Page 1 of Fanged Desire
Chapter 1
Hunter
Of all the things I could have been doing on New Year's Eve, traipsing through the grimy streets of New York City to meet a pompous elf man was last on my bucket list. The night carried the faint, thumping music of the club I was headed to and I strode through the dark, heels clicking against the concrete with a sound too sharp for my current mood, unable to suppress the grimace tugging at my lips.
In any other circumstance I would have welcomed this opportunity with open arms. Jordan had sent me to bargain, and I lived for negotiations, twisting words and turning on the charm. The cutthroat world of sales was my own personal playground. But this time was different. Elliot Moremont, arrogant half-elf and all-round asshat, had a way of grinding my patience down to dust. Even the thought of his overly elegant, condescending tone made my fingers twitch with annoyance.
But Jordan needed this deal closed. Expanding her enterprise into Elvish territory meant access to markets that had beenpreviously sealed tight, not to mention the elf’s promise of protection from anyone who might interfere. It was a lucrative opportunity, far too valuable to pass up. And it was my job to make sure it happened, even if it meant a night on the town with Mr Snobbery incarnate.
The club loomed into view and the long, snaking line of party goers stretched down the sidewalk in front of me. Rather than falling into line with the mass of bodies jostling to get in I passed them by, nodding to the bouncer at the entrance. The hulking man looked me over and let me pass without a word. Most likely he’d been notified that I was coming, and it would seem my reputation preceded me. I stepped inside and there was a hiss of apprehension from the line of clubbers waiting their turn.
Although I had never set foot inside before tonight, I was all too familiar with the nightclubMicere.It was a notorious spot where humans and supernatural creatures alike came to mingle – although the humans had no idea they were rubbing shoulders with elves, vampires, shifters, and a plethora of other beings whose existence went unnoticed by the denizens of New York. The one cardinal rule: Never reveal what you are, not to any humans, at least. The punishment for breaking that rule was severe, regardless of status or power.
Before I could disappear into the fray of dancers, a shrill voice at my back had me glancing over my shoulder.
“Come on! You know I’m good for it! My friends are already inside!”
I paused, sizing up a small woman with wild curls, glaring furiously at the bouncer. The woman was practically bouncing on her toes, a combination of frustration, desperation, and probably cocaine twitching every line of her posture.
“I told you, no ID, no entry,” the bouncer rumbled, folding his arms and erecting himself like a brick wall in front of her.His patience seemed to be wearing thin, though his expression remained neutral.
I wasn’t in the mood for distractions but the woman, who I suspected was a witch, reminded me of a certain demanding vampire associate. Maybe I was just feeling generous, or maybe I needed a quick win to boost my confidence before dealing with Elliot. Either way, I walked myself back to the bouncer and flashed him a smile.
“It’s all right, you can let her in,” I said, tone smooth, cutting through the conversation like a finely honed blade.
The bouncer’s eyes shifted to mine and I turned on the charm, the barest hint of power threading through my words. “She’s with me.”
It wasn’t a lie, not exactly. And the coercion wasn’t strong – just enough to nudge him in the right direction. The bouncer hesitated, then grumbled something profane and stepped aside. The witch’s eyes widened, her face lighting up as she tottered in after me.
“Oh my god, thank you!” she squealed, darting past me before I could change my mind. “I owe you one!”
I didn’t respond, she was already vanishing into the crowd inside, but a small, satisfied smile touched my lips. Flexing metaphorical muscles had done wonders for my mood, and I found myself slightly better prepared for the impending negotiations.
Stepping into Micere was like crossing into another world, all neon lights and thumping music that had your heart pumping faster than you’d like. The clientele was as diverse as the titillating beats – humans, witches, vampires, and, of course, elves, all mingling together under the cloak of secrecy that the club enforced.
I spotted Elliot immediately. He was lounging on a shiny sofa in the far corner of the room, a glass of something dark andviscous in his hand. His long, ginger hair was dead straight and impossibly glossy, and his beady little bug eyes were fixed on me as I approached. He smiled the kind of smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and lifted his glass in greeting.
“Hunter,” the Elven man crooned. “You’re right on time.”
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” I drawled, sliding into the seat across from him. I made a show of crossing my long legs and leaned back, the impression one of casual confidence that had gotten me this far.
Elliot extended his hand, waving down a waitress scuttling past. “A drink for the lady?”
I kept a smile plastered on my face, but my lip twitched at the overly courteous way he said ‘lady’. The waitress, a slim Elvish woman who looked out of her depths on such a busy night, turned wide eyes on me.
“A Bloody Mary, please.” I gave her a smile, flashing an inconspicuous set of fangs so she knew exactly what I was ordering.
The waitress gave a knowing nod, disappearing into the crowd to fetch the drink. Here, a Bloody Mary didn’t involve tomato juice. At least, not for the vampiric clientele.
I turned my attention back to Elliot, taking in the swanky suit, the golden cufflinks – no doubt imbued with Elven charm, and the way he tapped the toe of one shoe on the ground in time with the beat. Despite his ability to get under my skin, I knew he would be an easy client. The well-dressed ones were always all talk and no backbone. Easy to upend if you know their pressure points.
“So.” I kept my shoulders relaxed, glancing over the throng of dancers in the background. “Jordan tells me you have a proposition for us.”
Elliot’s gaze never left my face as we settled into the rhythm of conversation. The elf was a businessman, so we spoke in theway professionals often did, exchanging pleasantries and thinly veiled barbs as we worked our way toward the crux of the meeting.
Jordan’s business was ever-growing, the ever-expanding line of products as sporadic as the billionaire vampire herself. Flavored blood for the average vampire, as well asHigh Stakeshealth and energy products for the average human.
It seemed the elves had also taken a liking to the stuff, so setting up a few new stores on their turf was a widely welcomed idea. But there were a few elves who were vehemently opposed to vampires operating on their turf. That was where Elliot and his shiny shoes stepped in.
