It looked like a scene out of a movie. A throng of bodies were already grinding on the dance floor. She walked easily past a pack of classmates and dragged me along. I was happy to report that everybody glanced at us when we passed. Dragon perfume or amazing dresses? My bets were on both.
“Signature cocktail is The Temptation,” the bartender told us. He adjusted his thick black eyeglasses as Priscilla passed a bill over to him.
“He’s cute,” I muttered. “He was totally checking you out.”
“You think? Maybe I’ll be the one to grab our drinks tonight.”
“I have money,” I reminded her. Dracus had revealed that there was a stash of shifter-currency down in my closet. It was topped up once a month with a small allowance. I had quite a bit since I hadn’t discovered it until last week. “Let me give you money for the next round.”
The bartender came back, with pinker cheeks, I thought, and we took our drinks. Away from the dance floor, there was a series of giant booths made out of the same leather I’d seen in Enrique’s secret room. Here was the red lighting, softly lighting up the gorgeous bodies. The heads turned, male and female, as we strolled past them to land in an empty one.
Some dragon-shifters stopped by to say hello to Priscilla. I introduced myself and tried to remember their names. An especially handsome one named Lucius caught my eye, but it was because his name was in that romance novel I read.
“Enrique throws amazing parties,” a girl named Angelique said as she flipped her head. I nodded enthusiastically and sipped my drink. They lingered at our table for a few more minutes. I should’ve peed before I left.
“Does this party have a bathroom?” I asked Priscilla. She pointed to one of the far corners. I excused myself after draining my glass and took it with me. When I put it on the bar for the bartenders, it was the same guy who’d helped us earlier.
“My friend thinks you’re cute,” I told him as he picked up the glass. He grinned and shot me a thumbs up.
I turned to head towards the bathroom and nearly bumped into someone. A familiar blond and the party host, looking scrumptious in fitted slacks and a black shirt that was unbuttoned to show off his chest.
“Princess, you cannot show up looking like that here,” Enrique said as he twirled me in his arms. “My God, where did you get that dress?”
“Priscilla. Cool party.”
“All my thanks to Priscilla,” he said and bent his hands together in a praying fashion.
From some place above us, I could hear someone call out, “Enriqueeeee.”
“Your ladies are waiting,” I said with a chuckle. A few heads popped over the edge of a hanging platform that was suspended from the roof, just enough for me to see the short skirts and flowing hair present in the special area. Enrique’s VIP booth, I imagined, where they could watch everything. Would he be watching me? My skin burned. Before he could say anything, I headed off to the bathroom. Unlike a nightclub, the bathrooms here were surprisingly nice. Ren asked if I would be bothered to see Enrique being worshipped by his usual clique of babes.
No Council Boy thoughts tonight. I washed my hands and made a bee-line back to Priscilla. More people had joined our booths. I recognize a lion-shifter by the name of Patrick and a wolf-shifter named Laurelei. They made room for me to sit next to Priscilla.
“Hey, everybody.”
“Hi,” Patrick said and glanced around. “We don’t have to worry about your bodyguards tonight?”
I blushed. “I guess some people have noticed. I tend to get in trouble.”
“Sam was a jerk to do that,” Laurelei said and sipped her cocktail. “Don’t worry, Fiona, we’re friends with Priscilla.”
Oh, no. Should I be worried?
Patrick grinned at his friend (girlfriend?) from the side. “What she means is that we won’t ogle at you up close because of your unique status as a late-shifter.” She swatted him and planted a kiss on his cheek. Definitely dating or friends with benefits.
Too bad I wasn’t a late-shifter. What would happen if I screamed that I was a fraud at the top of my lungs? Probably not a good idea…
“The bartender is into you,” I told Priscilla covertly when Patrick and Laurelei broke into some flirty banter. She grinned and held her empty glass.
“I’ll grab us another round.”
As she did, Laurelei placed a gentle handle on my arm. “Fiona, you wanna dance? Shifters are sooooo bad at dancing. I’d be interested to see you trying.”
“Are they bad?” I asked, glancing at the dancefloor. There seemed to be a mix of breakdancing and grinding going on.
She rolled her eyes. “You can’t see it, but everyone’s just throwing in their clan and shifter moves or fucking with their clothes on.”
“Hey, lion shifters have moves,” Patrick teased. His nose brushed hers and she chuckled demurely.
I wondered if all lions were flirty.
“Let’s go dance,” she pressed. “Priscilla will meet us on the dance floor.” She wrapped an elegant hand around both my and Patrick’s arm. Turns out she was stronger than she looked. We smashed onto the dance floor and she pulled us inside, but closer to the bar. Priscilla arrived with drinks.
“I can’t dance to save my life,” Priscilla said. She watched me start rolling my hips.
In truth, mom’s latest craze before I left home was belly dancing. I’d picked up most of my moves from her DVDs and a modern dance class that we sometimes went to at the local YMCA. Not exactly a cultural shifter dance, but it would work. They didn’t need to know.
“How do you do that?”
“You just roll with your hips,” I explained to her. “Move your arms like water.” She tried and it came out looking more like a robot. We descended into a fit of laughter.
“Shifters have spent so much time training that we never dance,” Laurelei said in a giggling voice over her shoulder. She and Patrick didn’t seem to have any trouble though, pressed together with their foreheads and pelvises together, swaying in a rhythm.
“Did you go dancing a lot at home?” Priscilla asked me over the music. It seemed as if it had suddenly gotten louder.
“Not too much. I was too young to get into clubs for the most part,” I reminded her and then grinned. “This is helping me forget shifter boys.”
Clinking our glasses, we downed the drinks and placed them on a lone table. We danced and I giggled, trying to show Priscilla more moves. She was too stiff. Shifters were great at many things, but dancing wasn’t one of them. Their movements were raw and savage, which was beautiful but far different from the dancing I was used too.
I hadn’t noticed that a small circle was forming around us, backing up to give us room. We were having too much fun. I tapped her hip and showed how to pop it.
“You can drop it down super sexy if you want,” I told her in a whisper and showed her how to drop down into a suggestive squat position.
A cheer came up from behind me. I whirled around to see the small circle looking on. Laurelei hopped in.
“Show me!” she cried. “I want to learn.”
I showed her, and she was surprisingly good, which earned an enthusiastic round of applause from Patrick. Soon, more people joined in. Leading a dance class for shifters wasn’t exactly what I had planned for the night, but the universe works in mysterious ways.
Priscilla giggled as we fell into a bout of dancing. Her lips brushed my ear as she whispered, “Enrique’s watching you.”
I didn’t look up to verify. If I did, my dancing would’ve crawled to a halt.
“Think he’s mad that I made his party a dance class for shifters?”
She cackled and answered by dropping into a split. I cheered. There were certainly more things that she could do besides dance. We danced for what seemed like hours. Laurelei or Patrick, when not canoodling, would run out for drinks and water. Sometimes, Priscilla wandered to the bar herself, growing braver and braver with the bartender.
“You should leave your number on a napkin,” I suggested. She shrugged.
“As if I could ever see him. This place is closed down like a fortress for students besides these little parties. He lives on the outside, for sure.” She flashed a longing look towards the bar where her hunk was helping someone else.
“You could try.”
I had to stop for another bathroom break. The basements were cool, but I desperately wanted fresh air. I peed in one of the stalls, and as I did, I overheard a gaggle of girls come in.
“He’s being so lame this week—” Nails scraped against something glass. They were probably putting on makeup.
I ignored them and continued my business, bopping my head along to the muffled music that I could still hear from the dancefloor. My head buzzed from the alcohol.
“I know. I tried to get him to come to my dorm. Zero interest. You think we should move on?”
“Who knows?” The first voice asked. I heard the zipper of a bag. “Enrique’s dropped his main girlfriends down to three already. I don’t have much hope.”
Heels clattered against the stone floor and left as quickly as they’d come. I stayed inside the stall for a second; my heart slamming against my chest. Enrique’s harem was complaining about him? I bit my lip and quickly finished, washing my hands.
Council boys weren’t supposed to bother me tonight.