Dancing implied normal, human movement. This was motion supercharged by the strength and grace that came with LS. It was bodies leaping high in the air, twisting in ways that should have been painful and that would have broken a reg body to pieces.
It was beautiful. And disconcerting. As were the low shadows that stalked the edge of the crowd, wolves whose fur looked ultraglossy under the multicolored glow.
A bar hugged one side of the room and people were lined up three-deep for drinks.
It was a club. A werewolf club.
Gooseflesh swept down my arms. Having LS didn’t make you a monster—I knew that—but being surrounded by so many people who could rip me to shreds left me feeling claustrophobic and off balance. Especially so soon after Ben.
I glanced at Serena. Purple and red light bounced off her dark complexion and an expression that looked almost like longing flashed across her face. She mumbled something that might have been “wicked,” but it was hard to hear over the music.
Jason, on the other hand, looked like he was ready to crawl out of his skin. A muscle jumped in his jaw, and I wasn’t sure if it was the mere presence of so many werewolves that left him looking slightly ill or the thought of what they might do if they found the symbol hiding under his collar.
Eve scanned the crowd and called over a giant who looked capable of picking up Jason and tossing him across the room.
Most of what they said was lost under the music, but I caught the tail end of their exchange during a gap between songs.
“Shit, Eve. I only came in for a minute.” He tugged on a silver hoop—one of many—in his ear.
“Think he’ll care? Just keep them out of trouble until I get back, okay?” Before the man could argue, she disappeared into the crowd.
I started after her as the music swelled up again.
A heavy hand on my arm pulled me back. “Stay put,” growled the giant, his voice rising over the music.
Eve had lied about not recognizing Kyle’s picture back at the coffee shop. There was no way I was just going to stand here and trust her to bring him to us.
I glanced at Jason. From the look on his face, he was thinking the same thing, but he shrugged and nodded meaningfully at the dance floor. If we drew attention to ourselves, it wouldn’t be three against one: it would be three against every wolf in the room.
Serena rolled her eyes at us and stepped between me and the wolf. Just before she turned her head, I glimpsed a smile that could have made armies crumble. One male werewolf didn’t stand a chance.
She rose up on tiptoe and said something near the man’s ear before moving around to his other side.
His gaze followed her like a compass finding north, and Jason and I slipped away.
We skirted the crowd, weaving around small groups of conversation and wolves who danced like it was their last night on earth. I scanned each face we passed. None of them was Kyle’s.
I headed for a staircase in the corner of the room, giving a wide berth to a couple making out in the shadows. The music faded to bearable levels as we climbed to the second floor.
A trio of wolves with midnight-black fur bolted past us as we reached the landing, and I couldn’t quite suppress a shiver before glancing around.
Here, it was less dance club and more pool hall. It was the kind of place I would find my father in on Sunday afternoons when I was a kid. Lamps hung like spotlights over scarred pool tables where money was put down, lost or won as angles were worked and tempers flared.
A blond man, his back half to us, leaned over a table as he lined up a shot. My heart tried to leap in different directions before momentarily stopping completely. Ben.
I wanted to move, but I was paralyzed.
The man straightened and turned. The air escaped my lungs in a rush as my heart kicked back into gear. Not Ben. I pressed a hand to my chest.
Jason was staring at me, brow creased. “Are you all right?”
I opened my mouth to lie, to tell him I was fine, but the words died in my throat. Standing thirty feet away, staring out one of the few windows that wasn’t boarded up, was Kyle.
He didn’t notice me. Not at first. He leaned against the window frame and pressed the knuckles of his right hand to the wood, a soft punch that might have been frustration or boredom. Then, with a deep breath, he straightened and turned.
Even at a distance, dark hollows were visible under his eyes, and it looked like a toss-up between what he had done last: slept or shaved. It had only been a few days, but he seemed somehow thinner and taller, like he had been stretched out.
I started to step forward and then hesitated. Relief. Hurt. Worry. A small flash of anger. I’d left everything behind to find him, but now that he was in front of me, I wasn’t sure what to do or feel.
Kyle’s eyes found mine.
I wanted to run; I forced myself to walk.
Twenty questions chased shock across his face as I came to an uncertain stop in front of him. I desperately wanted to cross those last two feet, but I couldn’t. I stood before him—gutted with every emotion exposed—and waited for him to say something. Anything.
After a long moment, he reached out and cupped my cheek with his palm. “Mac?”
A tremble radiated out from my chest and stole my breath. Caught between wanting to laugh with relief or cry, I settled for closing my eyes and turning my face into the touch.
Kyle’s hand fell away and I opened my eyes. “Hi,” I whispered, the tiny word hesitant and inadequate.
“What—” Kyle’s voice was a shock-choked rasp. He had to swallow and start again. “What are you doing here?” Something sparked in his eyes, and before I could answer, his lips were suddenly on mine, crushing and hungry and maybe a little desperate.
We were standing in the middle of a werewolf bar in a strange city, but it all faded as I wrapped my arms around Kyle’s neck and kissed him as though we were the only two people in the world.
After a moment, he let out a rough sigh and eased back slightly. I pressed my cheek to the cotton of his shirt—the gray Arcade Fire shirt he’d been wearing the day he left—and listened to the rapid thud-thump of his heart. Even for a werewolf, it seemed to beat too fast.
Kyle pressed his lips to the top of my head. “Idiot,” he breathed. “I can’t believe you came after me.” The words were chiding, but the tone was gentle. Almost relieved.
I pulled back just far enough to stare into his eyes. “What did you expect us to do?”
“Us?” Kyle scanned the room. His gaze focused on a spot just over my shoulder and his eyes darkened.
I turned.
Jason.
“He wanted to help.” I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to explain. Despite everything, they were best friends. Of course Jason had come to Denver.
“You shouldn’t be here. Either of you.” Kyle put a hand on my back and steered me toward the stairs.
I sidestepped him. Hating the way my voice trembled, I said, “You’re coming with us, right?”
“I . . .” Kyle shook his head. “The reasons I left haven’t changed.”
Jason was close enough to hear. “Come to the motel. We’ll talk. If you still want to stay, we’ll go, but you at least owe Mac that.”
I caught a flash of brightly colored fabric near the stairwell. The giant who was supposed to be watching us had one hand wrapped firmly around Serena’s arm and was searching the room. We were out of time.
“Please, Kyle.” I didn’t want to beg—shouldn’t have to beg—but I would. “Just come with us for a little while.” If we could just talk to him away from this place, he’d see that he belonged back home.
The Adam’s apple in his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I can’t. It’ll just make things too hard. Trust me.” His hand was suddenly on my back again, steering me forward. I twisted away as Jason grabbed his arm.