“You fucking believe everything you read.”
It wasn’t a question but things from him rarely are. “The paper was partly right about me.”
“Ditto. Partly.”
“Who the bloody fuck,” Barrons growled, “is printing these bloody things?”
“Well, now at least we’re all outed,” I said, “and I’m not feeling so personally persecuted anymore.”
“Jada,” Ryodan said.
I defended instantly, “I thought so, too, at first but I don’t think so anymore.”
“There are no contractions in this one, the grammar’s superior, and Jada’s the only one exonerated,” Ryodan said.
Barrons inclined his head in agreement. “And there’s no mention of Dani. Jada considers her dead.”
Viewed that way, even I was tempted to concur. I couldn’t see whoever was behind WeCare retracting the accusation against her, and she certainly had the hyperspeed to get a paper printed and distributed quickly.
“Dani’s not dead.” A dark head popped out from behind Ryodan’s large frame. I hadn’t seen him approaching in the twilight.
Apparently, Ryodan wasn’t wasting any time getting his “crew” to work on the problem of the rapidly atrophying muscles of the Nine’s vagina.
“And I don’t believe she printed it. The Mega is massively more colorful and entertaining.”
Oh, honey, I thought, are you ever in for a surprise. Jada was icy white and colorless as they came. I narrowed my eyes, studying the young man standing next to Ryodan, and wondered if he wasn’t the only one that was going to be shocked when the two met for the first time since Dani had returned.
Even in the pale light of the moon, I could see Dancer was different. He seemed taller, and he’d been tall to begin with at a good six-foot-four. My gaze swept down to his feet. Gone were the usual tennis shoes, replaced by boots similar to those Ryodan and Barrons wore, adding an inch or so of height. Gone was the zip-up sweatshirt, traded for a rugged black military field jacket. His jeans were faded, his shirt a concert tee, but the overall impression he gave was several years older than the last time I’d seen him. The biggest difference was something about his face. I cocked my head, trying to figure it out. Thick, wavy dark hair fell forward, brushing his jaw in a sexy college poet kind of way.
He felt me staring at him and flashed me a grin. “Contacts. Dude, whole world for the taking. Don’t know why I didn’t do it before. Would’ve rather had Lasik but haven’t found myself a surgeon I trust yet.”
That was it! He had gorgeous aqua eyes fringed by thick dark lashes. Before, I’d only seen them through lenses. He looked more athletic without them, more rough-and-tumble masculine.
I smiled faintly. He’d heard Dani was back, older, so he’d stepped up his game, made his intentions clear. Said, “I’m a man and you have choices, Dani.” Good for him. Their relationship was the most normal of any she’d had, and Dani had experienced precious little normalcy. I preferred him to the other liabilities she’d once told me she might give her virginity to; Barrons, and V’lane before we’d learned he was Cruce.
She’d been so determined that the loss of her virginity be epic, and while Dancer might not be epic, I wasn’t so sure her first time needed to be as much as it needed to be good, caring, honest, and real.
I winced as I realized I was thinking of Dani not Jada, and as if she was still fourteen, innocent in that one remaining way. It was highly doubtful Jada’s virginity was an issue. Especially not after the kiss I saw her give Ryodan. Jada was a woman who knew her sexual power. Five and a half years was a long time. Five birthdays. Had anyone celebrated them with her? Or like Barrons, had she come to despise cakes? I wanted to ask Jada if the loss of her virginity had been as stellar as she’d hoped.
Jada would never tell me.
Dancer was watching me, intuited some of my emotion. “She’s still Dani,” he said.
No she’s not, I didn’t say. Because I wanted so much for his words to be true.
“Even if, as he says,” Dancer jerked a thumb at Ryodan, “she has an alter ego, so what? Some people have too much going on inside to be limited to one mode of being. What was Batman but Bruce Wayne’s alter, and the Bat was faster, stronger, smarter, and way cooler. In fact, the case can be successfully argued that Batman wasn’t the alter. Wayne was. Batman had evolved, toughened, become superior in every way and occasionally donned the mask of the man to navigate society. Look at Wonder Woman, aka Princess Diana or Diana Prince, different in each situation. Superman became Clark Kent—”
“We get the fucking point,” Ryodan cut him off.
“I thought Kent became Superman,” I said.
Dancer shot me a derisive look. “Don’t you watch TV? You need to read up on your superheroes. He was born Kal-El on Krypton.”