Savor (2 page)

indicated with my gaze. “Which guy?”

“The blond one seated in that circular booth at the corner.”

Still not seeing who Silvia meant, I lifted my camera and used the zoom function. In a rare

moment, the crowd between the bar and the dance floor parted and I caught sight of the

booth Silvia meant. At one end sat a girl in a Gothic Lolita costume. I’d covered cosplay

events on campus, so I knew what all the lace and ribbons meant. Her long, fair hair was

parted into two pigtails, curling at the sides of her head. What would a Loli Girl be doing in a club like Sacrifice? She sat on the lap of a guy with black hair sticking out in messy spikes. He had a silver hoop between his nostrils and several other piercings going up his ears. He

leaned in and whispered something to the girl and she giggled, slapping him on the chest. I

still hadn’t seen the guy Silvia indicated until I panned the camera a little to the right.

Damn.

There, at the far right side of the couch, sat one of the most gorgeous guys I’d ever seen. I

zoomed in to get a closer look. Despite the dimly lit club, the light found him. He was all long arms and long legs. His tousled mess of blond hair tumbled down in lazy curls around his

face where the hard angle of his jaw stopped at a strong chin. I immediately wanted to know

how it felt to run my fingertip down the slight cleft there. His cheekbones stood high up on

his face and the long curl of his eyelashes cast his eyes in shadow, making it difficult for me to determine their color from a distance. The scowl creasing his brow and thinning of his lips reminded me of those classical paintings of avenging angels. Dark, mysterious. He fit

Sacrifice’s theme so well.

It didn’t help that he wore a shirt half way unbuttoned with an untied red necktie hanging

down his shoulders and rolled up sleeves like he’d begun to get dressed and got bored

halfway through. The silver cross hanging from a leather strap around his neck rested where

his collarbones met. A silver rod poked out of his right eyebrow. And simple silver bands

circled each finger. Sexy. Then my gaze wandered to his tight jeans. He had his legs open wide like he waited for someone to sit on his lap. My throat dried up faster than leaves in summer.

Muscles twitched in the arms he had draped over the top of the couch while he tapped some

rhythm with his fingers. He seemed on edge despite the relaxed pose. Already, my camera

loved him.

I swallowed, squeezing my camera’s shutter shut. The way he stared at the dance floor, so

focused, made me wonder what could catch his attention that way. I let out a slow breath. I

just had to know.

It took three more candid shots, him never moving other than his tapping, until I realized

Silvia was speaking to me.

“Dakota Collins!”

I lowered my camera. The use of my full name never came with good consequences. I

blinked my vision back at her even if I wanted to spend the rest of the night taking
his

picture. Sweat rose over my upper lip. I may just have found my subject for the Spring

Showcase.

The only problem?

I had to find a way to convince him to be in my project. Something told me this wouldn’t

be easy. By the way my heart beat in my ears, drowning out the music and Silvia having a fit

in front of me, I wanted it too much. I wanted
him
too much.

“This the guy you were saying?” I showed Silvia the picture I’d taken. This seemed to

pacify her because she sidled closer, mesmerized like a moth to a flame.

“Luka Visraya,” she said with a moan like she’d just tasted the most luscious chocolate

before taking a long gulp of her cocktail. The name didn’t register. Silvia must have noticed

my blank expression because she continued. “He’s the bassist for Vicious.”

Still no pings of recognition in my head.

She slapped her thigh. “Where have you been? It’s weird that you haven’t heard of them.

Their songs are on the radio like every second.”

Of course I hadn’t heard of them. I liked listening to country and I hardly kept up with

current events.

“Name one?” Okay, I had a name. Luka. Exotic. A bassist. Part of a band I should know

about. So he’s famous. I slowly felt my chances of asking him to be my subject slip from my

grasp. If he was someone famous, fat chance he’d say yes to a graduating photography

student like me. I just about deflated when Silvia mentioned one of their songs. “Oh, I know

that one!” By accident. It played in the radio of the cab I rode in to Sacrifice. I stared at the picture of him then lifted my gaze to where he sat. “He’s gone.”

“What?” Silvia whipped around in time to come face to face with a wall of man. “Whoa!”

She pushed at him. “Watch it, buddy!”

“Give me the camera,” he said in a threatening tone.

Big. Beefy. Bald. The three Bs that made up the quintessential bodyguard.

I clutched my DSLR closer to my chest and looked up at him with my good eye. “And why

would I do that?” The patch didn’t seem to intimidate him because he just reached out. So

much for my Bond villain aspirations. I moved away from his grubby hand. No one touched

my camera but me.

Despite her size, Silvia came between me and the mountain. “We’re here to cover Sacrifice

for our college paper. You don’t have the right to take away my colleague’s camera.”

Yeah! You give it to him, Silvy.

Not that I couldn’t take care of myself. But if Silvia wanted to play hero, I wouldn’t stand

in her way.

“What seems to be the problem here?” a soft, authoritative voice chimed in.

The bodyguard moved aside to reveal the Gothic Lolita. She stood at just about the same

height as Silvia, but she possessed an older aura even if she seemed to be our age.

“She’s been taking pictures,” Baldy said.

Lolita’s kohl eyes landed on me then shifted to my camera.

“As I was saying to the big guy,” Silvia explained. “My colleague and I are covering the

opening of Sacrifice.”

“For what paper?” Lolita asked without taking her eyes off me. I clutched my camera like

an extra appendage. In some ways it was. After losing half my sight, I relied on my camera

like an extra eye, seeing the world through its lens. I would rather die than lose it.

“The Daily Gossip,” I said before Silvia could answer just to relieve some of the awkward

tension building in me under her gaze. “We study at Wexler U.”

She tilted her head, crossing her arms.

“Okay,” I quickly stammered out. “I get that the name of our paper sounds like a tabloid,

but the Daily Gossip is a cool campus paper.” The last part maybe only I believed since Silvia raised her eyebrow at me, but Lolita and the mountain didn’t have to know that.

No one spoke after that. Even in a noisy club, the silence in our group rang in my ears. Not

waiting for the situation to get any more awkward, I plowed forward with my own selfish

intensions.

“You know Luka.” I said it more as a statement, but it came out like a question.

Lolita nodded.

“I’m Dakota Collins and I’m graduating this spring. I was wondering if Luka would be

interested in—”

“What would I be interested in?” a smooth voice joined our group.

The walls of my throat closed, chocking the rest of what I had to say. All eyes turned to

Luka. Silvia dropped her empty glass. It bounced off the bodyguard’s shoe and landed in a

clatter but didn’t break. Even with my height, I still had to look up at him.

“What are you doing here?” Lolita admonished. “You should be backstage.”

One side of his lips came up. God. Without the scowl, his face lit up. I had to stop the urge

to lift my camera and start snapping away. And his eyes were piercing blue. The kind that

stretched over my mother’s farm in the summer. Damn.

Seeing him up close, I knew I’d give any one of my kidneys for a chance to take his picture

in a formal shoot.

“We have five minutes. Chill, Yana.” He tugged at one of her pigtails.

“Luka,” Silvia managed. “I’m a big fan. Will you sign my chest?”

Bypassing my petite colleague, Luka’s intensely blue gaze studied me. He reached out and

I flinched back. His fingers almost grazed my patch. What the hell was the matter with him?

Trying to touch my eye patch was tantamount to poking a bandage over a wound and asking

the person if it hurts.

Gothic Lolita—Yana—yanked Luka’s arm down. “I’m so sorry!” Her whole aura changed.

She went from all business to panicky. “My brother sometimes forgets his manners. He didn’t

mean anything about touching your…” She bit her lower lip, maybe trying to keep herself

from saying the wrong thing.

That little faux pas cleared my head of the Luka haze and spurred me into action. “Luka,

will you let me take your picture for my final project?” I didn’t know where my courage came

from, but I knew if I didn’t take this chance, I’d regret it. I had to have him as my subject.

Still not removing his gaze from my face, like my patch transfixed him, he tilted his head

to one side very much like his sister did earlier.

“Luka, don’t!” Yana said, but from the consideration on Luka’s face, she was too late.

“You’re a photographer?”

“Yes.” I nodded, in case the word wasn’t enough.

“And you’d like me to be the subject of your project?”

God yes! This time, I could only nod. I didn’t want him to see how eager I was. And I

couldn’t live with myself if I embarrassed myself further.

I waited with baited breath.

It seemed everyone in our group waited with baited breath for what the golden god had to

say about my brazen request. I soon realized when Luka spoke, everyone listened. The way he

pronounced every word precisely yet still spoke so smoothly, like butter on warm toast,

captured everyone’s attention. To say he captivated us was an understatement. Something in

me certainly wanted to hear him keep speaking. He could read from an accounting textbook

in that voice and no one would get bored.

“I need to know that you’re good,” he finally said.

Something about his words seemed to hold a different meaning. I must have missed the

alcohol in the soda Silvia had given me. Maybe I was drunk and this was all a blackout dream.

“What are you saying?” Yana faced Luka all the way now, her petite form all rigid.

He unleashed a full on megawatt smile my way. I almost had to cover my eye from it. At

my side, Silvia gasped. Her long nails dug into my arm. Like staring at the sun, I couldn’t take my gaze away from him no matter how bad it was for me.

“We’re about to perform. I want you to take several pictures then send them to Yana. If

she approves, we’ll see about your request.”

Then, like smoke, he disappeared into the crowd.

“Oh fuck.” Silvia cleared her throat. “Anyone here’s panties still dry?”

Chapter Two

Challenge

Before the rock god turned around, I distinctly caught the hint of challenge in his blue

eyes. It was as if he expected me to go beyond what he thought of me. If I really wanted Luka

to be the subject of my introspective, I had to prove myself. I wasn’t above showing someone

what I could do with a camera. My four years in college taught me never to be shy about my

talents.

Bring it on.

Challenge accepted.

“Here.” Yana shoved a card between my face and the digi screen of my camera. I’d been

adjusting the settings to accommodate the lighting I knew the stage would have. I took the

card and read the elegant script on a white background.

“Yana Visraya, Band Manager.”

She rolled her blue eyes and sighed. “My brother can be a monumental pain in my ass

sometimes.” She pointed at the card. “My email address is on the back. Better have those

pictures to me by morning or this,” she gestured between me and the stage, “isn’t gonna

happen. And I better not see those pictures leaked on the Net.”

I snorted. “I’m not that kind of photographer.”

Yana merely raked her sharp gaze up and down my body. I forced myself not to flinch

beneath her assessment. She sniffed then let the bodyguard part the sea of people for her. As

soon as she disappeared, I scanned the club for the best spot to capture the stage. Silvia

bounced into my field of vision, distracting me from the task that meant life or death for my

career. As a Philosophy major, she always liked saying seize the day. Well, this was me carpe

diem-ing, baby.

“What?” I barked down at her. I didn’t know when the band would begin performing. Luka

said they had five minutes. That was a long time ago. I pocketed Yana’s card without

confirming that her email address was indeed on the back. The annoyance on her face told

the truth for her.

Silvia poked my chest. “Better send me one of those pictures for the feature.”

Damn. I completely forgot about the Daily Gossip. “What’ll your feature be about so I

know which photos to send?”

“The band’s been on their world tour this year. I heard they had to take a break because

Luka had a meltdown.”

The information piqued my interest. “Meltdown?”

“No one really knows what that was about. Their PR, and I’m assuming that Goth girl,

Yana, did a really bang up job keeping things quiet. The fact that they’re here instead of

Germany is an indication that something’s up.”

“You sound like you follow more than just their music.” I pulled up Luka’s picture on my

camera’s digi screen again. The scowl on his face. What could it mean? And what was he