Page 120 of Vampire so Virtuous
“Oh, I did that a while ago. Something disturbing is beneath us, but more immediately pressing are the nine thralls closing in.”
Her eyes widened. “Are they a threat to you?”
“Not precisely.” He looked over her shoulder. “It is more about the threat they pose to you. And then there are the many surrounding us with their camera phones.”
She understood immediately. “You can’t fight as a vampire.”
“Exactement.But I can still fight.”
She bared her teeth. “So can I.”
A bouncer pushed through the crowd behind Antoine, reaching with one large hand for his shoulder. Antoine swayed to the side without even looking, reached up to grasp the thrall’s wrist, and then spun behind him. He moved with human speed, but so gracefully, so fluidly, as he forced the man’s shoulder down. Antoine stamped on his ankle and the man cried out, his leg buckling as he dropped to his knees. There was a snap as Antoine broke his arm, loud enough to cut through the beat of the music, then the edge of his hand chopped into the thrall’s neck, sending him slumping forward onto the sticky floor.
It happened so fast most nearby hadn’t seen, but those that had backed swiftly away, watching with wary eyes and no desire to get involved.
Antoine extended his hand. “Come,ma chérie.It is time to go home.”
She slipped her fingers into his warm grasp, letting him draw her through the crowd. As before, they parted as if unaware they were doing so, and together they moved swiftly.
But not fast enough to avoid more thralls. Two came from in front of them, but neither were dressed as bouncers. They were both large men, their physiques more like Mike’s than Antoine’s, and they pushed the crowdaside as they came.
Antoine stepped in close to the one on the right, his fist flashing forward, the blow’s inhuman speed concealed by his body. The man folded, gasping for breath he couldn’t take in as his face turned dark red, the sound of the strike lost in the music.
Cally leaped forward, using Antoine’s shoulder as an aide to spring up and drive her knee into the other man’s face. He reeled back from the blow, blood gushing from his nose. As she landed, she kicked the inside of his leg, feeling the grinding sensation beneath her boot as the joint shifted against bone. He screamed, the leg giving out as he fell into a man beside him. The thrall clutched his ruined limb, while the innocent man pushed back in irritation, trying to shove him off.
A few in the crowd had seen. Two women screamed, their cries drowned by the music, while a man held up his hands in placation.
“Leave my boyfriend alone, you bastards!” Cally shouted. It seemed like a worthwhile ruse; though only a few heard her above the din, their postures relaxed and their attention turned to the man on the floor, clutching his knee.
The irony wasn’t lost on her that the man took the blame for attacking a woman, when she’d struck first and hard.
“Yourboyfriend,ma chérie?” Antoine’s dulcet tones brushed against her ear.
“A distraction. Don’t get any ideas.”
He turned away with a laugh she saw but didn’t hear.
Another man pushed through the crowd behind them, armed with a broken bottle—a jagged shard gripped by the stem. Cally didn’t hesitate; she lashed out with the back kick Joon always said she relied on too much, taking the man in the stomach. He gasped and staggered back into the press of revelers behind him. Cally spun on her other leg, grateful for her ankle boots’ grip, and snap-kicked him in the face. He fell.
As Antoine predicted, phones appeared in the hands of those nearby, all pointed at Cally. Some wore shocked expressions, while others grinned, enjoying the spectacle and maybe hoping to catch another flash of panties that came with taekwondo in a midi dress.
“Watching you have fun is a delight,ma chérie,but we really should be going.”
Antoine’s hand found hers, and she turned away, letting him draw her on.
Another man pushed through near them and Cally tensed, but Antoine’s hand tightened on hers. “Not this one.”
She recognized Noah a second later, with Zoey in his wake. They fell in behind them, watching their backs as the four moved toward the doors. Cally clung to Antoine’s hand and pressed against his side to avoid the dancers, and he gave her a reassuring squeeze.
The music covered the sounds of their progress. If the clubbers had noticed the unconscious bouncer or the recent fights, their cries of alarm went unheard above the din. There was no panic or attempt to escape. No one had shouted ‘gun!’ and a fight in the club was probably no rarity.
A minute later, they emerged from the press near the exit. The bouncer on duty was on his feet, another man standing beside him. Despite Antoine’s earlier concerns, he left Cally’s side in a blur, and in two seconds, both men were slumped against the wall.
Antoine pushed open the door and held it for her. “Shall we?”
He could be so formal, but it had its own charm. “Yes, let’s.”
Cally walked out into the stairwell, eyeing the bouncer with caution. But either he wasn’t a thrall or he wasn’t aware; he simply returned her gaze, impassive.
