Free Evermore, an Arotas Novella (The Arotas Series) by Amy Miles Page A

was
home to Nicolae as a boy. He should know the ins and outs of this
city. Sadie, having never actually spent any time here, seems rather
taken with the old-world charm when seen up close.
    “People
are staring,” Gabriel muses and naturally draws Roseline closer
into his side. She casts a guarded glance toward a couple standing on
the opposite side of the road. They appear to be in their
mid-thirties. Probably out having a nice dinner and a movie while the
babysitter stays home with the kids. Roseline notes the small mustard
stain on the hem of the woman’s blouse and the small wrinkled
patch beside it that gives evidence to a small hand clutched there
recently.
    Their
gaze is not unkind, nor it is filled with fear. “They’re
probably wondering where our parents are.” She laughs and tugs
him on.
    “Do
you think anyone will recognize you tonight?” She can hear the
note of concern in his voice over the clacking of her heels against
the uneven cobblestone path.
    Even
with her hair piled high on her head, falling in ringlets about her
face, she still feels hot and clammy. Perhaps
leather wasn’t the best choice after all ,
she muses.
    “No,”
she replies, refocusing her thoughts as they round another corner and
disappear into shadows. Glancing overhead, Roseline realizes the
lamplight has been shattered. Hard to tell if it was an act of
vandalism or not. “Not in the club at least.”
    But
even as the words cross her lips she knows that she will always be
wary. Three hundred years of fear and accusations are hard to forget.

NINE

    Roseline
has always wondered how the owners of Pandemic chose
the nightclub’s name. Were they thinking of some sort of plague
or widespread fear at the time? Seems an odd choice, yet none of the
club goers seem to pay the neon sign hanging over the door any mind
as they pay their entrance fee and join the writhing masses within.
    The
line winds down the block and around the corner, but one whispered
request from Roseline, partnered with a heavy dose of hormones, gives
the bouncer just enough incentive to allow them to jump straight to
the head of the line. Gabriel smirks as she giggles and retracts her
hand from the bouncer’s arm. He sways, slightly dazed, as she
walks past him to rejoin the group. “Show off,” he growls
in her ear, pulling her close.
    “I
have my ways,” she responds coyly.
    His
fingers dig into her waist, pulling her back into his chest as he
whispers in her ear. “When we get home, I expect to get a
private viewing of those wicked ways.”
    Roseline
laughs and allows herself to be led into the club. If she thought it
was hot outside, the interior is far worse. She can actually see
steam rising off of the horde of bodies on the dance floor, like
clouds of dry ice filtering through the air.
    Unlike Torrent, this bar’s cages are filled with dancing girls in skintight
sequined dresses that leave little to the imagination, instead of
blood slaves. The music is just as loud and obnoxious, but the feel
is completely different.
    Roseline
has been to her fair share of clubs in her past. Most of them were
dark with a tinge of danger on the air. Skimpy dresses were replaced
with men and woman draped in black. Corsets replaced halters and the
scent of leather was common, if not expected.
    No
one wore jeans and torn T-shirts to those clubs. Of course, most of
those clubs housed many of the underbelly of the immortal world
without humans being any the wiser. The love of all things gothic is
merely a given.
    In
this place, she can smell the strong odor of hops on the air instead
of O-negative blood. The bathroom door she passes smells strongly of
urine and vomit, scents lingering just under the eye-burning doses of
bleach used nightly to mop away the filth.
    For
the most part, the club lies in darkness. The shadows are especially
darkest in the balcony overhead, roped off by plush red single-loop
barriers attached to two golden stands and a bouncer who looks like
he has