Vampire Master: Vampire Queen Series: Club Atlantis

by Joey W. Hill

  “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  Ella looked up and saw them watching her. She struck a sassy pose, stuck her tongue out at Wolf, and then went back to what she was doing. Watt chuckled.

  “Why don’t you get yourself some ice cream and then go introduce yourself to those folks over there?” He nodded to a table of men, varying ages. When one of them looked toward Watt, Wolf saw he wore a Vietnam vet cap.

  “They’re a good group,” Watt said. “All servicemen. Three of them recovering. Herb’s the only one at the table who isn’t homeless. He started here that way, but he’s got his own place now, does monthly dinners for some of those guys.”

  “I don’t…I’m different.”

  “We’re all different, we’re all the same. Go on, boy. Be rude not to say a hello when they already looked over here at you. They can tell you’re one of them.”

  As Ella scooped ice cream, she saw Wolf move to one of the tables, taking a seat near Herb and his guys. She smiled at Watt. She should have known the shelter founder would figure out where Wolf fit best. It was Watt’s particular gift.

  She wondered if Wolf might be interested in doing some therapy here. Not BDSM therapy, obviously, but maybe a non-BDSM version of it. Or just hanging out and talking to the guys on occasion, which sometimes was good enough.

  She was impressed by how he listened, the way he leaned forward, arms crossed on the table. Since she now knew he was a vampire, she remembered when she’d seen him eat, which wasn’t often, it was usually only small bites of things. She deduced he might not be able to consume food the same way humans did. So when she turned over her place at the buffet to another volunteer, she made him a really small dish of ice cream and brought it to him, along with a cup of Watt’s famous sweet tea. Deducing the overload of sugar might not put a vampire in a diabetic coma, she put both down at his elbow.

  He drew her to his side, his arm around her hips and waist. Leaning in, he pressed a kiss high on her chest, above the rise of her breast and below her collar bone. It made her stomach tingle. Then he brought her down to sit on his knee, so she could listen in on the conversation. Her arm lay in a relaxed hook around his shoulder, his loosely around her hips.

  Some of those at the table were normally sullen and quiet, but Wolf was good at bouncing off Herb’s lead and drawing them out. They talked about a variety of things. Some innocuous stuff, like the ice cream. Then some more serious stuff, like what they were dealing with. They’d recognized he knew where they’d been. He was accepted.

  It all felt normal, natural and easy. Like he was her guy and she was…his.

  At length, it was time to get the kids ready for bed. She helped with that, tucking them into their cots. Most of the little ones wanted to sleep with their mothers, cling to them through the night to ensure they didn’t disappear.

  One young girl was in her own cot, though she’d pulled it frame to frame next to her mother, who was already half asleep, her face lined with exhaustion and worry, even in slumber. Ella squatted down before the child, after adjusting the blanket up over the mother’s shoulder.

  “You okay, Sal?” she asked.

  The little girl nodded, but her eyes looked wet. “Don’t cry,” Ella crooned. “Look at this, how lovely this is.”

  She took the little music box from the small cloth purse slung across her body. She pulled the string, and the tune began to play. “Raindrops keep falling on my head,” she sang, as the girl watched her wide-eyed. The mother’s eyes opened a crack. Ella pointed out the picture of the boy and girl with the umbrella over them. “See, they don’t care that it’s raining. They have an umbrella and each other. They’re happy. Do you know the song?”

  The girl shook her head, taking the box from Ella’s fingers and playing with the string, winding it over her fingers as it was slowly pulled back into the box. As Ella taught her the lyrics, and the mother picked them up, softly singing them, Wolf sank down on an empty cot, just listening.

  He wasn’t the only one watching Ella, though her attention was exclusively on the kid, one hand on her side, the other reaching out and clasping the mother’s. “There’s one thing I know, the blues they send to meet me, they won’t defeat me…”

  It won’t be long till happiness steps up to greet me. He wondered if she’d held the music box after the fire, and thought of the words, wondering if they were mocking her. That was how he’d felt for so long; like every song about love and happiness was mocking him.

  That is, until he pulled his head out of his ass and realized the truth. The world had moved on. Nothing was focused on his grief—except him.

  They were both quiet after they left the shelter, but in a contented kind of way. It was after midnight, so traffic was light. Wolf drove with her leaning against him again, his arm around her. The evening had filled in a lot of pieces about Ella for him, but he wanted one more.

  “How did you end up at Atlantis?”

  She left her head on his shoulder, spoke drowsily. “When I was hooking, soon after I did the rope bunny thing I told you about, I ran into this woman who was a pro-Domme. She liked me, told me I could assist her, and she’d pay me some money, give me a place to sleep. She said I was a ‘lovely little girl.’ She’d purr it, almost like a cat. Mistress Sonya. The more I saw of her world, her friends, the more I realized I was close to finding a place I could call home. Then one night, she took me to Club Atlantis, and I knew. That was home. I started helping out there, and eventually Anwyn let me come on staff.”

  She fidgeted, a sudden tension to her body. He noted she’d adjusted her head to stare out the passenger window. “I haven’t ever told Anwyn,” she said. “That I was a prostitute. I know I should have. Clubs like hers have to be so careful, to make sure nothing illegal happens at them, because there’s always somebody wanting to shut them down. I guess I was afraid if I told her I’d been a prostitute, she’d think I was looking to turn tricks in a safer place. Or if I was doing it for drugs, I’d bring in that element, you know. And I love it so much there. I loved it the first time I walked through the front doors.”

  He had, too. It was hard to explain why. He’d been to plenty of BDSM clubs across the world, but Club Atlantis was the first he’d visited run by a vampire, and one like Anwyn, who’d been in it as a human, and had a strong vision of what she wanted it to be—and didn’t want it to be.

  “You need to tell her,” he said. “It bothers you, not being honest with her. Trust her. I’ll be there with you when you tell her, if you want me to be. She knows you, Ella. She knows you would never do anything to harm her club. She’ll just give you shit for not telling her sooner.”

  “I guess. I mean, I know you’re right.” Her hand rested on his thigh, and she drew idle, thoughtful circles there. “You were really good with them,” she said at length. “The vets.”

  He made a noncommittal noise. Another pause. “Can you tell me…anything about it? Being one of them?”

  He expected she wanted to know, to better relate to the men when she was there. But he knew she also wanted to know more about who he was. It surprised the shit out of him that he wanted to talk about it, just a little. Probably Watt’s fault.

  His voice echoed in the darkness when he spoke. “When you become a soldier, you have a vision of yourself. When you go to war, depending on the way that war is fought, and for what purpose, and what you do during it…it changes you. Scrambles your sense of self, who you are, who you were, wanted to be. Sometimes in good ways, sometimes in bad. Sometimes you see things you can't ever forget. After that, even when you have a good moment or good day, or whatever it is in life, you can't…”

  He shook his head. “Have you seen The Untouchables? The Sean Connery, Kevin Costner film?”

  “Of course. The fabulous train scene with Andy Garcia catching the carriage.”

  He squeezed her. “Yeah. That was a good scene. But it’s like that line. ‘Some part of the world still cares what color the kitchen is.’ It’s actually t
he most freaking important thing in the world, the only thing that matters. But sometimes by the time you figure that out, you can’t feel it anymore, if that makes sense. You can’t reach that feeling anymore.”

  “Yeah.” Ella ran her fingertips up and down his thigh, thinking. “Wolf, will you tell me… Did you have a family?”

  “Yeah. I did. A wife and son.”

  “What happened?”

  Wolf stared out the windshield. He could tell her. Or not. “Another time. They’re gone.”

  “I’m sorry.” She paused. “You know what’s so weird about the adoption or foster kid thing? These people who want to be parents, they don’t know.” She tipped her head up, looked at his profile. “They make a baby, and he comes out, mint brand new. The kid may love his parents the way they hope he will, or he may not. But deep inside every foster kid is this huge well of love. It’s sometimes just buried under so much. We’re buried alive by what’s happened to us, the road we’ve had to walk, but under that, we want so, so, so badly to be loved in the way we imagine it was supposed to be.”

  She tucked her head down, laid it on his shoulder and continued, in a musing, quiet voice. “We already know half the chance of that ever happening is gone. Everyone wants their own kids, their own blood, like that alone guarantees the kid is going to love you, be something to be proud to call yours. I promised myself if ever anyone offered me love the way it was supposed to be, I would love them with three hundred percent of my heart, with every part of me. They would be so proud to call me theirs.”

  She lifted her face to him again, and now it was the face of a battle angel. “I wouldn’t care if they had warts and a hundred extra pounds, or looked like you. It’s their heart that matters. There are people who’ve said they loved me, like Lonnie, but I knew it wasn’t the real thing. Some kids, they get mixed up, or let themselves believe because they want it so desperately, and I did that a couple times, but I always knew, so when it was time to go, it was time to go.”

  He didn’t say anything to that, just ran his hand slowly up and down her arm, gripped. When she put her face against his shoulder, she pressed against it warmly to thank him for the affection.

  “Thank you for spending the evening with me, Master. It was the best night I’ve had in awhile.”

  He felt the same way.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It was Burlesque Night. All the other events she’d planned had come with their challenges, but this one was the most significant, for several reasons. First, it was a celebration of the re-opening of Atlantis, the repairs done in record time. Second, each of her events had built on the popularity and success of the last, so that this one, combined with the re-opening hype, had drawn the biggest crowd yet. She’d heard people were already lining up outside the doors for opening.

  “Lining the fuck up,” Lars had crowed, giving her a high five. “You go, girl!”

  Third…this was a performance situation, and not like being someone’s rope bunny. She would be out front and in the spotlight, the first solo act of Burlesque Night.

  Wolf was here tonight. For some absurd reason, that made her more nervous than the prospect of the crowds. He’d been busy since he’d arrived, though, only able to brush her mind with an affectionate greeting. This would be a challenging night for security, the first night they were “on” with all the new rules. While that would cause an expected amount of tension, she picked up on an additional note to it. As if something else was going on.

  She didn’t know what until she ran into Gideon, who had a grim look on his face. She was on her way to the lockers, but she laid a hand on his arm to stop him, shouldering her backpack and garment bag so they were out of her way. “Gideon, is everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” He gave her a decently reassuring look, but then he glanced around before he leaned in, spoke low. “The Region Master of this territory is coming to the opening tonight. A show of his support to Anwyn.”

  She assumed that meant a vampire of some kind of high rank. “Well, that’s good, right? He’s being supportive.”

  Gideon grimaced. “Yeah and no. Lord Richard isn’t a complete asshole as vampire Region Masters go, but vamps can be unpredictable. Then there’s a shit-ton of other pain in the ass protocols that happen when vampires congregate. I’ll explain later. Main thing is, nothing for you to worry about. Just…Wolf’s likely to make sure you steer way clear of him tonight, so you’re not seen as connected to him. There are reasons for that. Just follow his lead, do whatever he tells you up here.” He tapped his forehead. “Okay?”

  “Sure.”

  He gave her an additional look. “I mean it, Ella. It’s important.”

  “I promise. I’ll do whatever my Master tells me to do.” She showed him she meant it by meeting his eyes and tightening her hand on his arm. He had enough to worry about tonight.

  His expression eased enough for the familiar devilish twinkle to enter his gaze. “Any truth to the rumor that you’re going to sing a song dressed in nothing but a couple feathery fans?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “That’s Charlene. She’s doing an homage to Gypsy Rose. I’m doing something different.”

  Gideon’s radio beeped before he could goad her into revealing more. He glanced at it, then gave her a wink. “Saved by the bell. Guess I’ll have to find out like everyone else. Go get ‘em tonight.”

  He strode away, and she turned to watch him because, well, watching Gideon, coming or going, was always good for a woman’s cardio check. He’d dressed up tonight, for him. Nice dark blue jeans, a Club Atlantis black placket shirt. She puzzled over his words, but there was so much about the vampire world she didn’t know. She added another midday interrogation session with him to her to-do list. She’d bring cookies.

  She could ask Wolf, but the way he was so deliberately staying out of her head most of the time, and the fact he was a vampire, not a servant, suggested he might not have the same perspective Gideon had. Well, Gideon had said servants were like a union, and watched out for each other. No matter how ephemeral her and Wolf’s relationship might be, she was going to give him a hundred and twenty percent until it ended.

  She planned to show him that, as part of her performance tonight. Another reason for her nervousness. However, the only way to fix that was to move forward. Which meant she better get her ass in gear and get ready.

  An hour later, she stood in the shadows behind the black cloth partition that served as the stage wings. The whole performance part of the evening would last forty-five minutes, after which they’d clear the dance floor and let everyone break off into their preferred sessions or social activities.

  People could do that now, but apparently most of them wanted to see the show. The tables arranged for an audience were overflowing, and it was standing room only at the walls, the bar and the upper level mezzanines. She glimpsed new people as well as regulars, in all manner of dress, from club and fetish wear to casual.

  She closed her eyes, drew it in. Beneath it all, she found the heartbeat of Atlantis, that energy center that steadied her, told her she was home, no matter how many people were here. They were all connected, all wanting something marvelous that elevated them above the norm.

  She’d chosen the right song. She knew it. Simple but powerful. Something straight from her heart. And the funny thing was, when she’d chosen it for Burlesque Night, it had been before she’d become closer to Wolf. Tonight, the words would mean so much more to her than when she’d made the selection.

  She didn’t need him to promise her forever to see the sparkle of this moment. The air was full of sparkles.

  Wolf leaned against the back wall, watching the crowd. He knew Fort and Allan were on the outside perimeter, using their sharpened vampire senses to keep an eye on the crowd like bomb-sniffing dogs, detecting anything the least bit out of the ordinary. If they saw something, they’d signal the regular security team, who would pull the person out, question them, make sure they were legit. Saturnia and Hollo
w had the monitors and computer systems. All of them had their counterparts on Anwyn’s regular security teams working with them, putting into application the new procedures they’d had drilled into them.

  Anwyn had gone on radio shows over a week ago, taken out advertising spots there and in the Atlanta papers. “An explosion closed us down. We will open with a bang tonight, the kind that creates memories people don’t ever want to lose. Half price cover for the floor show. If you want to stay later after that, then you’re getting a deal, aren’t you? We will be open to guests, but that guest must have a member with them, or have been vetted at least three days in advance.

  “We’ve revamped our security, inside and out. Members will find entry is more complicated, but I hope they will understand why. I’d rather inconvenience someone for five minutes than risk harm to any of our people. And to anyone who thinks they will catch us off guard again? I’d reconsider that. You won’t win outside your weight class with us again.”

  Then her dagger-sharp tone had reverted to Southern magnolia. “Anyone who comes tonight and thinks what we have to offer isn’t worth the wait or price, I’ll double the price of your refund. But I’ll want to know why, so I can make your next trip to Club Atlantis more to your liking.”

  They’d received a slew of people to vet, Atlantis suddenly on the map as the hot place to be. They’d approved about a third of them, and had others in pending files for future consideration. Even with that whittling, they were going to be close to their maximum capacity. Anwyn anticipated, after a bit of gawking, the vanillas would head home or leave to take a late dinner at another Atlanta hot spot. The regular members and those interested in exploring their Dom/sub leanings would hang around. The latter were the new memberships she wanted.