Briefly, I consider taking a swipe at him, but I’d rather maneuver my way out of this. I stand and spin, my boots hitting the pavement, my hips swaying as I sashay my way back to him with a smile on my lips.
Stopping five paces from him, I tip my head back, my blonde hair cascading down my back. I curled it tonight, pinning it back at the sides so the waves fall softly across my shoulders—not my toughest look unfortunately. “I’m not the kind of girl you want to follow, buddy.”
A smile plays around his lips. Light dances in his emerald green eyes like dew drops on bright leaves. He adjusts his backpack and hooks his fingers into the pockets of his low-slung jeans in what feels like a deliberately relaxed gesture. “You’re exactly who I’m here for.”
He speaks as if he knows me more intimately than he should. The more I study him, I realize he’s supernatural, but he’s using magic to hide his true self. If only I had more of my tails, I’d be able to use my kitsune power to break through his magic and figure out what kind he is. Unfortunately, for now, he has me at a disadvantage, and all I know for sure is that he isn’t human.
He tips his head at the space above me, as if there’s something there. I’m not about to fall for the distraction, and his smile widens when I refuse to look.
His eyes sparkle brighter—unnaturally luminescent—until I realize it’s a trick of the light. A very bright trick of the light.
I gasp as a flashing beam of moonlight slants down in front of me, so vivid I’m forced to squint, but I refuse to cover my eyes, because I need to keep this guy in my sights.
In another blink, the light fades, leaving a silvery slip of paper floating in the air in front of me.
Tattoo guy hasn’t moved, not even to unfold his arms, but he looks distinctly relieved, his shoulders relaxing and his lips softening. He doesn’t move toward me though, and I guess he’s smart enough to know he should stay right where he is since I’m a woman on the edge right now.
I glare at the silver parchment as it continues to float lazily in front of me, then I snatch the damn thing out of the air.
I’m already shaking my head as I read the writing on the front of it: The Monster Ball.
No fucking way.
When I flip it over, the instructions on the back tell me the moon will bring me to The Ball at the witching hour on All Hallows Eve.
My mind was already working at a million miles an hour, assessing my surroundings, gauging the stranger’s intent, but now my thoughts speed wildly away from me.
Assuming the witching hour is midnight, then that’s… literally one minute away. Too soon to run home and change. Too soon to take a real breath and prepare. Well, at least I’m wearing my favorite perfume and my hair is more stylish than my normal ponytail. It’s the small things.
Slowly unfolding his arms, tattoo guy slips one hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out a silver object.
Scrunching my invitation in my fist, I brace for a weapon, preparing to evade or fight, depending on what he’s carrying.
Instead, it’s an identical slip of silver parchment.
He holds it up between his finger and thumb as if it’s some sort of prize before he takes a step back. “I’ll be seeing you again really soon, Olivia.”
How the hell does he know who I am?
I crush the silver invitation in the cocoon of my suddenly sweaty palm as he walks away.
Fuck. Fuckity—
The moonlight flashes again, even brighter than before, and an incandescent sensation rushes through my body, making my toes curl in my boots. The moon can feel like a drug to kitsune—invigorating, calming, or even inspiring—but it’s never felt this orgasmic to me before.
It looks like I have no say in whether or not I go to The Ball. Whatever power is controlling this experience is trying to make it as pleasant for me as possible, but that won’t stop me from fighting it. I open my hand, prepared to drop the invitation—
I blink.
The moonlight clears and I’m surrounded by thick, white mist instead of trees. The unwelcome sound of lapping water meets my ears, and I sense other people moving in the fog—supernaturals judging by the power I sense around them.
The fog clears but only directly in front of me, revealing a long dock with spires along it that slopes gently while twisting and turning with each step. A glance behind me confirms that I can’t see a thing in the fog, and it’s clear the only way is forward. I quickly run through my mind what I know about this party. From what I researched after Tori mentioned The Monster Ball, it’s hosted by a woman known only as The Proprietor. She controls everything, so I probably have her to thank for depositing me here in such a pleasant wave of moonlight.
I also know that, once here, nobody can leave until The Proprietor lets them.
Taking a cautious step forward feels like I’m about to jump off a cliff. The dock creaks beneath my boots. The mist finally opens up to reveal a red door. I step toward it, scanning the mist while the gentle swooshing of water I can’t see makes my skin prickle. There had better be solid ground behind this door.
I raise my hand to knock, but it swings open on its own and another swooshing sound fills the air.
Two identical gargoyles, both with dreads, swoop down toward me. They block the entrance with their leathery but rock solid wings.
The one on the left whose dreads are just a bit longer than the other nudges his twin brother. “What do we have here, Lex? A rebel with a cause? Or maybe without one?”
Lex adjusts his cherry red suit jacket that’s been made to look like reptile skin, and his black dress shirt pops another button open. “I’d prefer the latter. It would make the night more interesting, wouldn’t you say, Bronx?”
Not sure whether or not they’re just playing or maybe serious, my hands shoot up defensively. The Proprietor doesn’t like trouble at her parties, and I’d rather not be kicked out before I even step inside the door.
Now that I’m here… damn… the magic pulsing from inside is calling to me, and I have to go in, even if I don’t know exactly where I would be going.
Bronx strokes his goatee as his black eyes travel up and down my body. “She doesn’t meet the dress code.”
“Well, if the invitation had come sooner than sixty seconds to midnight, I might have had time to change.” My eyes narrow at each of them, my feelings of self-consciousness filtering through and making my speech more snippy than I intend.
Lex leaves his post and circles around me. “Maybe we could take pity on her? She seems a little like she needs a fairy godmother.”
My fingers open and close at my sides. I fight the desire to either smooth-talk them or muscle my way past, but they aren’t fickle humans. I can’t hustle them, and I’m certainly not about to let them hustle me.
“Are the two of you going to let me in?” The longer I’m out here, the more my desire to go inside grows.
Lex leans in close. “You need a ticket, sweetheart.”
I sneer at him. “I’m nobody’s sweetheart. Take a step back and you can have the damn ticket.”
My words don’t scare him, but they certainly entertain him based on the grin on his face. Once he’s an appropriate distance away, I pull the crumpled ticket out of my front pocket where I’d shoved it after being deposited into the fog.