The Shadow of the Dark: The Chronicles of Randy Carter Book 1 by Sonya Lawson

Author:Sonya Lawson [Lawson, Sonya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: SauceBox Press
Published: 2023-01-12T16:00:00+00:00

The place was packed, as it usually was. We’d paid the doorman and elbowed our way to the bar, ponying up to get a beer for Gareth and a vodka soda for me. I surveyed the scene as we waited. People were crammed in every part of the space, bodies moving together in time with the music. There were groups together, people clearly friends or more moving as a unit, but overall, everyone was one giant mass of heat and beat.

The beats pounding in my blood came from the DJ set up in the right front corner. An L-shape of turntables surrounded crates of records set on a small platform. A few DJs worked Heatwave, taking turns spinning their own sets off and on throughout the night, but it was all the same general vibe: old-school R&B, Soul, Funk, and Motown from the sixties and seventies blasting through the crowd. It was dance music with heart and heat, hence the name, I suppose. Music that echoed through time all the way down to people who hadn’t even been born—whose parents might not have even been born—when those records had first come out. It didn’t matter. These beats resonated through the decades, the transcendence of voice and horns and bass snaring everyone in the room. It was why I loved Heatwave so much—it felt fresh and alive, but timeless.

I favored darker music when working or listening on my own, more industrial, but I loved to dance here, to this music. I was swaying already, moving my wide hips in rhythm, when Gareth turned to me with my drink. He’d insisted on paying for it after I’d paid the small cover, and I had no problem letting him. I sipped my drink, a strong pour that made a delicious burn run down my throat, as Gareth took the time to look over the room himself. When his eyes came back to me, they snagged on where my body moved to the music, focusing in on my twisting hips for a long moment.

He leaned down to my ear. I knew his voice was loud, the puff of air at his words caressing my ear and making my gut clench, but it sounded like a whisper in the loud barroom when he said, “Dance with me.”

Gareth extended his hand but waited for me to lead, for me to affirm and set the pace. I shoved my way through a pack of sweaty bodies to find a small space for us to stand, nearly chest to chest, and dance together.

We stood close, almost touching, moving separately to a driving Funk beat backed by blaring horns. Gareth eventually reached around to grab my hip. He rested his hand gently, almost reverently, there, not pulling me closer. I stepped in and pressed my hips to his until I felt a fist at my side, his hand grasping at the contact. I threw my hands up onto his shoulders and twisted my body to the music. We found

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