The One Awakened: Book 1 in The One Trilogy (12 page)

I can feel Sebastian assessing me as I let go to the infectious beat filling the bar. The small dance area is situated in a more segregated part of the bar and apart from the odd flickering light; the ambience is much moodier, enabling you to lose your inhibitions. Throwing cheeky glances in his direction as I relax and bump and grind jokily with Abby, I can see that Nathan, Chris and Sebastian are conversing, whilst staring at us intently. They make a handsome group but I am solely drawn to Sebastian as though he were the only person in the room. Our eyes connect, and smiling bashfully at him, I flick my hair forward, across one shoulder and revel in the freedom of the beat. At this distance I can let go and flirt confidently, face-to-face was a totally different story.
I shamelessly and purposely wiggle and slink in all the right places. I’ve enjoyed far too much of Monsieur Laurent Perrier. Abby giggles as she mimics my moves and I notice that Nathan appears as intent on her as his brother is on me - the Silver brothers seem bewitched. How sublime!
Several tunes later, thirsty but happy, we hug each other in our mutually tired but exuberant manner and head back to the group, who are now running on empty. Looking around I can see that the bar is beginning to empty as punters start to trickle out. I down the remnants of my glass and nip to the ladies to freshen up. Upon my return to the gang, I’m just contemplating making a move to go (I’ve got total head fuck where Seb is concerned) when I’m blindsided as I watch an extremely merry Meg, launch herself at him, full throttle, linking her arms around his neck and puckering up for a kiss. She really is thoroughly slaughtered.
“Why haven’t you and I met before Seb…ashchun? I truly believe that our Lucy lady has been hiding you away. Naughty Lulu! Naughty girl!” Looking in my direction Meg wags her finger at me, in a wobbly fashion. She really is wrecked. I may be wishing it but I’m sure I see Seb push away a little from her cloying embrace.
 
Didn’t she just say something similar to Suzie about Chris?
“I don’t know Meg but I’m glad we have now,” he drawls.
Oh jeez don’t encourage her!
This is all the motivation she needs. She grabs his hand and, as we all ready ourselves to leave, she hangs on to him for dear life and he doesn’t appear to mind.
 

The night air is crisp as we walk to our cabs, even though it’s probably still about twenty degrees. Lords City is lit up like a New York skyline; all full of promise and excitement but it isn’t quite the city that never sleeps and the chaos is definitively at a much slower pace as we wander through the streets; it’s rowdy drunkards having fun surround us, many of whom are actually from our party. My head feels a bit wobbly and I wish I’d eaten earlier. I link arms with my sister & Jess and we warble our way through several verses of
Ego
by
The Saturday’s
, aiming it directly at the men ahead of us.
What a fabulous night – it had been just what I needed after a busy week but what I would do now to go home and jump Sebastian Silver’s bones - shame I’d not plucked up the courage to ask him to take me home and fuck me sideways into the middle of next week!

“Bye guys!” I shout to Suzie and Gino, who are in the process of exploring one another’s tonsils in the queue. They are very much in love and I’m lustfully envious.
 

“Get a room!”
 

Laughing to myself I join Meg and Jess in the back of the taxi. I presume Abby and Nathan are hitching a ride with my Sis and that Chris and Seb will do their own thing when that thought is thrown out the window as the front door is flung open and the man himself casually climbs into the empty front seat.
“Ladies - you’re ok to drop me off at mine after, yeah?”
 

His sexy scent fills the small space, male pheromones bubbling around and turning all females within a five-mile radius wanton and pathetic - me included.
“No problemo Mr. Gorgeous!” Meg lunges forward from her central perch and drunkenly strokes his shoulder.
I sit back and tight-lipped, stare at the back of Seb’s head, boring holes into it with narrowed emerald eyes, determined not to succumb to jealousy - I’m not sure how much longer I can watch though - Meg has spent most of the night pawing him and thrusting her own ample breasts into his face.
 

If it had been any other man I’d have been pleased for her, but Sebastian was
different
. He was…
what
? What was he to me? Not my boyfriend or even a potential boyfriend. I couldn’t describe my territorial right to him, he was just…
more mine than hers
. The problem is, I couldn’t tell her to back off, as it wasn’t like we had anything going on. Not yet anyway. Plus she didn’t know about my proposed proposition yet so it wasn’t like she was making a play for what was mine.

But that’s exactly what’s she’s doing and I fucking hate it.

I had no right to tell either of them who they could and couldn’t flirt with. I squinted my now glowing green eyes in annoyance. It was
all,
his
fault; he looked and smelt
too good
and was obviously doing it on purpose to mess with my head.

As the cab pulls into our street, I have already determined that Seb and Meg are in fact about to ravish one another back at her house and do the dirty. I feel nauseous just at the thought of it and really pissed off. Odd, as I’d spent years trying to set Sebastian up with friends of mine, whilst I was with Niall.
How could I have been so unaffected by the thought of him with someone else?

Pulling up at our first destination, we begin to pile out and Seb, the gentleman that he is, offers to pay the driver.
 

“Night Sebastian. Thanks,” I throw out, desperate to get away from him and my mate and their obvious building sexual tension.
 

“Night girls, see you in the morning.”
 

Smiling, I wave, as I notice that they make their way to their own respective doors, Meg at Number 45 and Jess around the corner on Horton Street.
I don’t look back and presume that Sebastian has followed his next conquest or set off home in the cab. God that man was a disgrace; It appeared he’d bobbed-on with anyone and everyone… but me – I’m not sure which annoyed me more, the fact he was a man-whore, or that I wasn’t one of his conquests.
Unfortunately I fear it’s the latter.
My inner reasoning annoyingly reminds me that as he is single, Sebastian was well within his rights to fuck whomever he pleased.
And unless you can find a backbone, some seriously big hairy bollocks and proposition him Darling, he is going to continue to fuck whomever he pleases!

Angrily rummaging around, I finally find my keys, in the bottom of my metallic sequined handbag - covered in make-up. Fumbling I manage to open the door, muttering to myself, when I suddenly sense I’m not alone and cast in shadow.
“I’ll come in for a drink if that’s ok Chick; it’s far too early to go home yet.”
Surprised, I jump and literally fall through the door, as my brain and body wrestle to work, together. The rubbing the tummy, whilst patting the head manoeuvre comes to mind, as I try to propel myself forward and extract the keys from the door at the same time. I can’t even muster a response, as I kick my shoes off and flick the light on, swaying slightly and instantly regretting the
big light
syndrome. I hastily twist the dimmer, adjusting it to a softer, more forgiving radiance and relax a little.
“Yeah. Sure. Help yourself, I’ll just go change into something more casual.”
What the fuck?
 

For God’s sake, get a grip girl he is just doing what he’s done a million times, over the years. Stop acting like this is any different.
 

I am annoyed with myself that I am smug in the knowledge that at least, if Seb is at my house, that means he is not doing the dirty with my neighbour. Heading upstairs, I take my make-up off quickly and cleanse and tone my already rapidly dehydrating skin. I was under no illusions that Sebastian saw me any differently than normal but without my war paint, it meant I wouldn’t hope or try. I am suddenly very tired.

Slipping out of my
killer outfit
and into my nightie and pink fluffy marabou slippers I assess my appearance - maybe I should have left my dress on but I’m shattered and the gown is still sexy; after all, I still had my womanly pride, even if she is rather tipsy right now. Scrunching my hair up and giving it a good shake, I check myself in the mirror. Good - just got out of bed look, tick; sexy - but not too desperate look, tick. Hopefully the fact that I’m already dressed for bed will make Seb leave for home sooner. I had actually hoped that I could come home, order a disgustingly guilt-free greasy pizza, to soak up the booze and drown my sorrows and put my favourite PJ’s on; then indulge without anyone watching.

“Lu, you’re ok if I just crash here aren’t you tonight?”
 

Seb peers around the bedroom door and leans against the oak doorframe, his gorgeous face crumpling in an adorable plea. I hadn’t heard him come up the stairs? I thought he wanted another drink? Shit I hope he hadn’t been there long.
“Er, yeah, yeah, I suppose so.” I stutter and suddenly feel rather naked. Why hadn’t I put my dressing gown on?

“I’m just knackered and can’t be bothered ordering another Joe Baxi,” he continues and moves towards me and I step back until I hit the wardrobe. Feeling stupid, as I realise he was just heading towards the bed, I watch, silently, as he removes one boot, then the other and begins to take his top off. I cannot seem to look elsewhere. I am immobilised, as I sneak a peak at the hair, which lightly covers his chest. I think I may actually be blushing; either that, or the heating had kicked in big time.
Why is he undressing in here?
I think his close proximity is affecting my body temperature - something that surprises me, as I have seen him shirtless before and managed not to become a dry-mouthed, goggling moron.
That was before you woke up and smelt the companion from heaven!

“I noticed you’ve not got a guest bed, anymore, the other night, when I looked in on Finn. If it’s ok with you, I’d rather not wake up to the Toy Story montage tomorrow? I’ll just share with you. Or the sofa’s fine too if you prefer?”
 

He is so casual that I conclude that in his mind there is nothing weird about sharing a bed with a mate. As he stares at me intently, awaiting my approval, I feel like I’m being pushed into a corner, yet at the same time, he seems so relaxed and unperturbed, I realise that this
moment
doesn’t seem to be affecting him in the same way as me. I feel a little foolish to be honest.

I hear myself reply more calmly than I feel. “The bed’s fine, you daft thing, it’s a king size. We probably won’t even know the other is there.”
 

Ha like that is bloody likely!
 

I leave him throwing the many cushions onto the floor muttering to himself, under his breath.
 

“Women and cushions - I’ll never get it!”
 

As I clean my teeth in the bathroom, I can hear him moving around in the bedroom. My scalp prickles with a mixture of expectation and fear. I decide to harden myself to it all and just try to treat it, as any other time Seb had stayed. The problem was we’d only ever stayed under the same roof a few times and each one had been in separate rooms and separate beds. Even at University we’d never shared a bed, maybe some floor space in our student accommodation but never a mattress. I really need to get a grip and ignoring my heavily beating heart, and clammy palms I enter my room. The only glow emanating from it is from the fairy lights strewn across the headboard. The effect is very cosy and I instantly rue the day I hung them.

“Right I only have three rules. I get the left side. No socks in bed and no duvet hogging.”
 

I climb into bed and automatically pull the cover up to cocoon my body. Any extra layers will hopefully stop me feeling so vulnerable.

“Alright Boss,” Seb smiles sexily and slides, under the bedding. I’m so glad I changed the bed this morning. The sheets are fresh and plumpfy and feel luxurious under my touch.

I’d only managed a brief glimpse of his amazingly buff body in black fitted boxers, as he’d climbed into the bed, and sprawled on his stomach. Now my eyes are drawn to the large bold black scripted font that curls across his back, between his shoulder blades. It spells out
Nuno est tempus
and adds a rakish edge to his classic good looks.
Nuno est tempus
- I think that means
now is the time?
My Latin was seriously rusty from Grammar School, so I might be way of the mark here but we’d done a huge project on the design course using Latin wording in our second year and I’m pretty sure this motto, rang a bell. It made me want to reach out and trace the letters, raised in their darkened ink, feel his skin under my fingertips. I clench my fingers into a fist to stop myself. He has another tattoo of rose, with a cherub on his arm and more script wording. His tattooist was seriously good. It looked very romantic and a true work of art in black and grays, with fabulous shading; my mouth waters.
Could he get any more delicious?