Page 95 of Vengeance and Vipers
Meredith looks away. ‘She is dead. She was found in the alley behind the club, in the rubbish. They must have had her followed. They knew she was spying for someone. But she never knew who, so at least she could tell them nothing. From what I heard about the state of her body … they asked.’
Maddox stands, glancing at me. He gestures to the others. ‘Go. Feed. Iron, take Jules to the bar.’
I stand up, and we leave slowly, Iron keeping a firm grip on me as we go back into the club’s main room. The stage is empty for the moment, but there’s a new ‘set’ for the nextshow. Iron and Daemon flank me. The others slink away, but I see them watching from the wall by the private rooms.
‘Are they slaves?’ I ask.
‘Who?’ Daemon surprises me by answering my question.
‘The people on the stage,’ I answer.
He chuckles. ‘Volunteers only. You thinking of signing up, baby?’
His question makes me turn to him. ‘Would you like it see me up there strapped down and getting a good whipping?’ I ask.
I watch his mouth open and close like a fish, and his eyes go to the stage. I get the distinct impression he’s imagining it, and I look away, my attempt to make him uncomfortable having backfired spectacularly.
He gives a low, somewhat belated chuckle. ‘Only if I could be the one flogging the shit out of you,’ he says sweetly before melting into the crowd.
I swallow hard. I need to stop goading him. It’s only a matter of time before he loses it and chokes the life out of me.
Iron gets the barman’s attention and asks me what I want. I order a pornstar martini, my actual favorite drink, and look away to take in the atmosphere. It’s even busier now, and I realize that most of the newcomers seem to be male. It’s some kind of party. I shudder as I notice the large group next to me, realizing they’re all vamps and, by the looks of it, a very well-to-do coven.
I don’t mess with vamps, not ever. All they have is time, and they’re a special kind of nuts if you cross them. They never stop until revenge is theirs, no matter how long it takes. I already have enough regular enemies at my back to keep my attention. I don’t need any like that. No, thank you!
But when I look over to ask Iron something, he’s gone. My breathing picks up as I cast my eyes around a little frantically, trying to find him, stupidly worrying that I’ve been left alone. I’ve been by myself for years, and while I may not have frequented supe sex clubs, I’ve been to plenty of other, arguably more dangerous places. I can’t see him through the thickening crowd. I can’t see any of the clan.
I’m lowkey freaking out, and there’s nothing like a human’s heart pumping fast to get the attention of the bloodsuckers.
‘Would you like to come to a private room with me?’
I jump and turn around, realizing I’m being spoken to.
‘No, thank you,’ I say without looking at the speaker who’s propositioning me. ‘I’m actually here with someone.’
He chuckles, and I look up. He’s handsome and lithe and screams, ‘I was almost guillotined in the French Revolution, but, huzzah, I was saved at the last moment by the Scarlet Pimpernel’!
There’s even a cravat around his neck. Old habits die hard, I guess.
‘No one comes here to be monogamous, chéri.’
I straighten up, and I woman up because looking weak in here is going to get me sucked dry. I sort of feel bad for all the supes I lured into Siggy’s lair for her to slurp down. In some circles, a little bloodletting by a three-century-year-old vamp would just be me getting what’s coming to me after I helped my spider buddy do all that ‘murdering’ in the Mountain.
I attempt to get my shit together in front of the vamp and chuckle as I lean back, making a show of surveying him.
‘What’s your name?’ I ask.
‘Pierre.’
I’m surprised he doesn’t use all the titles he likely has. Most of them are pompous enough to, I hear.
‘Victoria,’ I say, holding out my hand palm down because I know he’ll want to kiss my hand and also because you don’t just show a vamp your juicy, blue wrist veins.
He does what I expect, watching me closely, and I grin.
‘It doesn’t work on me,’ I murmur.
‘What doesn’t?’
