Immortals After Dark 05 - Dark Needs at Nights Edge

smiled at Néomi, then glowered at Cade, who returned the look. Intéressant.
    The musicians she’d heard earlier began playing a melodic ballad with a heavy drumbeat that, of course, Néomi didn’t recognize. But the song flooded over her. She could feel the percussion in her belly, and for the first time in eight decades she needed to dance.
    “Go on and dance, Néomi,” Mari said. “We’ll wait right here. Just don’t go too far.”
    Néomi nodded happily. At the fire, the music commanded her and she obeyed. With each second she grew more used to her body, recalling how she could coax it to move, to glide... .
    Everything felt dreamlike. It seemed a night of magick.
    Soon, she sensed she was being watched. As she spun, she spied glowing red eyes in the dark, following her every movement.
    Conrad. Like a lion stalking a fawn.

    This must be a hallucination.
    She can’t be real. Conrad couldn’t process this. He’d wanted to go to her tonight. Over the last week, he’d ached to be able to touch her.
    Now, like an offering, she was here for him. In flesh and blood, so alive. Somehow she was no longer a ghost, no more black-and-white. Her cheeks were flushed with pink, her lips as red as her short dress.
    How could this change have happened?
    She looked like a pagan dancing by the fire with her wild flowing hair. The way her body turned and swayed was decadent, wicked. “Tantsija,” Conrad murmured.
    As ever, when she moved, he grew hypnotized. But now instead of merely soothing his mind, her dancing made his body feel taut, stretched like a wire. She’d been beautiful as a ghost. Like this, she was beyond compare.
    He could actually take that kiss that he’d burned for, could touch her full breasts... . No, he couldn’t—she surely hated him now.
    Even across the distance, he could hear her heart pumping with excitement, which meant that she could bleed. Which meant that he could hurt her. Or kill her.
    He’d fantasized about sucking at her neck. Would I ever be able to stop once I’d started?
    The ease he’d felt with her because he couldn’t harm her disappeared, replaced by dread.
    And now his enemies could target her. Tarut had just escaped him moments ago. Conrad bit out a vile curse when his arm began to ache under his bandage. Because my most fervent dream just materialized. What he’d coveted most was dancing right before him.
    You have to have a dream to lose it... .
    Yet his own heart lay dead in his chest. No breaths began to expand his lungs. Though Conrad was seeing her in the flesh, his blooding still wasn’t triggered. Disappointment welled inside him.
    Turn your back and leave.
    Just when he was about to trace, someone yelled, “Fight!”

27

    Bedlam broke out in seconds.
    The fight spread like a wildfire on parched grass. Beings began to change, eyes turning color, demeanors altering utterly, weapons appearing from seemingly nowhere.
    The delicate nymphs had somehow concealed daggers beneath those gauzelike skirts and brandished them with battle cries. In the distance, she saw Cade and Rydstrom wielding broadswords. The Sirenae fiddled with something on their voice boxes that allowed them to dispatch concentrated shrieks, dropping their foes to the ground with bleeding ears.
    Néomi caught sight of Mari and Bowen hastening to her. “Stay there!” Mari cried.
    “Oui,” she said faintly. She was too shocked to move.
    But then Mari got hit by a stray elbow, sending her flying. Bowen went savage, beginning to turn to his werewolf form. Néomi gasped. Terrifying. She was glad she’d been forgotten by the Lykae—until the frenzied crowd engulfed her.
    How had she thought she could handle this? An accidental jab of an elbow wouldn’t kill the immortal Mari, but Néomi might not survive it. Was this how she’d get capped? So soon?
    She tried to duck and run but kept getting caught back up in the current of beings. Each surge pressed her ever closer to the fire. The band played on, seeming as oblivious as the Titanic’s.
    Then she saw him.
    He was hard to miss as he charged for her, towering over others. He had dark sunglasses on, but she knew his eyes were fixed on her.
    Without ever turning from her, he dropped any being in his direct path to her. She’d never seen anyone who could fight like him, so methodical but vicious—so practiced. His fangs were razor sharp, his neck and chest muscles straining.
    If warriors fought back, he twisted necks and backhanded them,