Crimson Midnight (A New Adult Dark Urban Fantasy Series) (The Crimson Series Book 1) (5 page)

They were interrupted by the sound
of male voices and laughter drifting in from the hall, outside the front door.
And then a key was placed into the lock.

Erin let out a squeal. “Roman’s
home!” His sour mood was replaced by a smile as he ran into the kitchen then
back out into the hall.

Flo stopped what she was doing.
“Come meet them.” She took Rose’s hand and they joined Erin in the hallway. “In
the living room,” Flo said. “It’ll get crowded out here.”

The front door opened and the
voices became clear, the baritones louder. A man with golden blonde hair came
into the living room first. His face was chiselled with a slight tan– the
ultimate surfer or sexy beach-bum look.

“Roman!” Erin yelled and leapt off
of the sofa.

“Erin, my boy!” Roman scooped up Erin up and swung him around. “You missed me, little bro?”

“Nah,” Erin shrugged, playing it
cool.

“What do you mean nah? I’ll give
you nah!” Roman threw Erin on the sofa and proceeded to wrestle with him.

“Kids, eh?” said a huge muscled
man, approaching Flo with open arms.

“Hello, Harold, luv.” Flo gave him
a kiss on the cheek. “This is my god daughter Rose.”

Harold extended a hand. “Nice to
meet you, Rose. I’m Harold.”

Rose shook his hand, looking up
into his eyes. “You too.” She felt a shudder pass through her at the feel of
his skin against hers, a prickling on the back of her neck. She dropped his
hand abruptly and took a step back. The sensation was gone. Harold moved
further into the house and Rose began to wonder if she had imagined the strange
feeling. 

A guy with long blonde hair that
swept across his face came in, followed by an impeccably dressed man with
chestnut hair.  Flo hugged and kissed them both then turned to introduce them
to Rose. “Kris and Damon, this is Rose.”

“Hi.” Kris, the blonde shook her
hand.

“A pleasure.” Damon went one-step
further and kissed it.

“Ark at him and his niceties.” Flo
laughed, and then turned to address a tall and very handsome man with
blue-black hair who had come in last. “Hello, Raven.” She graced him with her
warmest smile yet.

He was smiling with equal warmth
and embraced Flo, her stout frame almost lost in his arms. The hug ended and
Flo turned to introduce him to Rose. “This is Rose.”

Was that a hint of pride in her
tone?

“Nice to meet you, Rose.” Raven’s
tone was pleasant and polite. Looking up into his silver eyes she found herself
taking an instant liking to the man.

“How was your Saturday?” He sounded
genuinely interested.

“It was very nice thanks. London is pretty amazing.”

“It’s a wonderful city.” He agreed.
“You’ll really enjoy it here. We’ll have to take you to some places we haunt.”
He gave her a friendly wink.

“That’d be cool.”

“I’m so rude.” Roman insinuated
himself between the two. “Let me introduce myself.”

The big guy, Harold, snorted.

“Hello.” Roman’s eyes travelled
from her head to her toes then back up again. “I’m your new house mate.”

“Yeah, I gathered.”  She stood her
ground even though he was in her personal space.  She was not one to back down
and after a moment he gave her a lopsided smile and stepped back. This might
just turn out to be interesting.

“Roman,” Flo said, “you can set the
table. Excuse me, I’m gonna get back to me masterpiece. Put some music on or
something. Mind me ashtrays.” Flo jabbed a finger to a cabinet filled with an
array of ashtrays in all shapes, sizes, colours and designs.

“Her collection,” Kris said.

“I never noticed.” Rose moved over
to the cabinet to get a closer look.

Kris joined her. “There’s one from
various seaside locations. Collecting from each seaside town in the country is
her latest mission.”

“That’s quite a mission.”

“She’s halfway there.”

When dinner was ready, they all
moved into the dining room. Roman sat opposite Rose, as did Harold. Damon sat
next to her on her left and Kris on her right. There was an empty seat next to
Kris. Raven sat at the head of the table at one end, and Flo at the other end.
A delicious looking Shepherd’s Pie sat on their plates. Roman and his friends’
portions were huge in comparison to hers, Flo’s and Erin’s. She could see what
Flo had meant about bottomless pits!

Erin took his plate on a tray and
headed to the living room, excited to be allowed to watch TV and eat at the
same time.  Flo assured Rose it was a rare treat.  “Conversation can get a
little adult with the boys around,” she explained, “best not to have little
ears flapping.” With the little man safely ensconced in front of the TV, Flo
clapped her hands together, her eyes sparkling with warmth. “Dig in everyone.”

There were a few seconds of silence
as everyone took their first mouthful.

Rose finished her first bite. “That
is pure heaven.”

“Thanks, darling,” Flo said.

“Really good, mum.” Roman added
through a mouthful of potatoes.

“Oi, Roman, maybe you should take
some cookery lessons from your mum,” Harold said.

“And maybe you should take a loofah
to that fake tan, you’re beginning to look like you’ve been tango’d,” Roman
retorted.

There was a snort from her left,
which was quickly masked as a cough.

Harold bristled, his shoulders
visibly tensing under the material of his T-shirt.

“Enough. Now eat,” Raven said. 

Harold relaxed slowly then nodded,
stuffing another fork-full of food into his mouth.

Roman shot Harold a wicked grin,
then resumed eating his meal.

“Thank you, luv.” Flo gave Raven a
grateful look

Well that was interesting. There
was an air of command about Raven– she had noticed it as soon as he had entered
the room.  And now, when he had told them to stop fooling around and eat, they
had obliged without question.  Raven seemed to be the leader of this particular
posse.  She glanced around the table, surreptitiously studying the five males
from beneath her lashes.  The chestnut guy, Damon, pretty snappy dresser, was probably
gay and really rich. And blondie, the other side of her, looked like he should
be in an amateur boy band. Roman was the cliché surfer dude, well, if they were
in a place where surfing was commonplace, and from what she had seen and heard
he was the shit stirrer of the group.

Which left Raven and Harold.

 It was obvious from the way Harold
had backed down at Raven’s command that Raven was in charge, but Harold didn’t
seem too happy about that. There was something about the way his eyes had
blazed just for a moment before he had regained his composure, like a well-trained
veil had descended, masking true emotions. 

His eyes locked on hers, noting her
perusal, his nostrils flared. She quickly averted her gaze back to her plate,
feeling slightly uneasy. Was it her imagination or had that look been slightly
hostile?

“Rose?” Raven said. “Are you
looking forward to starting your new job at the gym? Flo told us all about it.”

Grateful for the diversion she
focused her attention on Raven. “I’m really excited about it. The whole thing
just seems so cool, working in Soho, being a part of it all.”  Even though she
was doing her best not to look in Harold’s direction, she could feel his eyes
on her like two hot pebbles.

“It’s the gym of the moment.” Roman
quoted the gym’s slogan, making bunny rabbit ears in the air with his fingers.

“Have you been?” Rose asked.  She
risked a quick glance in Harold’s direction to find his gaze now on Roman.

“Nah, just what I’ve heard.” He
shrugged.  “I’m not the endorphin junkie round here,” he said wryly, glancing
in Harold’s direction.  They locked eyes for a moment then, inhaling slowly,
Harold sat back, running his tongue over his gums.

“I popped my head in to have a
look,” Harold said. “Seems like a nice place. You working in reception?”

“Rose is teaching the self-defence
class,” Flo said.  She smiled proudly.

Raven glanced up at her
appraisingly and Roman looked impressed.  Harold frowned, looking her up and
down. 

“Seriously?” he asked. 

Rose shrugged. “Hey, I may be small
but it’s not all about size you know.”

“Yeah, Harold, that’s what I’ve
been trying to tell you.  Size doesn’t matter.” Roman smirked slyly.

Harold pointedly ignored him.

Flo finished her mouthful and wiped
her lips with a napkin. “Our Raven here is a genius. Twenty-one and coming to
the end of his PHD in Psychology. And he’s a part-time lecturer too.” She
looked like a proud mother hen.

“Wow.” It was Rose’s turn to look
impressed. “Which university?”

Raven took a sip of his water. “At the
University of Science London– it’s a relatively new university so still
malleable, the lecturers and staff get a lot of say on policy and the likes.
I’m quite enjoying it.”

“Dunno how you do it, mate, all
those books, the stuffy lecture theatres and having to keep on top of all those
new theories and stuff.” Roman shook his head, holding up his hands. 

Raven chuckled.

“So you prefer picking up a wrench
and tinkering, huh?  You any good?” Rose asked.

Roman winked “Believe me, honey, I
can make anything purr when I get out my tools.” His eyes were hot brands on
her face. 

Rose felt a warm flush creeping up
her neck. 

“Roman!” Flo was blushing with
embarrassment. 

There was a lull in the
conversation during which the only sound was the one of forks and knives
scraping against ceramic.

“So, Damon, are you looking forward
to the auction next week?” Kris asked politely, more in the spirit of getting
the conversation going than any genuine curiosity.  Damon, no fool to the ploy,
none the less responded authentically. “Actually I am. There are a few pieces
I’ve had my eye on for some time.” He set down his cutlery.  “A wonderful piece
by Tracey Emin has really caught my eye.”

Harold snorted. “Who? Bloody Art!
It’s a load of bollocks!” He scowled.

“Yes, well an ignoramus such as
yourself would be of that opinion.” Damon replied primly. 

“Really? And what about the bloke
who put a piece of his own shit in a can and called it art and the bloody art
community agreed with him?” Harold looked disgusted.  “If that’s what art is
coming to, I don’t want anything to do with it.”

“Um, actually, Damon, I’d be
interested to know the answer to that myself.” Roman folded his arms across his
chest.

Damon looked momentarily thrown but
recovered quickly putting on a haughty expression. “It is only crap to those
who do not have the capacity to tap into their creative conscious, to see
things beyond the black and white.”

Roman looked sceptical. “Right, if
you say so.”

“I can’t stand all that artsy
fartsy stuff, I can think of a hundred better ways to spend my time and money.”
Harold still looked unimpressed.

“Like pumping iron and spraying on
fake tan? That’s very deep,” Damon said.

“Yeah, well the gym isn’t a waste
of time. It actually has a point to it.”

Damon just shook his head.

“You have to admit it.” Roman
rocked back on his chair a little. “Ninety percent of art is just shit.”

“You are both so closed-minded.”
Damon looked at them pityingly.

“We’re entitled to an opinion,”
Roman said.

Harold nodded in agreement.

“And that’s the end of it is it?”
Rose asked. “You think its crap so that’s what it is?”

Roman shrugged his shoulders.

“Too right,” Harold said.

Rose turned to Damon.
“Definitely
close-minded.”

“Ever heard of a band called Funk
This?” Kris asked.

“Sorry?” Rose frowned, thrown by
the turn in topic.

Roman sighed rolling his eyes. “How
many times do we have to tell you that no one ever has?”

Rose pointedly ignored Roman. “No,
I just didn’t quite catch what you said.”

“Have you ever heard of a band
called Funk This?” Kris repeated patiently.

Rose nodded. “Yeah, actually I
have.” Her eyes were on Roman. “I saw them play in a club up in Derby once. They’re very cool. Should be bigger than they are. They deserve more
recognition.”

“They’re just ripping off Prince,”
Harold said.

“Prince is their inspiration. They
have their own sound.” Kris argued.

“Yeah right, how long before they
become The Band Formerly Known As Funk This?” Harold sniggered at his own joke.

Roman laughed, choking on his coke.
Harold generously patted him on the back.

Rose gave Harold a glance over of
her own. “How many times am I gonna have to see you wearing a T-shirt which is
clearly too small for you?”

Roman laughed harder spluttering,
Harold didn’t bother to help clear his airways again.

Kris pointedly ignored Roman and
Harold, training his soft blue gaze on her. “Funk This are playing at a place
called The Whisper next week. You should come. It’s kinda our hang out.”

“I’d love to,” Rose said, touched
by the offer, the first hand of friendship.

“Really?” Kris sat up straighter,
unable to hide his excitement.

“Easy, tiger,” Roman said.

Kris blushed bright red. “Shut up!”

Rose felt a pang of protectiveness
for this seemingly quiet, shy guy.

“Yes, Roman, why don’t you zip it?”
She snapped, unable to hide her annoyance.

“Just kidding.” Roman held up his
hands in mock surrender. “But you’d better watch out.” He leant forward,
widening his emerald eyes for effect. “Kris can be like a puppy, give him a
treat and he’ll be following you around begging for more.”

Harold snorted into his coke.

Kris looked as if he wanted the
floor to open up and swallow him.

Rose gave Roman a hard look. “I
happen to like puppies.”