They were all good looking guys, made even more attractive by their boyish excitement for the mission ahead of us; but the best looking among them all was obviously, or at least in my opinion, Jericho. He smartly slicked back his hair out of his eyes, since he had yet to trim it and his angular jaw jutted out strongly against the severe hair style. He borrowed one of Xander's perfectly fitting suits, a charcoal pinstriped number with matching vest, a black collared shirt and a silver tie tucked stylishly into his vest.
I looked up at him for a moment, in awe of his calmed nerves and flawless resolve. I slipped my hand into his, desperate to attach my anxious energy to his magic, hoping he could sooth my frayed energy and strengthen my shrinking courage.
“What if they notice me?” I asked aloud, biting my bottom lip and reminding myself of Amory's all-powerful magic that blended seamlessly with my blood.
“That's bound to happen,” Jericho said hoarsely, looking down at me with a mischievous smile, and letting his eyes sweep over me.
I cleared my throat nervously, smoothing out the wrinkles in my short, fiery red evening dress that I picked up earlier. Titus took me out this afternoon to the Champs Elysees, the main street and shopping district in Paris, where I ran into a store, shouted in very broken French what I needed, and threw down one of my new credit cards without even trying the new dress on or looking at the total.
I gasped in horror when I clambered back into the taxi, precious dress in my possession and thousands of dollars poorer. Titus promised that I would not even notice the spent money and talked me down from my buyer's remorse ledge. I was grateful for him in that moment.
I was even more grateful for the store clerk that must have taken pity on my wild eyes and tragic appearance and outfitted me with one smoking hot cocktail dress. The top was tight, hugging my curves with silky red satin in the front and elegant black lace in the back. The neckline was high and felt modest, but the way the bodice hugged me suggested anything but propriety. The skirt ballooned out in silky, tiered, uneven ruffles that ended somewhere short of mid-thigh. A black satin sash tied in a bow, almost too big of a bow, around my waist pulled the look together.
I pulled my long, wavy black hair over my shoulder and pinned it carefully so that my unfading, shimmering, blue tattoo would stay hidden. I kept the necklace on the outside of my dress, the dead black stone dangling against the delicate satin and knocking the emerald engagement ring while I walked. The necklace was a reminder of my place in royal society, or lack thereof. After the look was pulled together, after the black heels were fastened and the matching crimson lipstick applied, I couldn't help but feel dangerous. I was on a mission tonight, and poor Sebastian didn't know what was about to hit him.
“All right, does everyone remember the plan? We enter separately and meet back at the bar in fifteen minutes,” I reminded the boys. My heart pumped in rhythm to the fast bass line as music grew louder; we were almost there.
The guys nodded in reply and I laughed to myself. This was not their first mission, I was the newbie. There was absolutely no reason to remind them of anything. Titus quickened his pace, holding a wrapped birthday present awkwardly under his arm and took the lead.
The rest of us held back until Xander and Xavier felt that there was adequate space between Titus and them and then separated themselves from us as well. They each held a gift; I found it amusing to think about a time when someone would open all of these presents and find someone's random throw pillows and a cricket mallet that was almost used to smash my head in earlier in the day.
Jericho looked down at me, our hands already interlocked and smiled. “We will have to pull off looking like a couple,” he said shyly.
“You have no objections from me,” I replied coyly. The dress was making me feel a little vixen-like tonight. I let go of his hand, and slipped my arm through his, pulling at him gently so that when we approached the bouncers I was pretending to whisper something into his ear, although whispering at that point would have been pointless against the resonating house music echoing off the enclosed hallway. He blushed appropriately and I finished the act by bravely nibbling on his ear lobe.
“Gentlemen,” Jericho purred suavely, reaching into his suit jacket and removing an elegant invitation with the royal seal stamped on the front. The invitation had been stolen earlier in the week by Titus, Xander and Xavier when they thought they were the only ones left of the rebellion. At that point, explosives were definitely involved.
The bouncers inspected the invitation and then the two of us. Thuggish, burly and robust Titans, they wore menacing looks that sent a shiver down my back. I smiled constantly at them, my face feeling like it was turning to plaster, and leaning in to Jericho so that I was almost hiding behind him.
The two bouncers talked back and forth in hushed, fast tones and then one of them walked back inside of the club. We stood their awkwardly staring at the remaining bouncer while a line of other party-goers formed behind us.
The second bouncer returned after a few minutes and motioned for us to enter. We handed him our make-shift gifts and then walked past them into the crowded club. The electricity in my blood ignited in a lightning storm of warning as soon as we were past the guards. They recognized me, or us, or both of us; that much was clear.
Inside the club were hundreds of Immortals pressed together on a dance floor that took up the entire room, except for a bar and small seating area towards the back of the club. We walked in on a balcony overlooking the party, and as we mosied down the stairs, we watched the Titans move into place. They moved discreetly to block all of the exits, surrounding the room with tight security and sending Jericho and I a clear message that we were caught.