Page 9

Tendrils of cigar smoke drifted through the air, the scent of tobacco mingling with a faint underlying layer of blood. My mouth watered and my teeth pressed against my gums while I eyed the scantily clad flesh milling about.

“Menus,” a cute blond waitress announced, setting folders down. “Or do you already know what you’d like?”

My friend’s lips curled, and he licked his teeth. He did nothing to hide what he was doing when he adjusted himself. Blonds were his preference; I’d learned that very early on.

My own tastes ran to all flavors of beauty; I did not discriminate.

Very few things turned me off. I was a patient man other than when it came to impolite behavior. But I also disliked weakness or chaos. Things needed to be structured and orderly.

Filth and unkept clothing were other peeves of mine.

Messy pets—of both the animal and human variety.

There were more than a few, but I wasn’t one to turn down a fresh meal.

“Are you willing?” I heard my friend ask the server.

Kiam’s teeth pushed through his gums; his human-born status evident due to the slightly shorter and thicker width of his fangs. Before she could answer, he’d snared her wrist, and she was suddenly on his lap.

My vampiric hearing picked up the sweet phrases he whispered while he bound her to his will. Soon, she stopped slapping her palms against his chest and nestled her head against his shoulder. Then, the pungent aroma of the juices between her legs filled the air around our table.

“Don’t leave,” he muttered, between swipes of his tongue along her neck.

He was speaking to me, but I walked away. My self-control was a point of pride, but I had my own needs.

Multiple eyes tracked me as I crossed the room, making my way to the bar. “iPad, please,” I asked the waiter, laying my hand on the counter.

He passed me the device, and I placed my palm on the screen. A blue beam of light passed underneath my hand. “Mister Mortensen, a pleasure to have you with us tonight.”

I gave him a nod, and he turned to open a cabinet against the wall, retrieving a carafe. He returned with a thick crystal glass and poured the liquid, releasing an earthy, coppery scent.

“Thank you,” I murmured, perusing the crowd.

“Anything you need at all, please let me know.”

Glancing at the man, I gave him a small smile. He knew what I was. Very few of the employees knew the darker habits of the clientele, but I was told there was always one on shift who did. This man would never breath a word of the club’s secrets, not without permanent consequences.

“What are you doing here?” A voice came up behind me.

The human vampire’s breath stirred my hair, and I whirled around, extending my nails as I grabbed his neck. He was teeming with anger, so much wrath the blood vibrated in his veins.

“Who are you?” I demanded. His rage blocked his sense of self-preservation. Leaving him daring to approach me with anything but reverence.

“Go back to your hell hole beneath the earth,” the man ground out. “You don’t belong here.”

Twisting around, I slammed his trembling body against the wall while a tear ran down his cheek. The salty drop was chased with a long stroke of my tongue, and he kicked my knees as if the action would release him from my grasp. He was begging me for death.

Enflamed with hunger, I stretched my jaw and sank my teeth into his neck. Instantaneous relief filled me when the liquid slid down my throat. Every single one of my cells danced with sheer bliss, revitalizing, renewing, rejoicing over my actions.

A couple of quiet gasps reached my ears, but I knew I was protected. The amount of magic covering the entire club was formidable, and it was a rare human who wouldn’t fall under the spell of the multiple wards enacted for our protection.

Before I released the man, I tore his head from his body and dropped it on the floor. It landed with a solid, wet thump. Then I waved a hand over the mess, dissolving it seamlessly into the ether. The dead vampire’s companions looked away, not wanting to draw either my attention or my ire.

Shrugging off my coat, I returned to the bar. The waiter eyed it and then thrust his hand out. “I will dispose of this—unless you prefer it be laundered?”

“Burn it, please.”

“As you wish, sir.”