begging to move even as the room grows quiet, a tense air surrounding this male and me. He barely cocks his head, his neatly cropped hair firmly in place, but the weight suffocates me, crushes me down to dust.
“How…?” he asks, his voice trailing off as ice skates down my spine. Why he’s the only voice I can hear, I’m not sure. It’s not really a question. No, it sounds more like an accusation, but of what, I’m not sure. As if I’ve committed some sort of crime and he’s trying to uncover what it is. “You’re…Thur?”
He’s still digging for something, finding something about me disagreeable. Does he sense that I don’t quite fit? Not just here but anywhere. I think he’s searching for the answers under my skin. That’s the sensation of tightness in my chest, I realize, and even as I shake my head \*_no\*_, the room is growing fuzzier. How long has it been since I’ve taken a breath? It feels like my blood is boiling, searing enough to drag a pitiful sound from me. I can’t—
“\*_Nox!\*”_ The male beside him hisses, shoving his shoulder hard enough to break our eye contact. I might recognize that voice, but it’s like sand slipping through my fingers. I can’t hold onto the knowledge. I’m on my knees before I can blink, gasping desperately for air as the empty tray clatters to the floor. Cold hands are on my shoulders, turning me. I can’t breathe. I can’t draw the air into my lungs, no matter how hard I gasp. Why is my face wet?
“Take a breath,” the blurry face insists, clearing some of my tunnel vision. Selk studies me with bland disinterest, maybe even a little irritation if the pinch between his brows says anything. I know nothing about him and even less about what’s happening right now, but body language is usually universal. He commands me to inhale again, his freezing hands burning through all else. Am I shaking? The moment is strange. It’s as if my body is ignoring my mind, responding to Selk’s words without consulting me first. There’s a link directly from him to me, and yes, it’s alarming, but not nearly as much as the tears. I \*_never\*_ cry. I can count the number of times I’ve cried alone in my shower with two hands. But the number of times I’ve cried in front of strangers? None. Absolutely zero.
Not since childhood.
I’m distantly aware of the arguing going on beside me. The sound of feet shuffling and glass breaking. Selk holds my attention, though, pulling me deeper into his blinding eyes. The darker silver ring around the molten silver core is beautiful, terrifyingly so, but some part of me thinks danger might be an aphrodisiac. Another, more rational, part of me thinks something is very wrong with this.
With me.
“Breathe until you stop gasping, but do not move. You’ll remain here, in this spot, until you hear the door shut behind us. Only then can you move. If you do that, you’ll be safe. Show me you understand.”
His modded voice isn’t as cold as his hands, but it’s so unique it slips between the thoughts in my mind like water. I think I could listen to such a purring voice tell me anything. Effortlessly, my brain bends, making my head nod.
“Good,” he says, giving me a quick check by tilting my head and peering closely at my eyes before letting me go. He hesitates as he studies my right eye. Does he notice the same inconsistencies I noticed with Emer? His lips dip then pinch as he looks over my shoulder. “Go home and forget we were ever here.”
I blink blindly and nod. I don’t do anything but sit, even as they walk around me. Even as they exit the room. Even as I desperately want to risk the broken hand and punch Nox in the face for whatever he did to me. Selk too.
It’s not until I hear the door click shut that my body unfreezes, jolting straight up with a yelp. They’re already gone, taking any traces of their existence with them. And in their place, centered on the table, is a neat stack of sakrin chips like some consolation prize. I’m pissed. And just under that, I’m more aroused than I know what to do with. Beyond the buzzing sensation roving over my clit, is embarrassment because I’m a lot of things–a whole mess of uncomfortable, confusing feelings for sure–but I’m not stupid.
What happened tonight was stupid.
For a second, each of their faces flash in my mind. I pair the image with the name as if it’s going to disappear any second. It doesn’t. I \*_know\*_ I’m not supposed to remember them and that it might cost me my life if they ever find out, but I replay the events one more time to set them like cement.
Then I snatch up the money and run.