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Lucky for me, I wasn’t the kind of mage interested in throwing fireballs.
This kind of magic was way more my speed.
Even with the heightened attention Max and I were getting for leaving the crowd and walking toward the door, my magic managed to take hold. I saw the bouncer’s eyes flash purple for an instant, as if a beam of light had shone past them.
When I got to him, he was staring at me, his mouth slightly agape.
“You know who I am,” I told him, glancing at the two couples standing at the front of the line. They looked about ready to kick off and complain, but the same purple hue igniting the bouncer’s eyes began to glow behind theirs. My spell was working better than I had intended it to.
The bouncer nodded. “I absolutely know who you are… how, uh, how are you?”
“Doing great, thanks! We don’t have to wait in line, though, do we?”
“Oh, uh, no. Not you. Come on in.”
The bouncer stepped aside, unhooked the velvet rope, and let Max and I through. The people in line didn’t complain—they just watched, enraptured; awed. I kept my eyes front and center as Max and I stepped through the club doors. He was about to tell me off for using magic in front of people, but the music was already too loud for me to hear him.
“What?!” I yelled at him.
He said something about crazy, and trouble. I smiled at him, threw my arm across his shoulders, and dragged him to the bar. The music in here was loud, the air thick with sweat, cologne, and perfume. Lights strobed and glided over the mess of writhing bodies dancing beneath them.
In here, I felt a little bit less like a sore thumb than I did out there. In here, I could melt away into the crowd, let it embrace me, and absorb me. By the time we got to the bar and ordered our first drinks, Max had already relaxed. I even caught him bobbing his head to the beat once or twice.
The barman mixed our drinks in front of us. It was bright, and colorful, and fruity, and each came in a fishbowl. Max stared at his while the barman finished it off by plopping an umbrella inside it. He had a look on his face of, what am I supposed to do with this?
Against his ear, I yelled, “Happy birthday. Drink up!”
The rest was a bit of a blur… at least until he finally showed up. Not only was Max well on the way to being legless after only one drink, but he had also reunited with the girl who had bumped into him outside. She had a hand on his lap, and he was talking her ear off about something or other.
I was lucky Max was busy with his spontaneous date… otherwise I wasn’t sure how I could’ve given him the proper attention.
Even in this crowded club, despite the darkness, and the haze in the air, I had noticed his entrance. I had felt it. He had come alone, like he always did, and he had searched for me from the moment he’d entered the club—like he always did. I was the sole reason he was here, and there was something incredibly exciting about that.
A final glance over at Max… he was lip-locked with that girl, and that meant my work here was done.
I stole away from the bar and carefully chose my path to meet him on the dance floor. He was taller than I was—easily six foot—and muscular without being obnoxious about it.
Approaching him made my heart race, and my chest tighten. His presence alone was enough to excite me and disarm me like nothing and no one else could, and that was what made him so dangerous.
Gingerly I walked up to him, locking eyes with him; eyes that flashed, and shone, and sparkled whenever the overhead lights hit them. I watched his throat work, saw his tongue dart past his lips to whet them. I knew what he wanted, and I wanted it too.
That slight movement of his tongue was all I needed, though; our cue to collide like stars falling into each other. He wrapped one hand around my waist ran the other through my hair. I slid my hands into his shirt to feel his skin underneath and pressed my lips against his, drinking deeply of his mouth and sucking in a breath of air at the same time, kissing him like my life depended on it.
He wrapped his fist around my hair and tugged on it.
I dragged my nails across his back hard enough to draw blood.
He moaned into my mouth.
I bit his lower lip.
It wasn’t long before we were dragging each other away from the dance floor, past the club’s darkest corners, and racing into the bathroom. I didn’t care which bathroom we went into or who was inside, and neither did he. We collapsed into one of the stalls, and while I worked at his belt buckle, he slid his hand up my skirt and between my legs.
“You came prepared this time,” he groaned into my mouth.
“Shut up,” I sighed, as his fingertips worried their way into my already soaked underwear.
In here, we didn’t have much time, but we didn’t need time; what we needed was to fuck like animals, because if we didn’t do it right here, right now, we were both about to die. That’s what it felt like, anyway. The urgency. That dangerous need.
