Of course he followed me, looking irritated.
Leading him on a chase was all well and good, but the possibility of the catch was important too, so I crooked a finger, beckoning him closer.
He obliged.
I put my hands on his hips. At least this way I could control the distance between us. "Keep up," I shouted over the music.
Then I closed my eyes.
I have no idea how long we danced. Samson didn't press his luck, keeping a slight distance between our fronts. His hands, however ran up and down along my sides. Over and over again. It went with the music so I let him continue.
He smiled at me, his hair plastered to his forehead. His shirt had been discarded at some point and beads of sweat trickled down his abs. A lot of people, men and women both, were doing their share of looking and I had no doubt that a lot of Instagram streams featured new pics of Samson ‘dancing fool' King.
I started giggling.
"What's so funny?" he asked.
I bit off my laughter at the sight of Rohan sandwiched between two girls, his jacket discarded. Heat pooled in my belly watching him, one hand splayed against a woman's waist, his hips rolling and grinding in perfect harmony with his partners.
The bass wasn't the only thing throbbing. I fanned myself with the neckline of my dress, realizing that I stood stock still in the middle of the dance floor. I quickly turned my attention back to Samson only to find him fixed on Rohan with an expression of pure hatred. I laced my fingers through his and squeezed to get his attention. Not the hand with my Rasha ring. I had enough presence of mind not to blow the glamour.
Samson focused back on me and I mimed getting water. I had no idea where my shoes were, so I made my way over to the bar in bare feet, keeping a close hold on my target.
We passed a woman in fairy wings reclining on a couch in the back corner, a sensual smile on her face as she watched her girlfriend dance. It was sexy until the dancer turned, revealing the panic in her frozen features. Her movements were jerky, as if she was fighting them. As if she was trying to stop and couldn't.
The woman on the couch tipped her head back, her eyes glazed in cruel lust. Shit! Demon. I sped up, veering for the dancer.
The demon shuddered and the dancer collapsed. That got the attention of the people around her, who came to the fainted woman's aid.
The spawn slunk off through the press of bodies.
"She should have paced herself," Samson said into my ear.
I'd bet a million bucks he knew exactly what had just happened but I didn't let on. "That's why we're hydrating," I said. I prayed the dancer would be okay.
I consumed several glasses of water before pressing one into Samson's hand. "Drink." I wasn't sure if evil fiends suffered from dehydration but in case he was one, I wanted him in good health when we killed him.
Samson ran his fingers over my sunburst. "You're melting." It was true. All my sweat had smeared the sun.
I stared at his hand, drawing small circles over my skin. I didn't want it to feel good but I was on E.
Samson grew bolder, tracing along the neckline of my dress. Then he punched me. Not intentionally, but someone jostled into him, and as he crashed into me, his hands folded over into a fist, bopping me on my right boob.
"Ow!" I rubbed my chest, spinning to berate the clumsy dolt that had hit us.
Rohan gave me a crooked grin, his drink splashing everywhere.
My brow creased. Mr. Control looked plastered. Something about that didn't feel right.
He waved the drink at me, draping an arm around my shoulders. "Found you." His eyes were a bit too bright. His voice a bit too loud. "Time to go."
"Okay, bye," Samson said. To Rohan.
Rohan stumbled between Samson and me, his back to King. The grin fell from his face. His eyes were cold.
He was totally sober and not kidding about us leaving.
I stepped around him with an apologetic smile to Samson. I was tired, and beyond the sun tattoo, I hadn't learned anything useful about our target. "Talk tomorrow?"
Samson's expression hardened. "I'm busy." Adieu, our tenuous connection.
"Maybe we could stay a bit longer," I hedged.
Rohan fell against me, back in drunk-mode. His fingers dug into my skin. "Don't keep me waiting, baby," he slurred.
"Staying or going?" Samson asked when I still hesitated.
The crowd roared as the DJ wound them up, their collective energy rippling through the room in a sinuous pulse.
I threw Rohan's arm off of me, despite his fumbled attempt to keep me close. "I'm still not over my jet lag." I spoke directly into Samson's ear since the music was almost deafening now. "I need to sleep. A rain check. Please? I promise to make it up to you."