Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 192810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 964(@200wpm)___ 771(@250wpm)___ 643(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 192810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 964(@200wpm)___ 771(@250wpm)___ 643(@300wpm)
No sign.
None needed.
Such was the allure of the Pink and Black Club.
“We’re here,” Cat whispered with excitement.
The instant she did, my stomach performed an odd, and profound, drop. I blinked at the strength of the sensation but put it down to breaking the seal of going out and being in the world for the first time since my attack. The first time after my beast was murdered. The first time since the nightmare any shifter feared the worst happened to me.
I drew in a deep breath and let it out, much preferring the idea of simply gliding on and continuing to gab with my gals, perhaps going through a flyby to get something fried and awful for us while we did it.
But I told myself it wasn’t going to be that bad. A few drinks. More girl talk. Once they started flirting, I could start people watching.
Then I could be at home with my cats, wearing my pajamas, with a tub of stem ginger frozen custard, a cup of tea, and maybe a Dolph Windstalker flick (he was a terrible actor, and possibly a terrible person, but he wasn’t hard on the eyes).
A couple of hours.
Maybe three.
And then I could be out of these uncomfortable shoes, and equally uncomfortable dress, and this would be over.
I could do it.
Cat’s dad’s pilot opened the door, and that sensation in my stomach happened again, this time deeper, almost painful, but also curiously, maybe even impossibly…pleasurable.
What in the realms was that?
Cat got out. Gayle got out.
I sat in the craft.
They turned to look in at me.
Dang.
I guess I had no choice.
Time to do it.
I got out too.
Chapter 2
Phantom
If the stomach thing was weird, the minute I put my stiletto-heeled sandal to the pavement was weirder.
I felt flush all over.
Right, this wasn’t good.
Was I having some sort of panic attack?
Before I could decide, Gayle encouragingly tucked her arm through mine, pulled me fully from the craft and forward while Cat waved something on her Palm unit at one of the doormales.
He jutted his chin to another doormale, who broke off and guided us down the pavement.
We followed, and as for my part, I did it deep breathing and concentrating on the chill autumn-is-right-around-the-corner air to help combat that weird flush.
Thankfully, this worked.
He stopped well down the pavement, standing against the glossy black exterior of the skyscraper where the Pink and Black Club took most of the lower floor (save the lobby). It was also rumored Prince Aleksei not only owned the building but had a penthouse at the top of it.
“First time?” the doormale queried.
Before Catla could pretend we were regulars (something she would do), Gayliliel piped up, “Yes.”
He nodded. “You’ll go in. To the left, check your units with the bot on duty. You’ll walk through a scanning tube. Any weapons, send, receive or recording units will be identified in the tube, so check them before you enter. If you don’t, you’ll be ejected from the club and banned from returning.”
We all nodded, unsurprised that rich people protected their safety and privacy at all costs.
He put his palm to the shiny black façade of the building and an until-then invisible panel shifted inward before it slid to the side.
Nifty.
“Enjoy your evenings, ladies,” he murmured as we trooped in.
I noticed, as Gayle moved at my side, he had his eyes aimed at her behind. This meant I further noticed he was fae, and he was hot.
Hmm.
The door sealed behind us in a manner that was mildly alarming, but Cat was already handing over her Palm to a bot standing behind a counter in an alcove to the side. I dug mine out of my shimmery pink evening bag, surprised that the bot on duty was not one of the more expensive humanoid ones.
Then again, the polished black metal that made up the body of the machine couldn’t be on theme if it looked like a human.
It took our Palms, scanning our left retinas for pickup purposes, then we headed into the tube, the blue and green lighting circling the five or so feet of it being the only lighting in the narrow space.
“One at a time,” the bot’s mechanical voice came at us as we moved as a group to the tube.
Cat, as ever, went first.
Gayle pushed me in next.
I lifted an already achy foot (these shoes were fabulous, but they were also torture devices) to step into the tube.
And I froze.
I did because a feeling made itself known in my chest. Like a feather fluttering. Almost imperceptible. But I felt it.
I felt it.
And I knew what that feeling was.
Longing and melancholy assailed me.
Gods.
After I got home from the hospital, I’d looked it up and learned there could be phantom sensations of your beast, even after it was gone. There’d also been reports of a beast communicating with you, when that could no longer happen. This occurred especially if you elected not to have its essence surgically removed after death, which I absolutely elected not to do.