Except most of the people before her seemed to be taking pointers from the seductive beats playing overhead.
She searched the entire lower level for her demon, all the suit-clad males blending together with the pass of her gaze. A roped-off staircase near the middle led up to a VIP area, somewhere she couldn’t access.
Are you up there, Issac?
Is this where you come when you need a break from toying with me?
She suspected Tom wanted her to catch Issac here, hooking up with another woman. Stas didn’t exactly want to see that, but she could use the reminder of their business arrangement. Last night’s date had felt a little too real, at least until he’d ruined it with the truth.
“You’re quite literally the perfect pawn.” His words reverberated through her heart, making her even more furious. Not necessarily at him, but at herself. Because at some point in the last week, she’d developed feelings. And those feelings were not acceptable.
She knew better.
This wasn’t a real relationship. He needed something from her, plain and simple. They just happened to also be attracted to one another, a complication that could be solved by one night in his bed.
Or maybe a weekend.
Unless her emotions latched on, which they seemed to be doing.
She scanned the lower level once more, focusing on the dimly lit bar, and then the couches again. If she found Issac with another woman—
Awareness prickled her spine, her senses picking up something.
No, not something, someone.
There.
At the top of the stairs, dressed in an all-black suit like every other male in this club. Yet he owned it in a way the others never could.
And damn if he didn’t look good.
She stepped to the side, admiring him as he descended with two other men. No women. Her shoulders relaxed, her stomach loosening at the sight of him without a date.
Not the right reaction.
Fuck off.
The three men garnered attention around them as they hit the bottom floor, several women already turning their way, but the trio moved through all of them with ease, their disinterest clear.
Stas stepped to the side, trying to keep them in her sights, when a finger boldly traced her spine, setting off her pulse.
Danger, her instincts whispered, her skin tingling with alarm. An unspoken threat had lingered in that brazen touch, stirring unease inside her.
“Hello, lovely.” A low murmur against her ear, barely audible over the music. “Care to dance?”
She didn’t even need to turn around to know the answer to that. No. But another caress of her back said this one wouldn’t be swayed easily.
“I’m actually looking for someone,” she replied while stepping out of his reach and to the side, where she nearly tripped over her own heels.
Oh, fuck.
It was the guy from Owen’s apartment.
The one she’d nicknamed Hank.
“I’m looking for someone too,” he replied, his muddy gaze sliding over her neckline and lower to her exposed legs.
She swallowed. Twice. Working on a reply that wouldn’t come out in a screech. Because holy shit, he’d somehow been involved in Owen’s death. Or at least the world that killed him.
“Sorry,” she said, clearing her throat. “I meant I’m meeting someone.” Those words usually worked, but Hank remained unfazed, his lips twitching at the side. The words seemed to go right through him as he moved into her personal space. She took a step back into a wall of male and spun to the side. The glass fell from her hand, shattering on the floor.
Brutus. His lecherous gaze stroked over her while Hank crowded her from the other side, both men trapping her with an ease that made her stomach churn.
Do they recognize me? She’d been in several of Owen’s photos and had been friends with him for years. What do they want?
“What did you find, Mike?” Brutus asked, lifting his stubby finger to fondle a strand of her hair.
“Something delicious,” Hank—or rather Mike—replied from behind her.
Her pulse raced, the need to duck out of their masculine cage clawing at her insides. But as she stepped to the side, they followed, edging her closer to the couches, and farther from the exit.
“It’s cute. She thought my asking her to dance was a request.” Mike sounded genuinely amused.
“I guess she’s not into the gentlemanly thing, so should we get right to the point?” Brutus’s lips were far too close to her neck, his words damp against her skin.
“That’s certainly how I’m interpreting it,” Mike replied, grabbing her hip, pulling her ass up against his groin.
“You really don’t want to do this,” she said, meaning it.
Command them to release you, the devil on her shoulder whispered.
Consider the consequences, her common sense replied.
One demand and they would have to leave her alone, but it wouldn’t be subtle enough for them not to notice. And the last thing she needed was these two becoming aware of her persuasive abilities. They were probably about as human as Issac.
“Upstairs?” Mike asked.
“Yeah, she seems like a screamer. Do your thing, buddy.”
How about we not…
“Gladly.” Mike whirled her to face him, his grin menacing.
She pressed against his chest, not at all impressed by the stench of smoke surrounding him. “Really, I don’t want—”
“Gentlemen,” a new voice greeted, the owner standing just behind Mike. “I do hope you’re planning to share.”
Forest-green irises met hers, his face immediately familiar. One of the men walking down the stairs with Issac. Momentary relief flooded her, followed swiftly by dread. Cruelty lurked in this man’s features, providing him with a lethal edge that matched his sharp, athletic form.
“She is a tempting morsel, indeed,” he added with a smirk that sent a chill down her spine.
What kind of needs does this club cater to? Because she was starting to think this place might be a dungeon of sorts, for unwilling participants.
“Back off, Tristan,” Mike growled, his grip tightening. “We found her first.” Challenge lurked in his voice, his muscles flexing. Brutus joined him, his stance and presence menacing.
Tristan smirked, arrogance dripping off him as he ran his gaze lazily over the other men. He stood a few inches shorter, but violence radiated off him. The other two were more bodyguard types, all intensity and bulk. Tristan’s lack of concern told her just what kind of man lurked beneath the suit.
“Did you, though?” he asked, cocking his dark head to the side. “I fear you might be wrong about that.” The two brawny males visibly stiffened as a familiar warmth caressed her back. Tristan lifted his gaze to the one behind her. “You need a better leash for your pet, Issac.”
A palm grabbed her hip, yanking her backward and away from Mike.
“Indeed,” Issac murmured, his opposite hand circling her neck to hold her captive against him. “Thank you, Tristan.”
“Sire.” Tristan bowed his head and took his leave.
Mike and his friend stuck around, their eyes locked on the demon behind her with a mixture of uncertainty and resigned reverence.
“Gentlemen, my apologies for the misunderstanding.” Issac’s lips skimmed her thundering pulse, the heat from his body burning her back. “This one belongs to me.”
What? I belong to no one.
But yeah, she wasn’t going to argue right now. Not with him saving her from the two goons in front of her. Whatever they’d planned for her upstairs was definitely worse than being manhandled by her demon.
“S-sorry, Wakefield,” Mike stuttered. “We didn’t know she was yours.” He put his hands in front of him, his expression contrite.
“Yeah, we didn’t mean anything by it,” his buddy added. “We’re really sorry.”
The two groveling idiots took a step backward, their gazes downcast.
&nbs
p; They were terrified.
Stas frowned. What had them scrambling to get away from her demon? Sure, he maintained a daunting presence, but this was more than mere intimidation. They were submitting to him.
“An oversight on my part, I assure you. You’re forgiven.” Tension radiated at her back. Issac was livid. At her?
Mike and Brutus excused themselves in a similar fashion to Tristan, inclining their heads in a gesture of respect, before prowling about for another victim.
The fingers curled around her throat tightened. “What are you doing here, Astasiya?”
She tried to turn to face him, but he held her in place. A jolt of simmering electricity flashed through her veins, leaving her breathless and mute in his arms. The display of dominance should have pissed her off, yet it left her feeling… conflicted.
“Answer me,” he demanded.
Right. Her presence at the Arcadia. She couldn’t exactly tell him she’d come here searching for him at Tom’s advisement. “Don’t most people go to clubs to dance?” she asked, feigning innocence. A ridiculous excuse, one he had to see right through.
“I don’t see you dancing,” he growled, the sound rumbling through her ears, heightening that sizzling energy flowing through her.
“That’s because I’m being manhandled,” she replied, ignoring the sensations his nearness provoked and focusing on her sarcastic tendencies.
“This is not a game.” The low pitch of his voice caused her to squirm, visions of his bedroom materializing behind her eyes. That was the kind of tone a man used in bed. An experienced one. A male who knew how to properly fuck a woman until dawn.
God, I need this to end. I can’t focus around him, this attraction—
Issac bit her ear, interrupting her thoughts and sparking new ideas.
What would that mouth feel like on other parts of her body? He seemed to enjoy nibbling. Her nipples tightened at the prospect of him focusing his attentions there.
Think of last night. How he called you a pawn.
Her blood cooled.
Yes, that’s what she needed to remember. His intentions with her.
“Who told you to come here, Astasiya?”
“Why do you care?” she countered, her voice higher than she intended. He evoked a response from her unlike any other. Not that her limited experience was much of a comparison.
“Because whoever sent you here is trying to get you killed.”
She frowned. Tom wouldn’t put her life in danger. He might be angry with her, but he still cared about her.
“Look around you,” Issac said, angling her toward the back of the room.
She much preferred the view of the dance floor and the door. “I’m not really into voyeurism, Issac.” She tried to look away, but the hand on her neck held her in place.
“Watch.”
Not having much choice, she studied the threesome occurring on the couch nearest them. The mostly naked woman seemed to be enjoying herself with one man at her exposed breast and another beneath her skirt. Her dark head was tossed back in bliss while both men worked her over with frantic mouths.
“Is this what you’re into, Issac? Kinky shit?” she asked, wondering if this was what Tom meant for her to see.
“Oh, darling, you have no idea what I’m into.” The gentle kiss Issac laid on her neck belied his furious tone. “Look closer. What are they really doing?”
Swallowing, she eyed the ménage à trois again.
More ecstasy.
Mouth opened on a cry of… pain?
Her brow furrowed. Is that blood?
She sucked in a breath, her eyebrows lifting. The man at the woman’s chest was lapping up a trail of dark liquid pooling from an open wound over her nipple.
And the one between her legs wasn’t angled right.
They’re not pleasuring her.
They’re drinking from her.
Oh, what the fuck?
Two couches over, a foursome of three women and one man in a similar position. His mouth parted, eyes closed, one female on her knees bobbing her head while the other two suckled his neck and bare chest.
Vampires.
“Yes, you see it now, don’t you?” Issac’s harsh whisper heated her cooling skin, his lips at her throat. “Now tell me why you’re here. Who sent you to die, Astasiya?”
“No.” She tried to shake her head, but his grip forbade the movement. “He wouldn’t. He just wanted…” Wanted her to what? Realize Issac wasn’t human?
Her pulse leapt.
That would imply Tom knew.
How could he know something like that? Her knees shook, her limbs threatening to give out. Because if Tom knew, Doctor Fitzgerald knew, which would imply the CRF…
She couldn’t finish that thought, her vision darkening before her eyes.
Issac’s speculations…
No. No way.
She couldn’t believe any of it. There was no way Tom knew what she would find here.
Then why send me?
Fuck.
“Thomas,” Issac snarled against her ear. “That’s what he told you in the hallway last night. To come here.”
She barely heard him, her focus on the nightclub. The feeding. The vampires. Everywhere. On the couches, against the back walls, on the dance floor, even at the bar.
She’d missed all of it in favor of finding Issac.
Tom had led her to a blood den.
A club meant for demons.
“An Ichorian club,” she realized out loud, her voice barely audible. That was the only explanation for this, for Issac’s presence, why Tom told her to come here.
Her stomach twisted.
Why not just tell her the truth? Why put her at risk like this?
“Indeed, it is,” Issac confirmed softly. “Come, I need—”
“Is there a problem, Issac?” The cultured voice came from her right, interrupting Issac.
Stas hardly registered the newcomer, her gaze still on the couches. She spotted a third group—two men fucking a woman between them while openly feeding from her neck. Her face had taken on an unhealthy ashen tint rather than a euphoric one. She’s dying…
“No problem, Osiris. Just having a conversation about what happens to women who are disobedient.” Issac’s harsh words drew her attention to the bald man standing before them. Dark brows, olive skin tone, harsh jawline, all wrapped up in a dangerous aura that sent a shiver down her spine.
The slight tightening of Issac’s grip told her to stay quiet, a warning she didn’t need.
This man was a predator.
A threat.
And ancient.
She shivered, her instincts telling her to run. This male could hurt her. Badly. And the cruelty lurking in his green eyes said he’d enjoy it.
He studied her intently, his gaze seeming to memorize every line and detail as if searching for her very soul. The slight pinch in his mouth suggested he found her lacking as he finally returned his attention to Issac.
“Eager to join us, is she?” he asked, his accent distinctly other. Old. Very, very old.
“Something like that,” Issac replied.
“Bring her tonight. We could all use a diversion, and your punishments are always so creative.”
The way he said it, so cold and calculating, scattered goose bumps down her arms. This was the man in charge. No question. And he would kill her without remorse. She could see it in the way he regarded her.
As an object beneath him.
A toy.
Just a passing amusement.
How could Tom send her here knowing the danger this place possessed?
Issac stroked his finger down the column of her throat as he considered the proposal. Her pulse raced as she waited, wondering what he would do, if he even had a choice. “As much as I would enjoy providing some evening entertainment, I fear her punishment will be for my eyes only tonight,” he mused softly. “She’s made me quite hungry, and I don’t feel up to sharing.”
“Di
sappointing.” From the look he gave Issac, she could tell this man didn’t appreciate being disappointed. “Bring her anyway.”
She recognized the power in those three words, the familiar note of persuasion one she often heard in her own voice. He can compel. Even she felt pressured to obey, despite not knowing where he wanted Issac to take her.
Holy shit.
“Of course, Sire,” Issac replied smoothly.
Tristan had used that term earlier. Sire must be a term of reverence or superiority, similar to how one would address a king.
“We’ll see just how eager she is to join us afterward,” Osiris mused.
Ancient eyes met hers, freezing her inside. She couldn’t even breathe, let alone speak.
“I suggest you behave, little one. Issac is not known for his mercy—a trait I admire deeply.” With that solemn warning, the man sauntered over to the staircase and ascended it. The guards bowed their heads as he passed, adding to his air of authority. Yes, definitely the one in charge.
Her chest ached from the lack of air, her throat burning beneath Issac’s touch.
“Not a word,” he whispered against her ear. “You need to do exactly what I say. Now walk with me.”
Cool air met her neck as he dropped his hold, her lungs still not working the way they should.
I need to get out of here.
Except Issac guided her in the opposite direction, one of his hands meeting the small of her back to propel her forward—toward the same staircase Osiris had ascended.
Oh God…
Her legs locked, her heels cementing to the ground, but a subtle push against her spine forced her to move alongside Issac. Up the stairs. Past the nodding guards—no bowing. When one of them eyed her with unveiled interest, she stepped closer to Issac’s side, seeking his protection and warmth.
He kept walking, guiding her upward into the VIP lounge filled with more couches and chairs. One of the patrons waved, her striking features familiar.
Clara.
The woman’s face broke into a wide grin at Issac’s approach, only to fall when she noticed his arm around Stas.
Issac shook his head once, earning him a pouty face from the woman.
This must have been whom he’d been entertaining before venturing downstairs with his two friends. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what they’d all been up to, not with Clara wearing a black negligee and nothing else.
Vote Then Read: Volume I Page 134
