Chapter Three
The driving rhythm of the bass vibrated the walls of Elixir and the music spilled out into the street. The doormen seemed oblivious as one checked IDs while the other collected the five dollar cover charge. Jordan shivered as he waited in line. No doubt the others—Matt, Jessica, and Parker—were already inside, drinking without him. As the line moved slowly, he huddled deeper into his coat. A few passers-by stared at him, obviously finding great amusement in his predicament. At sixty degrees and only a slight breeze, most were not greatly affected by the chill night air. Jordan, however, felt like he was going to freeze to death.
As his turn at the door finally came, Jordan pulled out his wallet. He handed the first man the small, government-issued card and held the man's dubious gaze. Jordan knew he looked young—nineteen or so by mortal years. Then the man looked down at the card. Jordan forced his expression to remain neutral when all he wanted to do was laugh.
"Go on," the man said, handing the card back to Jordan by pinching it between his thumb and index finger. The gesture reminded Jordan that, despite the government's recognition of elves, there were those who did not feel the same, or at the least, simply didn't know what to think at all. Judging by the man's reaction, Jordan figured the doorman was of the former mindset.
After paying the cover, Jordan walked into the club and was immediately assaulted by the thunderous music. He scanned the dark room, searching through the mass of black-clad bodies for Matt and the others. Nearly every surface in the club was painted black. Steel bars acted as footrests along the bottom of each of the three bars, and steel catwalks lined the walls and ceiling. A steel staircase led up to the second level and there, people leaned over the rails and danced along the catwalks. Jordan marveled at the ability of the general drunk populace of the place; he was constantly waiting for someone to fall. The only lights in the entire club were one of two fluorescent colors: blue or purple.
On the stage, a gothic band Jordan had never seen before was playing to a crowd of yelling, moshing, and near-fucking people. Jordan was amazed that clothing wasn't optional, as many wore very little at all. Just as he had nearly given up, Jordan spotted Matt sitting at a table near the bar. Beside Matt, a head full of fire engine red curls rose and a ruby smile greeted Jordan. He started for the table, looking for Parker.
"Parker's here," Jessica shouted over the music. "Somewhere. I think he went looking for you."
Jordan nodded and twisted the chair around to straddle it. "How long have you all been here?"
"About twenty minutes," Matt said as he leaned over to give Jordan a kiss. "Glad you could make it. Wanna dance?"
Jordan grinned and stood, pulling Matt up with him. "Anytime."
He squeezed through the crowd on the black lacquered dancer floor. When he found a small opening, he turned around and pulled Matt close. The pulse of the music settled deep inside him as they began to dance, moving their bodies together in a rhythm that left nothing to the imagination. Jordan gasped and bit his bottom lip as Matt's body grazed across his own. Then he felt another body behind him and an arm slid around his waist. Thinking it was Parker, since the arm was definitely a man's, Jordan simply leaned back.
He rocked his body in time to the hard rhythm of the music and quickly found himself sandwiched between Matt and Parker. He opened to Matt's sudden kiss, moaning as their tongues met. When he felt his hair brush away from his neck, Jordan reached back with one hand and pulled Parker's head to his throat. Parker knew how sensitive the nape of his neck was, and as Matt's kiss turned more heated and insistent, Parker's kisses on Jordan's neck mirrored them. A soft tongue flicked across his skin, followed by the slightest nip. Jordan shuddered hard and groaned as both men caught him between their bodies. Then Parker began to move away. Jordan's protest died out in Matt's kiss.
"Your taste is unique, one that I cannot forget."
Jordan felt every inch of his flesh ripple. That voice did not belong to Parker. He pulled away from Matt's mouth and spun around, but there was no one there, only the others dancing around them. He looked back to Matt.
"Who the fuck was that?"
Matt pulled him close again and resumed their dance, despite Jordan's slight resistance. "Dorian Baptiste," he said. "Owner of Elixir."
Jordan remained silent and finally pulled away from Matt altogether. "I need a drink."
Matt shrugged and took Jordan's hand, pulling him out of the crowd and towards the bar. The bar area was no less crowded than the dance floor and it took several minutes before Jordan was able to get close enough to even order. Just as he opened his mouth to tell the bartender what he wanted, the words completely escaped him. In a doorway behind the bar, leaning against the doorframe, was a tall man with long chestnut hair. Pale blue eyes stared back at Jordan and another chill ran through him. He tore his gaze away from the man and looked back to the bartender.
"Rum and coke," he said. When the bartender turned away once more, Jordan looked back towards the doorway. The man was gone. Jordan's drink was set in front of him then, but as he started to count out the money to pay, the bartender shook his head.
"On the house," he shouted over the noise. He turned away before Jordan had a chance to ask anything more.
Jordan looked around and giving up on finding the man again, he took a sip of his drink and turned to squeeze back through the crowd. As soon as he made it back to the table, he sat down and drank half of his rum and coke in one swallow. As he set the cup down on the table, he met Matt's steady gaze. Jessica and Parker were nowhere in sight.
"Where did the others go?"
Matt grinned. "Parker's in town for the weekend. Where do you think?"
Jordan laughed and shook his head. "That explains things."
"You okay?"
He looked back up at Matt. "Yeah, just a bit weirded out, I guess. I thought that guy was Parker."
"Dorian likes to do that," Matt said with a shrug. "He likes to check out the new faces personally."
"How do you know so much about him?"
"Hearsay. I've been here before, remember?"
Jordan nodded and looked back out at the crowd. That's when he saw him again. Caught between a woman in front of him and a man behind him, Dorian Baptiste danced. One arm was tight around the woman's waist, holding her body close to his. Jordan's mouth ran dry as he watched every sinuous move the owner made, the glide of muscles beneath smooth skin tantalizing him. Dorian's black silk shirt shimmered in the purple and blue lights, and his black leather pants hugged every graceful curve of his body from the waist down. His hair was damp with sweat and his eyes were closed, but Jordan could still feel that blue stare settling somewhere deep inside him.
