Chapter 21: 20: MISUNDERSTOOD

Gracie was a drinker but calling her a graceful drinker was nowhere near the truth. She cracked open her second mini-bottle of Red Dot—a legal blend any resident could order at a bar, the first of which she’d drunk alone before Adam picked her up—and shared it with him once he’d left his bike in the garage port of the shuttle station. They met up with Gracie’s friends, a group of seven other senior females, and joined the crowds of other students headed to the same zero hour party. Gracie hung onto Adam during the shuttle ride and linked her arm with his, smiling with satisfaction at the others around them.

The second bottle was emptied between them by the time they left the shuttle and arrived at a checkpoint along the route, the agents they were meant to pass concealed within an unassuming residential house. As they paid passage to continue, one gold coin each, Gracie revealed that she’d hidden a third bottle of the drink in the small knapsack strapped to her back. She was ready for more and wanted Adam to join her. He obliged, much on his mind but still determined to have some kind of fun that night. They drank more of the sweet red liquor, feeling the effects as they followed the costumed students walking ahead.

A forming cast of clouds in the sky signaled approaching seasonal rain, a warning of the upcoming Harvest storms set to come. Phosphorescent ivy that had grown wrapped around a collection of inactive, deteriorating tube cars glowed extra bright in the gray light and illuminated Gracie as she spun around, interrupting her stroll with Adam to pull him close, her cheeks and eyes sparkling with some kind of glowing color as she looked up at him.

“You look really good,” she said softly. “I knew who you were supposed to be right away. The big man himself—General Olet.”

“That’s the one,” replied Adam, resting his hands in his pockets as he met her gaze. “Good eye.”

“Well, you colored your hair like his. White. You don’t even look old with it. Kind of…cute, actually. I can see what you’ll look like when you do have the job. And I think you’ll get there. I really do.”

Adam chuckled, surveying her shining face as her gray-green gaze kept his without faltering. She was dressed as an imp in a skin-tight red dress that hugged every curve of her slim figure, topped with horns on her head that matched the devil that she was. She was more attractive than Adam had expected and the drinks kept amplifying that effect so he wondered, for a moment, if she was as awful as he remembered. He chided himself for the idea.

There was a goal that night with someone specific. Seemed like maybe…maybe she'd say yes. Maybe. If the moment was right and they were really alone. If she had time to consider the changes he wanted to make with her and see that…it might be nice.

So…

Focus.

Dipshit.

He wouldn’t fuck Gracie. Not today.

“I look cute,” he repeated, smiling back faintly. “Good to know.”

She tilted her head, nodding. “Aye. General Olet, leader of the Union Galactic Alliance. Or…General Pendergast. Only boys like you would want to outrank everyone at a party. Everyone in the world.”

“Only girls like you find that exciting.”

“You’re the one I find exciting.”

“Sure.” He looked aside when Gracie leaned close to press her mouth lightly against his jaw. “Your dad hated it, though. Mockery of the office, he said. Some shit like that. Shouldn’t have bothered sending him a clip of us.”

“Whatever, he’s against anything you do because he hates you,” she said with a laugh. “Can’t stand the sight of you. Or hearing your name. It’s probably why I sent the clip in the first place, to wind him up. It can be funny. " She traced a finger down the length of his tie. "I bet it’s because he knows what I know, that you’re going places and you’re doing it for Concord. Against Peace. Against…what your family’s always done.”

“Ha.” Adam snickered as he thought of Commissioner Finnegan’s face turning bright red with anger, something that happened often whenever Adam turned up with Gracie. “Yeah. True.”

“Yep. You’re a bad boy. Now come on. I’m ready to party.”

By the time they were trekking underneath Kidish Pass through the mining tunnels marked for their passage Adam’s vow to keep distance from Gracie, along with her footing, faltered thanks to the Dot. He caught her when she tripped on an uneven stone and steadied her back to her feet, his hand around her waist. Gray-green eyes gleamed at him as she shifted closer to lace her fingers through his. He didn’t let go—not for a while—and she grinned for the remainder of the walk, turning to eye the girls walking with them. Gracie’s friends giggled back at her with knowing nods.

“Ooh,” said the brown-haired one called Fatima, her voice echoing a bit within the dim rocky caverns as she tossed her long curls. “Look at Pender tonight. Mr. Senator, all touchy-feely. What happened to the Concord Wolf? Where did this come from?”

Gracie snuggled closer to Adam. “He’s always touchy-feely with me,” she said. “Isn’t that right, Senator?”

Warmth flushed Adam from the Red Dot. The blushing attention from the females felt pretty good. “Not Senator,” he corrected. “Tonight it’s General. And I can be…touchy-feely. When I want.”

The girls tittered with laughter. Gracie squeezed his hand tighter, stroking his thumb with her own. He forced himself to remain above it all, keeping his attention on the tunnel ahead of them.

Masked lookouts dressed in black ushered the stream of students through the remainder of the route, until they’d exited the mouth of the underground path into Westmont. A light speckle of rain dotted Adam’s face as he surveyed the town stretched before them, peering at colored lights flashing from the glass-domed Isten Dar temple ahead. Despite the bright display, kilometers of darkness surrounded the temple with forming mist swirling throughout. Shadows swallowed the rows of abandoned buildings and homes stretched throughout the town’s layout and trespassing signs made it was clear that they weren’t supposed to be there, After that night, once the aftermath of their party was discovered, it was likely no one would be allowed in the ghost town again.

A lookout from the party organizers transported groups via mining shuttles to the square, leaving them close to the towering rotunda temple structure. The temple was the finest attraction in Westmont’s prime and a remnant of its former majesty remained, reinvigorated that night by festive light displays. The multicolored affair pulsated along in pattern to the beat of pumping music and within the main square Westmont appeared to have sprung back to life.

Manual stairs led from the street level up to the entrance of the temple. Adam climbed them holding Gracie’s hand and released her to slide open one of the twin crimson entry doors, waiting as she passed. She met his eye as she passed him to enter through the doorway until a cluster of juniors charged past her, shoving her out of the way as they laughed. One sprayed her in the face with sticky slime before running off, fleeing with the others.

Adam reached for a woven napkin from the inside of his jacket and offered it to her, half-expecting her to explode in her customary sudden rage. Instead she chuckled, swiping the red slime from her face, and tasted it before accepting the napkin.

“It’s syrup,” she said, dabbing her face. “Berry flavor. Sticky, too. Fucking brats.”

“I thought only seniors were invited,” said Adam, glancing at the boys now spraying others in their path. “Don’t want to be here with a bunch of kids.”

“Can’t really control what happens at an illegal party, Pendergast. I’m sure if this was happening when we were in Juniors we’d find a way to be here too.”

“Maybe.”

“I’m right.”

Gracie handed him the near-empty third bottle of Red Dot and Adam took a swig, handing it back. She emptied and a loud crash followed as she flung the glass against the steps, sending shards flying at their feet across the stairs.

“What was that for?” he said.

“What’s anything for?” She quieted him with a kiss.

Heady from the drinks and caught by surprise, he responded. His lips parted to taste the syrup from her face—flavored like raspberry—and his hands grazed the sides of her waist as she drew him close. She guided his jaw into alignment and several long seconds passed of Gracie’s tongue molding with his own before a chorus of whistles from nearby broke him out of the spell.

“Hey!” called Dalia, who stood beside Fatima within Gracie’s crowd meters away. “Hello! There goes the wolf, always on the prowl. Don’t think we don’t see you.”

“Right,” chimed in an unfamiliar, accented male voice. “Pendergast gets all the girls, I swear.” A group of males Adam didn’t recognize from any school stood near Gracie’s friends and the one speaking stood between them, eying Adam from the steps below. “He’ll be in the rags more than his brother. Start drafting your apology speeches now, Senator.”

“What?” Adam turned his attention to the foreign group, another cluster dressed in black, and scanned the faces watching him. “What did you say?” he called back. He frowned when the male who’d spoken laughed at him. “Don’t know who you are, ace. Don’t care either. But I guarantee you don’t know a damn thing about me. Best to back off while the night’s young.”

“Oh, Adam.” Gracie pushed his face back to face hers. “Don’t worry about him. He’s an ass.” A cunning look sparked in her eye. “I’m the one you should be worried about.”

Adam peered down at her and she dotted another kiss on his cheek. “Don’t disagree,” he said.

She pulled him into the venue, where a mob of twisting, moving bodies swarmed them on the open dance floor. They melted into the crowd, surrounded by the indecipherable din of raucous chatter and music combined. The booming voice of a singer, one of the openers, chanted in time with a steady, hammering electro beat. Adam barely had time to take in the interior of the rotunda and scan the two balconies on the floors bordering the the dance floor before Gracie pulled him into the crowd.

The lingering effects of Red Dot continued to loosen his resolve. He moved in tandem with Gracie’s smooth rhythm, his steps automatic as he absently watched wild coils of golden hair bounce around her, a coquettish grin stretched across her face. She appeared and disappeared underneath strobing lights and at times she’d leave him to slip away, advising him quickly over COM that she was powdering her nose. Whenever she left she was replaced by another female, one of the other seven who’d hovered close for a chance to take Gracie’s place. Most often it was Fatima, or Dalia, or both at the same time who filled the vacancy—and sometimes it was a face he didn’t recognize at all from the crowd.

When Gracie returned the third time she found Fatima’s hips swaying snugly against Adam as they danced close and she shoved Fatima away, jabbing her finger at the crowd until Fatima took the hint to disappear. She was on Adam again within seconds and wrapped her arms around his neck, grinding against him with more purpose than Fatima, hinting that she was ready for more of what they’d already done. What she wanted him to do to her again. Buzzed from that Red Dot, Adam pulled her close in response, falling into the motion she desired as their faces drifted near. His eyes closed when Gracie’s lips pressed against his again.

An interlude in the music prompted her to seize him, this time to direct him to one of the makeshift bars beside what used to be an usher’s podium. They slipped their way through the boisterous cluster and stopped by a dealer, requesting another bottle to share. Black Dot that time, as they’d go with Adam’s pick now. Something less sweet and with more bite, what his father drank and what Elias drank as well. Before Adam could reach into his pocket for gold Gracie shoved her money forward first.

“Not a fan of chivalry?” he said.

“I love chivalry,” she replied, twisting the bottle open and taking a swig. “Now you owe me.” She tilted her head, coy, and tapped his chin. “You’ll pay me back for my generosity later.”

Adam chuckled. “We’ll see.”

“Yeah. We’ll see.” She shrugged before gesturing at Adam to follow. “Come on. I’m meeting Spence upstairs in the bishop’s office. Third floor. That’s where he’s setting up.”

“I heard something about that. The main space used by those dealers. It’ll be packed.”

“Yeah. That’s where you’ll find all the Dark Dots. Spencer owes me some candy, powder—said he’ll treat me this time if I do him a favor. He'll get me some of that Purple too, since the suspension made me miss out on the first promos. Bigger than a sample too. He’s good for something, that mess.”

“You shouldn’t take—” started Adam with a grimace.

“Oh, shut up.” Gracie scoffed. “There you go, moralizing. Everything’s a crusade with you. You’re as annoying as you are gorgeous. Hate hearing you go on and on sometimes.”

“Yeah. Well. Same here." Adam returned her scoff. "You’re a fucking crusade yourself, Grace. And I’ll tell you this while we’re on the topic—Spence and I aren’t on the best terms at the moment. Don’t really want to see the fucker. Not a good idea.”

“How’s that different from any other day?” Gracie shook her head. “You can’t stand him. He can’t stand you. The way things have always been.”

“He’s a piece of shit.”

“Yeah he is. So are you.”

“Not all the time. And when I’m a piece of shit, it’s for a reason.”

“Ha. Whatever.”

Adam glanced at the hour on his COM—2242—as Gracie yanked him into motion once again. He obliged, not because he wanted to follow Gracie around, but because he’d made his own plans to meet his mates at that same setup overlooking the main stage.

They climbed up a now-inactive spiraling staircase to the third floor balcony, slipping through the bustling crowd until they’d reached the second-largest room of the temple, the office of Westmont’s head bishop. There, within an office washed in red from ceiling to floor and still littered with fine wooden furniture, the pair encountered a mass of students filtering back and forth amid dealers dressed in black.

Gracie stopped at the doorway and scanned the crowd, shaking her head after a few moments. “He’s not here yet. You’d be able to spot him right away in that getup he’s wearing.”

“Blood Fang’s coming up,” said Adam, viewing the crowd as well and acknowledging a few classmates who greeted him on his arrival. “Spencer will have more business than he can handle once their set starts. I’m waiting on my own mates here too.”

“Your mates.” Gracie turned to him. “You mean those boys and…?”

“My mates, Grace. I introduced them to you. Hasn’t changed.”

“Oh.” She sniffed. “Whatever. Fine. I don’t care.”

Adam checked the hour on his COM again and frowned. From the first time he’d checked the time on the first floor to now but nothing had changed. 2242. Same hour and minute.

“Hey—” he said, glancing at Gracie with a frown. “Time’s frozen. And, in fact…” He tried to engage the network and found no response or change to the display. “COM’s not working at all right now.”

Gracie surveyed her own device, her red-lacquered fingernails tapping on her COM’s sensor points. “Mine too,” she said, unlocking it from her wrist and examining the underside. “Can’t project. Can’t engage. It’s, like…unresponsive.”

“What’s the hour on yours?”

“2242.”

“Yeah. That’s what mine was before we got here. I checked the hour on our way up and it hasn’t changed. Who knows how long it’s been 2242.”

“Weird.” She placed the COM band back on her wrist. “Well, it is Harvest. There’s more ether in the air, it’s already misty out, plus there’s an old protective shield up around Westmont to keep out any bloodsuckers. With Ascension so close…there’s probably going to be a lot more issues with COM tonight.”

“Maybe.”

“We’ll see how bad it gets when those twin moons go up. Don’t worry about it now.” Gracie took hold of his arm again to lead him, this time directing Adam through the mess of students toward the rear of the office. “We’ve got some time. Let’s go to the bishop’s inner sanctum. It’s small—and private. We can be…alone.”

“Alone for what?” he asked

“To talk.”

“Just to talk?”

“No, shithead. Oh my God. Are you serious—?”

“I’m all right with talking,” commented Adam distantly. “That’s fine. Talking’s good. Gets thoughts out of your head. Loosens you up.”

“Shut up, idiot. I fucking mean it!”

Her red form entered another red room full of disheveled, Old World-style wooden furniture. Adam shifted aside when they passed through, watching as Gracie surveyed the perimeter. There were intruders inside the space—a group of young juniors circled around the bishop’s desk sharing a sedasig—and she marched up to them to bark them into order.

“Get out of here, fucking brats!” She shoved her way through the circle and banged her fist against the desk, startling them as they stared. “Now! If I have to repeat myself—I’ll shove that sig down your throat then shove your head into the fucking toilet until you choke it up so I can do it again. I’ll go around the room to each one of you and repeat it with the same fucking sig. That’s just the fucking start!” She banged the desk again. “Try me, shitheads! I’m fucking bored!”

The juniors eyed each other, unsure if they should listen. Gracie, stoked by their hesitation, stomped over to a nearby cabinet and heaved it to the ground with sudden, brute force. The loud and sudden clatter, even empty, spooked the juniors and they scattered, shouting at each other to keep away.

“She’s fucking nuts!” shouted one of the smallest, scampering out the door. “Watch out—she’s coming back!”

Adam watched the juniors escape in silence, until Gracie grabbed him by his jacket and jerked him into the sanctum. He straightened as Gracie shut the door, locking them inside.

She walked over to the bishop’s desk and eased herself onto the tattered leather chair behind it. Adam sniffed the air while Gracie took another long swig from the bottle of Black Dot, smelling faint and lingering traces of aromatic incense that had long seeped into the wood. His attention returned to the drunk in front of him as he heard her giggle.

“Feeling all right?” he asked, glancing at Gracie’s wiggling fingers as she beckoned him to come closer. “You seem…fucked up.”

Her costume horns dangled at a precarious angle from its perch on her blonde mane. “I’m the bishop now,” she said, a slur in her speech. “Motherfucker.”

“Yeah,” Adam agreed. “You’re definitely…something.” He rechecked the hour on his COM, more out of habit at that point, and found the same frozen 2242 digits displayed.

“Nothing’s changed,” called Gracie. “No need to check, love. Same shit as before.”

He met her eye again and found her pouting.

“Hm?” he said.

“You’re always looking at your COM. Like you don’t want to be here with me.”

“Don't exaggerate,” said Adam. “I haven’t looked at it that often.”

“Not that you’re aware of.” Gracie misjudged her strength as she placed the bottle back on the tablehe and the glass clinked against the wood as it made a loud impact. “Aren’t you having a good time with me?”

He reached for the Black Dot and took it from her, taking a sip himself. His mouth puckered at the bitter taste, though he hid that reaction. Ma was the one who told him that his father and El drank it all the time. Adam wasn’t drinking it because of them but…he was determined to drink it easy like they would.

“I’m having a great time,” he said.

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“Yeah, right.” Gracie’s reddening eyes bore into Adam with unexpected clarity. “You’re just waiting for Talitha to get here.”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” he replied, staying easy. “Don’t know why you’d say that.”

“One million tags. You hit it and all the rags covered it. Passed it, even. Fans are dying for you two to hook up in some fairytale romance I guess. Pendergast heir with a Pender-Pal refugee. So cute and so noble. War orphans can really make something of themselves here, right?”

“So?” Adam straightened the cuffs of his sleeves. “Fans want what they want but that won’t make it true. I’m here with you anyway and Spencer’ll be along soon enough. She’s more likely to get back with him, they’ve got some intense history. Bit more of that fairytale you’re looking for.”

“That’s why you’re trying to cut in,” said Gracie. “You like her. Have for a while. If anyone bothered to look they’d see it. You stare at her when you think no one's paying attention and you do it a lot.”

He laughed. “Well. Sounds like you’re the one who’s staring and you’re staring at me. A lot.” He shook his head. “I see tons of people, Grace. I’ve known Talitha for a while. We’re mates—as in friends. Good friends. She’s also still one of thousands of faces I have to remember and I’m good at that kind of stuff.”

Gracie watched wistfully as Adam tucked wisps of hair back that had fallen loose from his coiffed style.

“I really wish you’d drop the politician act for once. You’re always selling something, posturing for a camera even when there isn’t one." Gracie sighed as she folded her arms on the desk, dropping her chin into her arms. “You asked me out to keep me from fighting with Talitha. Someone told you about that note. I could tell that’s what it was about when you called me over, talking to me with her sitting there and introducing me to her like I didn’t know exactly who she was. You think you’re clever, don’t you?”

“I don’t know who you do or don’t know," replied Adam. "I was being polite before asking you out. Being, you know…courteous. That note business is ridiculous, anyway. Cut it out.”

The horns fell further over her forehead. A corkscrew curl flopped over her face. “You think I’ll go easy on her because I have a thing for you. Like I’m going to care that much about your attention.”

He chuckled. “If you didn’t care you wouldn’t have said yes.”

“Some ego on you. It’ll get you in trouble one day. Just watch.” Gracie's message came out muffled from within the cocoon she’d made with her arms. “A nasty surprise is waiting for you when everyone sees how empty you are.”

“You’re drunk, Grace.” Adam took another sip of the Black Dot. “Maybe more than drunk. Red Dot, Black Dot, you’re looking to add in some Purple…what other types could you possibly need?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She rose from the bishop’s chair and moved around the table until they were standing opposite each other. Adam recognized the look in her gaze—tipsy with a mix of pride and desire. “Stop pretending those meets never happened,” she said. “You play stupid whenever you see me but you liked it. So did I. You keep coming back because you know I treat you right. I know how to make you smile. Know what you like.”

Adam straightened the horns on her head. “We had good times,” he replied. “Had fun. Won’t say we didn’t. But I told you then what I’m telling you now—never meant anything. Just needed some distraction and you said you didn’t care.”

“I don’t.”

“You came after me when I was rebounding that Mid-Year—”

“Oh please.” Gracie tossed her head back and tittered with laughter. “Rebounding. From who—Gemara? Everyone knew she was a total whore. Still is. You knew it too but you were playing house, or whatever the fuck you were doing with her, when you knew what the deal was. You can’t rebound if you never really cared.”

“I did try,” retorted Adam sourly. “I believed her—at first—when she said she was trying to change. Felt bad for her and her reputation, how impossible it seemed for her to turn around. She said she was thinking about planning—”

“What you wanted to hear while ignoring everything else. Complete dogshit.”

“Fuck off. I don’t need your analysis.”

“Face it. You knew it was going nowhere but you wanted to play hero. It’s not who you are. You don’t care about anyone but yourself and your goals and I’m okay with that. You don’t have to pretend with me. I don’t need to be rescued or babied. I’d support you in whatever you want.” Gracie lay her palms against his cheeks, the slate in her gaze searching for mutual understanding. “You and I have history. Chemistry. You know I want you—and I have since Elementary. I knew it back then. I knew what you were. Remember that day you argued integration policy with my dad?”

Adam nodded slowly, recalling. “Aye.”

“We had a scrape that day, me and Pa. I liked that you could make him so mad.” She grinned. “He blew his fuse when you said Union would’ve fizzled out the minute we crashed on Ipir but thank God there were natives here to keep us from blowing ourselves up. Said we owe our existence and our fortune to the bloodsuckers who own this place. Called our ministries illiterate children, crawling and not walking to our future.”

Adam chuckled. Gracie’s hands slid down his chest and slipped underneath his suit jacket, her fingers tracing his waistband.

“I’m better at debating now,” he said. “Maybe I should pay Commissioner Finnegan another visit and revisit the topic. When I’ve got a title in front of my name, of course.”

“I’m sure he’d be thrilled. I know I’d be.” Her lids dropped low. “You’re irresistible, Pender. Everything I want. I can’t help myself around you and I won’t, either.”

“Right.” Adam tapped her arm as she nestled against him, her scent, something earthy, enveloping him. “So, you remember Course One of Parasitical Studies?” He glanced aside as she craned her head to nip his ear with her teeth. “When we were learning the sixteen origin hypotheses for the Ipirian infection?”

“Yeah.” Her teeth grazed a line to his jaw. “What about it?”

“There was a section that always stuck out in my mind. One about female cannibal insects. Remember that part?” Her hands traveled back up his chest, toying with the clasps of his shirt. “The man-eating ones?”

“Are you saying I’m a man-eater?”

“Yep.” He nodded. “The kind that bites her mate’s head off and devours his corpse after she’s done. Always thought that was sick.”

Gracie shifted back, still smiling. “I remember that course. Aced it. Maybe you forgot from the syllabus that a female cannibal does it if her mate’s weak or undesirable. You’re not weak…or undesirable.”

She tossed her hair and took the bottle away from him, resting it on the table to guide his hands to her curves instead. Another chuckle escaped Adam.

“Doesn’t seem like we’re talking anymore,” he said.

“Nah,” she replied huskily. “Let’s get to the point.”

“What’s the point?”

“I said yes to this date so we can make a deal. You give me what I want and I might lay off your applicant pet.”

“She’s not an applicant,” said Adam. “Not anymore. She’s a resident and part of Union. Part of Altir. One of us.”

“Still refugee scum and no, she’ll never be one of us.” Gracie scowled. “Ever. She’s diseased. Has poisoned blood. Fucking disgusting freak.”

“Well, Grace. You’re a bitch.”

“I know.” She shrugged. “And you’re an ass. Let’s state everything we know is true, if that’s what we’re doing.”

“What do you want?” he said.

“I told you already. You.”

“Ha.”

He tried to separate from her and she shook her head, pulling him back. “Give this ‘til the end of the school year. Three months, and that’s before your birthday, even. You see I’m being fair. After those three months, if you don’t love me, you can tell me that straight out and I’ll be fine.”

“Love? What the hell?” Adam grimaced. “When did we get to this? Something about the fucking moons makes you girls crazy. Don’t want to hear your love shit. You and I don’t do that.”

“I’m not crazy. I’m confident. And you don’t know what we’ll do if we’ve never tried it. Well, I mean, tried that.”

“Try what—love?”

“Yes.” She poked him with her finger. “What do you say, Senator? I mean—General? Quid pro quo? You scratch me and I’ll scratch you better, just the way you like.”

“So, if I’m hearing right,” he said. “If I date you for three months you’ll leave Talitha alone for good without issue. And you’ll quit the fighting crap. Right?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “Three of the wildest months you’ve ever had. Bet you didn’t expect the tables to turn.”

“That either makes you a blackmailer or makes me a prostitute.” He held up his hands. “You know…not really interested in either option, to be honest.”

She chuckled with genuine humor. “Of course you’d put it that way.”

“What way—logically?”

“Ha. Logic.” Her finger ran up the front of his jacket and stopped at his chin. “In three months you’ll figure out I’m really a soft, sweet girl under all of this, one with an overbearing family and a passion for keeping our people safe. I’m not that bad.”

He snorted. “You. Soft. Sweet? Not the words I’d use.”

“Yes, shithead. Me, soft. Sweet. And you…well, I’ll see in three months that there’s a good guy behind that slick wannabe politician act. Someone who sticks around when he wants to stick around. That can be our story.”

“Always some stupid emotional shit with you ladies,” Adam muttered.

“Always. But there’s more than that. More to me.”

Black Dot blurred his senses, more than the Red had. When Gracie's mouth found his he responded automatically and in a wash of intinctual movement his palm fell over her breast, cupping her fullness with a light squeeze. She deepened their kiss, placing her hand over his to keep it there, and in his swimming senses he found Gracie a halo of gold and red within the warm lights of the sanctum. Under the pads of his fingers her skin was smooth silk, gliding under his touch, and her face, naked of its usual haughty scorn, did appear soft and sweet in invitation for him.

Struck by the sudden submission, Adam stirred when Gracie pressed against him. The same feelings rushed him that he’d felt the other times they were together, a cavalcade of sensations that shoved them both into a quick heat. Gracie’s touch—their closeness—was hard for Adam to deny.

His stare remained on Gracie as she pulled away from him to return to the desk and hop up onto it, sliding up her skirt and parting her legs to show him that she wore nothing underneath. He followed her red-lacquered fingernails with his gaze as she traced a path along the inside of her smooth thighs up to where she waited.

“Fuck,” he said.

“Yeah,” she replied. “So come do something about it.”

He approached and she pressed her mouth to his like before, guiding his fingers to where she’d indicated and swallowing him with her passion when he obliged, caressing her. Her prodding touch clutched the clasp of his trousers, maneuvering to loosen them, and the urge to bury himself into her messy curls—to lose himself inside her as he’d done before—became unbearably strong. She was there, he was there, they were alone and there was time.

So…he retracted his hands from her body. Fast. He grimaced, stepping away, and shook his head in an effort to clear it.

No. Wrong.

Wrong.

Focus, he chided himself.

Dipshit.

“What happened?” Gracie squinted at him in confusion, glazed from the start of their encounter. “No good?”

“No, it’s not that,” he grumbled.

“What is it, then?” She took his hand and guided his fingers to her mouth, running her tongue along the tips to taste them. “You can touch me but I can’t touch you?”

He shook his grasp away from hers and his hands returned to his pockets as he put distance between them. “You’re drunk,” he said. “I’ll get where you are if I keep knocking these back. Don’t need you getting any more ideas about us. No love happening here.”

She shrugged, the smile still on her face as she drank from the bottle of Black Dot, emptying that one too. “We’ve got time,” she replied. “We’ll get to know each other. Maybe fall in love. The other things we do…that gets better too.” She winked at him. “Promise.”

“Are you going to leave Talitha alone?”

The humor faded in a flash. “After all that you’re still thinking about her.” Gracie hopped off the table and straightened her dress, concealing herself again. “Can’t believe your shit.”

“We’re negotiating. Remember? You said you wanted to make a deal so we’re drawing lines.” Adam shot her a meaningful look and returned to the door, unlocking it. The din of the crowd outside flooded back into the sanctum when he slid it open. “I wouldn’t be any good at this if I lost focus whenever something warm fell in my hands. Right?”

“Negotiating. Gotcha. That’s what we’re doing.” Gracie walked over to him, pausing to look at the crowd outside, lids narrowing. “Guess we’ll have to keep hammering out the details.”

She yanked him to her with sudden force and planted a long, hard kiss to his lips before shoving him away, leaving him to adjust himself as she reentered the bustle. He smoothed his hair into place and scanned the bodies passing through the office doors, finding that many new faces had replaced the ones who’d been there before.

His inspection slowed when he spotted familiar faces close to the entry beside a dealer’s setup, first Jonah then Ivan then Kalum. Standing beside them in an explosion of jarring color stood Talitha and his heart jumped at the sight of her for a fraction of a second. Just a fraction.

Just…

Adam pressed his lips tight to keep from smiling, as that was a surefire way to tell he was an idiot.

Bright red-gold strands hung loose in heavy sheets on either side of Talitha’s freckled face. Her bright, speckled gaze swept over Adam as he approached the group with a casual air. She was a glow of alien sunshine, like always, and Adam ignored the weird, stinging pain that shot through him when he greeted her as if nothing was wrong.

“Adam,” said Talitha, her smile fading as she met his eye. She smoothed her ridiculous frilled costume and her silly paper wings. “The look on your face—I can tell you hate this thing. You look like you’re going to puke.”

“What?” he replied.

“It was the last one close to decent at Enzo’s.”

“Oh.” He nodded. “Was it?”

“What was I supposed to do? Thought I wouldn’t find anything at all. I mean, maybe I could’ve come casual but…whatever. No fun in that.” Talitha reached back to touch the wings, shaking her head. “It’s these things, right? A little much. I told Kala—”

Kalum folded her arms over her chest and her words lisped through fake fangs that glinted in her mouth. “Li looks fine, Adam,” she said. “You’re gawking. It’s rude. I can’t tell if you’re being an ass right now because you’re always an ass.”

Adam’s gaze surveyed Talitha and her costume another time. “Sure,” he said.

Talitha tried to shield her face. “All right. Can we talk about something else? My costume’s dumb—I get it.”

Adam smiled. “Yeah. It’s dumb.”

“Now I feel like shit.”

“All right.”

The costume was dumb—but not because Talitha made it look that way. Wrong-sized and itchy-looking, Adam believed her when she said the outfit was a last minute choice made with lots of regret. Regardless, he couldn’t look away. Not from her. Not at all, no matter what she wore or what stupid things she said.

He was sure no one else on the planet could look as perfect as Talitha did that night.

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