Caught in the Glow (The Glower Chronicles Book 1) Read Online Free

anticipation. I’d turned out my light an hour ago, but I was sitting on my bed reading the assigned chapters for one of my distance courses on my phone. The bitter taste of the unsweetened coffee I’d gulped down after dinner lingered in my mouth.
    I’d been ready to stay up all night. It was almost a relief not to have to wait that long.
    Of course, a real relief would have been if Ryder had knocked on my door and let me know he planned to go out.
    I got up and headed for the living room. Ryder startled as I flicked on the main lights. They flooded the room, catching his figure in the foyer, one sneaker on, the other still in his hand. Alone. He’d sent his blonde companion off a few hours ago.
    Crossing my arms over my chest, I gave him a once-over as he glanced back at me. Tight dark jeans, tighter royal blue tee. “Good,” I said. “Looks like I’m already dressed appropriately enough for wherever we’re going.”
    As I ambled over, Ryder muttered something under his breath that was probably obscene. He really did have an awful mouth on him, fine as those full lips were.
    “I could try telling you to go back to bed,” he said, “but that’d be a waste of air, right?”
    “I see you’re familiar with the protocol,” I said. “FYI, next time a little advance heads up would be appreciated. But you’ll just try to sneak quieter, right?”
    He grimaced and pulled on his other sneaker. “Well, let’s go,” he said. “I hope you can keep up.”
    Beyond the twinkling lights of the lobby, a car was already waiting for us: a classic Mercedes with a maroon paint job. Ryder slid into the back without a word, so I guessed he’d given his driver directions ahead of time. The tinted divider window was shut. I sank into the leather seat beside Ryder, and the engine revved.
    My hands moved automatically to buckle my seatbelt. When I looked over at Ryder, expecting a sarcastic comment about playing it safe, he was doing up his own. He noticed me staring and smiled at me for the first time since yesterday’s meeting, flashing even white teeth.
    “I take my risks on a case by case basis.”
    “Good to know,” I said.
    Wherever we were going, it wasn’t far from the condo building. I figured about fifteen minutes had passed before the car stopped. Ryder leapt out onto the sidewalk, and I scrambled after him. The squat brick building before us was pulsing with red-and-violet lights and a frenetic electronic beat. Its name was etched in shadows on the pitch-black sign: The Catacomber. Ryder strode straight in without a backward glance. Steeling myself, I followed suit.
    This club wasn’t in the same category as the polished, upper echelon place where he’d gotten into the fight last month. I wondered if he’d picked that place specifically because of the extra publicity that would come with his stunt, or if he’d picked this one because he thought it would unnerve me.
    Beyond the Catacomber’s dim entryway, a short flight of steel stairs led into a dance pit. And pit was the word for it. A crush of bodies jostled and collided beneath the stuttering colored lights. To my surprise, an actual band was playing on the battered stage at the far end, an East Asian guy with a bleached fauxhawk crooning into the microphone as a green-haired girl beside him produced an eerie digitized melody from her keyboard. A drum machine thumped behind them.
    A metallic tang mingled with the smell of perspiration in the air, prickling my nose as I trailed after Ryder down into the fray. He went straight through the crowd toward the stage. I took an elbow to the ribs and a smack of sweat-damp hair to the face as I pushed after him. I must have drunk too much coffee, because my head was starting to throb in time with the beat, the precursor to a caffeine headache. I closed my eyes for a second, and winced as a heel stomped down on my foot.
    Give me another ballerina next time? I thought in silent supplication to the Society