Heather Long: Waiting in the Wings

But one look at the clock stymied the desire creeping over her. It had been a lot longer than two hours.

Closer to eight.

Panic flared.

When is sunrise?

Spinning on a heel, she darted for the door and pulled it open as silently as she could. Speeding through the unfamiliar apartment, she found her shoes near the door. She vaguely remembered tugging the boots off to dance around on the furniture. Heat suffused her skin. The reckless abandon allowed her to accompany a total stranger—three total strangers—to a private apartment, and the reality of it all sobered her mood.

She opened the front door a crack when a hard masculine arm slammed it shut. Richard spun her around and pressed her right up against the door. Gloriously nude and rumpled from sleep, his mouth fused with hers and stifled her objections. Releasing her lips, he leaned his forehead to hers. “Where are you going?”

Even his voice, husky and deep from sleep, sent shivers racing up her spine.

“I have to go.” She sighed. “Places to see, people to be.”

He drifted closer, the musky scent of him wrapping around her. He nuzzled her cheek and feathered kisses along her ear. “You don’t have to go anywhere…”

She stopped his sensual assault with a hand flat against his chest. “Look, sexy beast, this was fun, and those orgasms were amazing. But I have to go now.”

His expression darkened. “Kristina…”

“Richard?” She lifted her eyebrows, challenging.

“We have much to discuss. You need to stay here.” Command flowed through his tone and stroked against her.

Trailing her fingers down his chest, she admired the cut of his muscles even if he was paler than the guys she might normally tease. Her sex clenched, but her internal clock ticking down warned her against giving in. “I appreciate the offer, beastie boy, I really do. But I have a show tonight…” Inspiration struck and she gave him a little shove backwards. “Midnight Mystery Lounge—come watch me. Maybe we’ll party again after.”

He let her move him, but when she tried to open the door, he pulled her back around. “No. No more shows. No more performances. It’s time for you to come home.” The demand scorched her—urged her to obey—and she shoved again. Only this time he didn’t move.

“Yeah, okay. Look—you’re great in bed. Loved the sex. Had a blast. Even enjoyed the bite. But stop being a douche. You don’t own me.” Twisting beneath his arm, she hooked her leg behind his and pushed. But he snaked an arm around her waist and instead of toppling, he had her back up against the door.

“Kristina, look at me.” His gaze pinned her. His pupils dilated. The room faded away, elongating behind him as though the world retreated in a rush. His eyes filled her vision, his heart thundered in her ears and his scent filled her nostrils. “Remember.” The word, heavy with so much meaning, pushed at her and the world snapped, like a rubber band stretched too far. The recoil stung and Kiki did the only thing she could think to do.

She drove her fist into his solar plexus. She aimed lower, but he dodged. Breaking from the trance, she wrenched the door open and marched over to the elevator. Goon One and Goon Two straightened as she exited. She punched the button to summon the elevator. Awareness blanketed her.

Richard stood at her back.

“Don’t.” She ordered. She could barely make out his reflection in the golden doors, but his hand hovered at her shoulder.

“Kristina…”

The doors opened and she stepped inside, pivoting to face him. “My name is Kiki. Thanks for the fun—and the creepy look into my eyes shtick. I enjoyed it.”

She winked and hit the down button. Richard stared at her, brows drawn together in a scowl so fierce relief flooded her when the doors closed him out. She sagged back against the wall, heart pounding. Bravado was all well and good, but she had a feeling she just poked that sexy beast a little too hard.

Rubbing her fingers against her lips, lightheadedness surged through her. She flicked a look to the controls. The elevator’s descent seemed to be taking forever. The languid heat from their lovemaking receded. Sunrise was close.

Too close.

“Hurry.” She whispered. She couldn’t afford to be caught in the open. “C’mon…” Her foot tapped and as soon as the doors opened, she rushed out.

The normal throngs of people and creatures were absent from the lobby. She cut across the sphinx’s path and circled the fountain. Stan leaned against the entrance to the theatre and her heart sank.

He just stared at her.

“I am not even going to try and explain.” She gave him a tired grin. Her cheeks ached, and it took effort to smile. Lethargy pumped through her blood. The sun’s ascent sped the day’s arrival.

“Good.” Expressionless, he nodded, but made no move to get out of her way. Kiki cut her gaze to the left. Sound muted, like a dozen cotton balls being stuffed into her ears.

“Stan…”

The guardian merely looked at her. His folded arms, firm stance and cold eyes denied her.

“I have to get inside.” She looked left again. Sunlight glittered like red fire on the horizon. Liquid gold spilled upwards behind the building…and splashed against the front windows, stretching out like greedy fingers across the marble floor.

Fear stabbed her in the belly.

“Stan…”

The guardian didn’t move. “You escaped the safety of the theatre. We cannot be held responsible for what happens next.”

The elevator doors dinged across the lobby. She twisted to look back… no, no no…not like this. She didn’t want Richard to see her. He couldn’t see her when this happened. Wrenching around, she begged Stan with her eyes. “Please…”

The sun inched closer, and icy heat swarmed over her. Her heart slowed, her hands clenched. Richard appeared in her periphery, his dark slacks open at the waist and his dark expression tight.

“Don’t look at me.” She ordered him. “Look away.” But the words garbled, mashing together with the slowness of her tongue. Denied entrance, she would die on this spot when the sun touched her. Frozen, she could only stand there and wait her inevitable end. At least she got to have sex—really, freaking amazing sex—before it ended. A tiny sigh escaped. She would like to have danced the lead too. But…

She closed her eyes, the lids fluttering down, desperate to not see his face when the end came and a sparkling gray curtain dropped over her, blotting out the world.

Rage and frustration drove Richard to follow her down to the lobby. It imploded, sucked into a black hole of horror. Malcolm had warned him. He had explained the curse trapping the dancers to their servitude—a curse that transformed them into a doll-like state while the sun rose. The sunlight trickling through the paned glass windows continued to inch forward toward her booted feet. Everything about her changed, except for her clothing. She looked like a mannequin.

The salt-and-pepper haired man she’d fled in the casino stepped forward and put his hand on Kristina’s porcelain arm. Violence strained at the leash of common sense. He needed a plan. A plan to recover her memory and free her. A plan that extended beyond attack.

“Interesting. You are not surprised.” He lifted Kristina’s frozen form to his shoulder, carrying her as he would just so much extra weight.

Surprised? No. Horrified? Yes. Richard refused to share those thoughts, however. He studied the man. He had no scent, his heart rate didn’t increase and no blood pounded ferociously through his system—there was no trace of fear on him at all. “Where will you take her?”

“Downstairs. She will be performing tonight—maybe. You can check the schedule later. And I suggest finding a shirt and shoes. Dress code is lax, but not that lax.” The man turned, and the doors opened as if by a thought, and he carried Kristina inside. Richard forced himself not to follow. When one of his men stepped forward, he held up a hand.