Dangerous Dream Read Online Free PDF Page A

find out if you wanna hang out after the gig.”
    “If by ‘hang out,’ he means sleep with him, I’ll pass.”
    The roadie shook his head. “I’m totally screwing this up. He’s gonna be pissed. He noticed you before. He’s just inviting you—”
    Ridley cut him off. “To the big game?”
    The Mortal’s blue eyes widened. “No. To have a drink backstage. How do you know about the game?”
    “A little birdie told me, Blue Eyes.” Ridley unwrapped a lollipop. Using her powers to extract a little information from a Mortal was certainly not the same as using them to get what she wanted from Dark Caster boys. “Now, why don’t you tell me all about it.”
    The Mortal stared into Ridley’s gold eyes, transfixed. “They’re playing Liar’s Trade, tournament-style. One winner takes all.”
    Liar’s Trade was a Caster take on the Mortal card game known as bullshit. Except Casters didn’t play for money.
    “What are they trading?” Rid asked.
    “TFPs.”
    “Are you screwing with me?” Ridley must have heard him wrong.
    “Talents, favors, and powers. That’s the buy-in,” he said.
    No one played for TFPs anymore. Wagering your powers and talents in a game was insane, even if most people only bet enough to lose their powers for a few weeks. Rid knew what it felt like to lose her powers, and she would never risk feeling that way again.
    Still, there was always a way around the rules—especially if you were a Siren.
    Ridley sucked on the lollipop for a second, then pulled it out of her mouth with a loud pop. “Get me in the game.”
    His expression clouded over in confusion, and he shook his head. “It’s impossible.”
    She leaned closer, until she and the Mortal were nose to nose. “Anything is possible, Blue Eyes. If your life depends on it.”
    If the stakes were high enough, it might take her mind off the one thing she couldn’t stop thinking about.
    And how easily he had let her go.

    Ridley had never seen so much blood. Commercial refrigerators lined the walls of the club’s back room. Inside, plastic freezer bags filled with blood were stacked next to bar staples, like bottles of orange and cranberry juices.
    Rid glanced from the bags to the Mortal. “You’re okay with that, Blue Eyes?” Most Mortals were squeamish when it came to the Dark side of the Caster world.
    He shrugged and opened a cellar door in the floor. “Better than what I had waiting for me back home. Being a Mortal is harder than you think.”
    “I wouldn’t know,” Ridley lied. She remembered every second she’d spent as a Mortal—life at the mercy of circumstances that were always beyond her control, and the constant sense of hope that tricked her into believing that her life could be different. That she could be different.
Suffer would’ve been a better name for their world. What’s a little blood compared to that?
    “You’ve played Liar’s Trade, right?”
    “Of course,” Ridley lied again. She’d seen other people play, which was almost the same thing, and she didn’t actually intend to play, anyway. Just to win. Being a Siren gave Ridley the only edge she needed.
    She followed the roadie down the damp stone steps and through the tunnel at the bottom. Ornate crystal sconces adorned the walls, throwing soft light on the reddish-brown water sloshing at their feet.
    A rat scurried past one of Ridley’s platform heels. “Classy place.”
    “It’s the Incubus VIP lounge,” he said.
    For a moment, Rid tried to imagine Link hanging out in a bloodstained tunnel decorated with chandeliers that looked like they belonged in Ravenwood Manor. But she couldn’t. Even though he was a quarter Incubus now, there was nothing Dark about Link.
    What a stiff.
    They reached the end of the tunnel and stood before the mirrored doors of an elevator. “You’re sure you want to do this?” the roadie asked.
    “Don’t worry about me, Blue Eyes. I’ve got this.” The elevator doors opened and Ridley stepped inside.
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