As a pale-skinned, red-eyed aristocratic vamp wearing a blue pinstripe suit walked by with a blood-doll on each arm, Ruan grabbed Dante by the elbow. “What the hell’s going on? A vamp? This place is supposed to be therian-run.”
“Don’t tell me you think all vamps are honest and good misfits?” He laughed. “Where there’s money and power to be had, all kinds of creatures come out of the woodwork.” He nodded to a group of vamps seated in shadows in Section O across the way. “There’s probably an elder in that bunch trying to extinguish another and burn their shade a little brighter.” He nudged his chin at a row of packed seats near the bottom of the ring. “From the looks of it, there’s even a curiously wealthy mundane or two amongst us as well. If you look around hard enough you might even catch a celebrity or two. I caught Marilyn Manson in here once.” He held up his hands. “No joke.”
Two waitresses carting drinks and drugs slinked past, barely giving them a second look. It was a good thing the majority of staff had changed since Dante worked for Juan Carlos, otherwise their entrance might not have been as low key as he’d hoped. Looking around the room, Dante realized he only recognized two people: Bear at the door, and Violet slinking over with a tray of sin.
Taking in the elite workings of the place, Ruan swiped his hand over his mouth and pinched his bottom lip. “Holy hell.”
“Yup.” Dante nodded. “If it’s hell you sought, you came to the right place.”
Violet, a waif-thin blood-doll with spiky purple hair, breasts pushing out her corset top and bite marks littering her neck, zoned in on Ruan. She carried a pad of paper and an assortment of bloodlust-enhancing drugs on a tray, her elbow propped on her hip. “What can I get you, sugar?” she sang, winking at Dante as she snaked an arm around Ruan’s middle. “AB? X? Brunette?”
Blood, drugs, women. The three things that kept this place on the map.
Ruan slanted her a look. “How ‘bout a seat?”
Her color-drained lips parted into a smile as she walked toward the left quarter of the stadium. Her chain-wrapped boots clicked so loudly on the black stone floor, Dante barely heard her say, “Right this way,” before she led them to their seats.
Ruan followed first, his attention on the therian guards poised against the walls and the cameras high in the corners, instead of on the woman in front of him who’d willingly give her vein for the erotic rush of a single bite from any vamp in the place. She’d charge for her professional services, too, and be well worth the wallet drain—Dante knew first hand.
As Ruan sat down and breathed deeply, probably wondering how this place went undetected for so long, Dante took his seat, then asked Violet, “What’s on the schedule tonight?”
“You . . .” She knelt beside him, showing she was bare beneath her latex miniskirt. “Haven’t seen you in months. I’ve missed you,” she said, her fingers massaging his shoulder.
His cock twitched, remembering their romp on Juan Carlos’s desk last winter. She’d silenced the voices, all right. Gave him issues for damned near a month along with it. For weeks he couldn’t touch a woman without thinking of their sex-capade and had to resort to torturing his body other ways until his head cleared of her screams. There were some things that just shouldn’t be combined in his opinion: blood-drunk orgasms and self-mutilation being two of them.
Dante adjusted in his seat and clamped down the need rising in his gut. He could feel the intensity in his eyes, changing their color from muted yellow to swirling gold. The voices couldn’t surface just yet . . .
He got an idea—a way to get them to an elder and out without attracting unwanted therian attention. “Any available rooms tonight, Violet?”
Violet swiped her tongue over her lips, letting the pink tip linger in the corner. “Downstairs . . . room three is vacant. Want me to round up a couple friends? I remember how needy you were last time.”
Shaking his head, feeling Ruan’s eyes boring into him, Dante closed the flaps of his coat over his straining groin. “Let’s keep it me and you tonight. Give me five minutes and I’ll meet you there.”
She leaned over Dante’s lap until her breasts pressed heavily against his erection. “What about you, hot stuff?” she asked Ruan. “Whatcha into?”
Ruan kept his eyes on the center floor that was now lining with guards and robed attendees. Dante didn’t recognize a one of them. Must’ve been new recruits. Juan Carlos had been busy this season. Seats around the auditorium filled fast with the snobbiest elite of the paranormal races in the city. Shadows cloaked their identities . . . for the most part. It was clear to sense who was mundane, vamp, or therian, but faces and names remained anonymous. Until they made their final purchases at least. Whispers spread through the great room.
Ruan cleared his throat. “I’m just here to watch the show.”
She stroked Dante’s lap, a wicked gleam in her eye. “That’ll cost extra.”
As she rose, relieving the pressure in Dante’s groin, he grabbed her and dragged her back down. “Clear it out down there if you can,” he said, forcing desire to rise in his eyes. How long had it been since a woman drove him mad with need—more than physically? He’d been filled with pure primal need to silence the voices within for so long, he wasn’t sure it was possible anymore. There’d never be anything sensual or sacred. Nothing to beat life back into his heart. It was damn pathetic. “For what I plan to do to you tonight we’ll need some privacy. We wouldn’t want anyone to hear your screams, now, would we?”
Violet’s heartbeat fluttered wildly on her neck. Her cheeks flushed with pleasure. He didn’t have to run a hand between her thighs to know she was wet and willing. “I’ll see what I can do,” she purred. “See you in five.”
When she was around the corner and out of earshot, Ruan leaned over and whispered, “Not that I’m trying to cock-block the move you’re making here, but now’s hardly the time.” His voice was so low, Dante could barely make out his words.
Dante kept his eyes on the floor. “They keep the cargo downstairs. If Violet can clear the guards out, we may have a chance of getting one-on-one time with an elder before the bidding starts. If we can avoid calling attention to ourselves, that’s what we want to do.”
“How the devil do you know all this?”
Dante sighed heavily. “I used to work for Juan Carlos. When this operation first got up and running, I needed a job with some action and he needed someone with sketchy morals.” To say the least. “The requirements matched up so I did his dirty work for awhile. I hunted elders, tracked them, watched them, and documented their mawares, until he decided their time was up and he could get the most bang for his buck. I quit right after they moved the market to this place.”
Ruan’s gaze sank into the shadows on the far side of the grand room. “You’ve got quite the resume. Does he, or anyone else here, know what you’re capable of?”
Back to the teleporting gig. “Are you kidding?” he whispered. “If Juan Carlos got wind of that, I’d be chained down in his basement with the next elder wave. No, everyone I’ve ever told is dead . . . except you.”
“I appreciate the addition of the last part, by the way.” Ruan looked like he was teeming with questions. Like they were pushing right against his lips . . . but he held them back. “So what if your girl Violet can’t clear out the guards downstairs?”
“Then we start bidding. But do you see those therians over there?” He nodded sideways to the goon squad against the wall who were new and eager to use the guns on their belts. “The instant we make our payment, they’ll know who you are and which elder you purchased. That’s more info than we’re willing to give.”
A muscle-bound therian in an Armani suit and tie squeezed by them, taking the seat to Ruan’s right. A waitress, head to toe in vinyl with flowing black hair and a gagging amount of perfume, sat on his lap, tousling his hair with long manicured fingers. Oh, she was taking his order all
right.
“Fine,” Ruan whispered, shooting a sideways glance to the vamps within earshot. “But if things go to hell in a handbasket, I expect you to perform your Houdini act with the elder, go somewhere private, lose any tails, and hold tight until tomorrow night.”
“What about you?” Dante asked.
“I’ll work my own way out and meet you back at ReVamp after the dust settles.” Ruan pulled down the rim on his hat and lowered his voice further.
Dante dragged his attention to an aristocratic-looking vamp in a chocolate brown suit and tie in the center of the floor. “Here we go. A few rotations, a few sales, and we’re right down to business.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“The Who? and What? are clear-cut. It’s the Why? that gets messy.”
Dealing with Blood Addiction: A Guidebook
“GENTLEMEN,” THE THERIAN MC began, his accent rich. “I’m Juan Carlos, your host, and I must say that tonight is a very special night!”
Applause, whistles, and high-pitched hisses consumed the warehouse.
Ruan shot Dante a wary look. “You said this place was low-key.”
“It’s always a special night,” Dante said under his breath. “They always manage to pull an elder out of their hat who has a maware we’ve never seen. A novelty, if you will, that brings in high bids for the house.”
“Wonder how many they managed to find for tonight’s slate.”
Juan opened his arms spread-eagle. His greasy black hair glistened beneath the overhead lights. His thin frame oozed weakness and youth while his clothes and demeanor screamed money and power. Dante swallowed down the bile in his throat. “Tonight we have someone special in our midst. Someone we’ve never had paraded in front of us before. Get your bidding ribbons ready . . .”
Great. Who’d they come up with now? A fabled elder with two mawares? A two-headed elder? The elder from the black lagoon?
“Tonight, gentlemen, we have someone who’s going to start our bidding higher than it’s ever been. Tonight we have someone who will raise the roof off this place. Tonight we have someone whose maware is still masked. Tonight, gentlemen, we have,” Juan paused, measuring the anticipation in the room. “Tonight we have a virgin in our midst!”
Gasps rang out, followed by whoops and hollers. Ruan clapped slowly. “What a crock,” he mumbled. “Like an elder’s gonna walk this earth for hundreds of years and save herself. Can’t believe these vamps are buying into it.”
Dante checked the stairs to the basement behind him. Two elders, probably the most valuable of their stock, had filed out, their identities hidden by heavily hooded cloaks, armed guards on their heels. The lights flowing from downstairs dimmed. Time was up. Violet was waiting to be bloodied within an inch of her life just so he’d bite her on her damned pleasure spot. Here came that bile uprising again . . .
Dante wondered how many more elders were down there. One? Maybe two? He’d never seen them sink their claws on more than a few at a time.
“You know what I don’t get?” Ruan said, as the two cloaked elders lined up against the far side of the floor, their ankles and wrists shackled together with some sort of thin glowing band. “Why can’t they use their mawares to get themselves out of this mess? I mean, one of the main reasons vamps don’t think the elder black market ever existed is because elders are powerful beings. How’d they manage to let themselves get caught and brought here?”
“These elders are young. Newly transitioned. They haven’t come into their full mawares yet and often make themselves easy targets as they try to discover and test them. See those bands on their wrists and ankles? That allows them to move freely, yet prevents them from using their mawares; they’re reduced to weak mundanes. Remember the maware that prevented you from seeing this place?”
Ruan nodded, his emerald eyes blazing beneath the rim of his baseball hat.
“About a hundred years ago the same powerful elder cast a spell that not only prevented elders from using mawares in the building, but expanded it to a ten-mile radius of the grounds. That’s why there’s no return policy once you leave the building. If your own purchase kills you, the market bears no responsibility.”
Ruan folded his arms. “Why would an elder do something like hindering the mawares of their kin, something that would jeopardize the strength of her own . . .” His eyes widened with realization. “ . . . unless he or she wanted a way to gather them together and control them . . . to be the one elder holding all the power . . .”
Dante returned his attention to the empty stairwell. “I’m gonna let your wheels turn while I go and make sure the basement’s ready to go. I’ll text you when the coast is clear.”
Dante slid out of his seat and barely heard Ruan’s “got it” before Juan Carlos piped up.
“Our first sale has arrived on the floor!” he boomed, as if he had an amp backing him up. “Behold the virgin. The beauty. Isn’t she everything I promised you? We’re going to start our bidding at one hundred thousand dollars.”
Red Ribbons shot into the air—bidders already making their intentions known. They hadn’t even seen the mystical elder or learned what she could do! She could be a grotesque old bat with pinchers for teeth and a wavering maware for all they knew. Fools.
The crowd rose to their feet to see the beautiful virginal elder in their midst. The walkway behind Dante’s chair filled before he could get very far. He weaved in and out of hungry vamps and twitchy therians, slamming shoulders right and left to get by. They raised their bidding ribbons as he passed, their prize still cloaked.
Juan Carlos hadn’t moved the bid higher than the initial starting point of one hundred thousand. Clearly he was waiting to see the hype to know just how high the virgin could get the bids.
Dante knew the instant the virgin’s cloak was removed, as the entire warehouse quieted.
Men caught their breath and stood motionless. Air stilled. Every pair of eyes in the room focused on the center floor. Even the red-headed blood-doll waitress in the corner turned mid-order and stared. Dante couldn’t help but wonder what was so special about the virginal elder that had the place still as a tomb.
As he squeezed between a wall of onlookers and stared down at the wide stone floor, he gasped. She wasn’t like any elder he’d ever seen, and he’d tracked more than he could count over the years.
From a distance, Dante could see why this elder had remained a virgin through the ages. There was nothing seductive about her. At least nothing that Dante could see through the crimson-red cloak she wore. No round, ample breasts or wide, grab-em-and-ride-em hips. In fact, the robe fell from her shoulders straight to the floor. There was no come-hither gleam in her eye that grabbed him from afar or luscious ruby-red lips that begged to be suckled, either. Although her features were petite and feminine—with a small button nose, thin lips, and high cheekbones—she was pretty, but . . . plain. Small breasts hidden beneath heavy fabric. Tiny hands stuck out through the cloak’s sleeves. Long brown hair tied into a single braid slid over her right shoulder down the front of the robe. She looked ordinary, naïve, and very young; no older than twenty-five.
Juan Carlos whistled over the dissention of the crowd. They were expecting elder perfection. Mind-spinning beautiful. “Might I remind you she’s a virgin and we have rooms for rent downstairs after tonight’s festivities!”
Despite the woman’s average appearance and the hefty price tag over her head, it seemed elder cherries were too rare to resist. Aristocrats, vampires, mundanes, and therians alike gathered near the center floor, ready to bid. Dante dodged through a few blood-dolls and around a muscle-bound guard, and headed straight for the stairwell.
“Gentlemen,” Juan Carlos announced. “Who among us will start the bidding?”
Ribbons flew through the room.
“One—two—three hundred thousand!” Juan Carlos yelled excitedly above the bustling bi
dders. “Three and a half to the therian in the corner! Can I get a solid four?” The crowd mumbled. “Gentlemen, this elder is the purest on record. Her temple has never been breached. Her blood would be just as pure. Who could turn away such a delicious snack for a measly four hundred thousand? Look to your pocketbooks, gentlemen. This broad is worth the stretch!”
A scratchy voice boomed, “One million dollars,” from the far back.
All eyes, including Dante’s, shot to the shadows. He’d never heard of a bid flying that high.
Juan Carlos yelled, “Sold! One million to the therian in back!”
Mumbling in disbelief, bidders slowly returned to their seats to wait for the next elder whose price tag certainly wouldn’t match the sky-high million they’d just witnessed. Shaking his head, Dante spun around a short, squatty therian and made a bee line toward the stairs. A million-dollar bid was the perfect distraction Dante needed to slip down to the basement undetected.
“State your name for your new owner, elder,” Juan Carlos commanded, high and mightily.
Silence.
Keeping his eyes on the stairwell and off the elder center stage, Dante pushed through two bulky vamps who were keeping a close eye on the shadows, then slinked past another two. Another few steps and he’d be down the stairs, into the dark, and out of sight.
“I told you to state your name, elder!” Juan Carlos yelled from the main floor. “Disobedience will not be tolerated in this house.”
The crisp sound of open hand to cheek stung Dante’s ears. His feet slowed to a halt. His gaze remained fixed on the stairs, his mind on his mission. From the sound of it, Juan Carlos had smacked the virginal elder clean across the face. The crowd applauded. Every eye and ear seemed to be watching, listening, murmuring.
Vamped Up Page 18
