Warrior Fae Trapped (Warrior Fae #1)(9)

“I know.” He closed the door, and his dark eyes lingered on Charity. “This isn’t my house. I am but the greeter. Did you find us okay?” He waved them forward.

“Oh.” A small frown bent Sam’s features as the group crossed the grand entranceway and started down a wide hallway decked out in wood and marble, with vaulted ceilings and interesting abstract paintings adorning the light gray walls. “We did, yes.”

Off to the left, a sitting room opened up. A woman stood in the center, wearing a long leather duster over a ribbed black and red lacy corset. Tight leather pants tucked into leather boots with four-inch stilettos. Her outfit was as sexy as it was strange, and she looked like an absolute badass, even though she wouldn’t be running very fast in those shoes. Then again, given Charity was teetering around like a clown on stilts, she wouldn’t go very fast, either. If the zombie apocalypse happened later on, they were sunk.

The woman’s head turned slowly from the window she’d been focused on, revealing an angelic face with flawless, radiant skin not unlike that of their still-unnamed greeter. The woman’s smile didn’t reach her eyes.

“Welcome,” she said in a sultry, feminine hum. Tingles of apprehension filtered through Charity. There was something familiar about her tone. The pleasing quality of the word.

Charity shivered. Murmurs drifted out of a room up the way, and light spilled across the shiny hardwood floor.

“Follow me,” the man said, before darting around them, his movements faster than they should’ve been, considering his previous pace. More shivers arrested Charity as her mind flashed back to the man she’d noticed at school the previous night. His speed. His fighter’s grace and balance.

“What is wrong with you?” Samantha said out of the side of her mouth. “Stop rubbing yourself. It’s not cold in here.”

Charity took her hands off her arms as the man turned the corner into a large dining room with a crystal chandelier hanging over a dark wood table that could comfortably seat at least twelve. China and crystal peeked out of cabinets against the wall, and a leafy plant on a pedestal in the corner gave the space a comforting splash of green.

The room was empty, but she could hear the hum of conversation. The other guests were nearby.

“It feels a little…” Charity paused when the man looked back, that focused gaze clamming her up. For some reason, she didn’t want him to know she thought the environment felt…off.

Dangerous.

Or was that Devon guy in her head? She had excellent instincts, but she had to be able to listen to them.

“Why was that woman standing in that room by herself?” Charity asked as they crossed the space.

“She is making sure no unwanted…guests attempt to sneak in,” the man said, pausing by a closed door.

Sam nodded, as if it were perfectly normal for a woman to stand sentinel in the middle of a dim room, staring out a window at the side yard in case party crashers planned to traipse in through the bushes.

Charity couldn’t help but grip Sam’s wrist, the urge to turn back and run strengthening. Sam swore under her breath when she shook her off, then said, “Don’t make me regret bringing you.”

“I already regret you bringing me.”

They stepped just beyond the door and into a large kitchen awash with light and littered with pretty and trendy people holding what looked like shimmering crystal goblets. All maintained artfully bored expressions despite the price of the drinkware in their hands.

“Enjoy.” The man turned and moved off in the direction they’d come, apparently off to greet more partiers.

“Why use the door knocker if someone has to stand close by to hear it?” Charity asked.

“He’s welcoming the guests, hello? Did you see his suit? It was top quality and tailored. It must’ve cost a fortune.”

Charity hadn’t even noticed he was wearing a suit. She’d been too distracted by his hungry gaze. Every time she’d glanced at him, his eyes had been on her.

Serial killers didn’t congregate together at parties, did they? They were more lone-wolf types?

Though even if they did, it wouldn’t be the best move to target wealthy kids for a massacre. Their parents would hire the best lawyers, and the press and public interest would ensure the cops stayed on the job and found the killers.

She shook her head. Sam was probably right about that guy Devon. Hot guys played girls for sport. What could possibly be dangerous about this setup?

And yet…

“If anyone says anything about a basement, I’m out,” Charity murmured.

“He was my age, too. I wonder if he’s single,” Sam whispered, running her lip through her blindingly white teeth. Her line of thinking had clearly gone a completely different direction.

“I think you should aim higher than the door-knocker guy. He wouldn’t be much fun to hang around with, standing in the front, staring at the door, waiting for someone new to come knocking…”

“God you’re weird. This is why you get A’s in creative writing.”

“I get A’s in creative writing because I do my homework and study for tests.”

“That too. Hmm.” Sam tossed her hair before slinking down into a sexy pose, pushing out her breasts and jutting her hip to the side. “Look at all the hotties.”