Silent Cravings

by E. Blix

  “Get your feet off the table!”

  Reece muttered under his breath and dropped his combat boots to the floor, crossing his legs without looking up from the mag.

  Ken flapped his hand at him in annoyance, which went ignored, then continued into the bathroom. To Christoph and Ashi’s eyes, it was like walking into a high-class restroom in some swanky hotel or restaurant, except with a lot more variety in the lotions and creams. Maybe a few more mirrors, too.

  “Sit,” he demanded, “helping” Christoph onto the toilet with a hand on his shoulder. He selected five different products from a cabinet, putting them in easy reach. He thrust cologne at Ashi, then wet his hands in the sink and ran his fingers through Christoph’s hair.

  “Good lord, do you ever run a brush through this?”

  “It eats brushes,” Christoph protested. “I swear it devoured a man once. At SuperCuts they have to drown it to senselessness before they even get near it. Most shampoo screams and runs from it.”

  “You don’t use shampoo,” Ashi pointed out.

  “Exactly!” At Ken’s wide-eyed look, he quickly explained, “I wash it, seriously. Bar of soap, lather up your hands—” Christoph mimed scrubbing his hair.

  When Ken turned to Ashi, speechless, the smaller man nodded. “That’s the way I do it. Shampoo is expensive, and it has a strong scent.” Ashi said, then held up the bottle Ken had handed him. “Also, what am I supposed to do with this?”

  “I think we broke Ken,” Christoph said, looking up at the vampire, who was absolutely aghast.

  “You… you heathens!” he exclaimed. “God… SuperCuts? Bar soap?”

  Shuddering, he twisted around, pointing to the bottle in Ashi’s hands, deciding he would ignore their barbaric ways—just for tonight.

  “Spray some on one wrist, then rub your wrists together. Don’t get it on your shirt, for God’s sake.”

  He was so mad, he’d even lost some of his lisp.

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph… You are getting a haircut after tonight. Would that I had enough time!”

  Growling savagely under his breath, Ken proceeded to attack Christoph’s hair with some leave-in conditioner, finger-combing the tangles before graduating to using a pick. Followed by a brush. Followed by a comb.

  Next he grabbed some kind of cream, introducing new tangles as he scrubbed it into Christoph’s hair. Pick. Brush. Comb.

  Followed by a second cream. Rinse, repeat.

  Frown. Not enough.

  More water, a little bit of some kind of lotion. A few savage attacks with the comb in places.

  Finally, a smile.

  “Much better. Almost done.”

  The wild, tangled mass of curls was actually… gone. Christoph’s hair was straight. Poufy, perhaps, but nothing like it had been fifteen minutes ago now that it was neatly brushed back until it reached his shoulders. Only hints of its former, riotous nature remained at the tips.

  Ken grabbed a bottle, an oily, sweet-smelling liquid squirting out, making Christoph flinch. Ken lightly ran his fingers one last time through Christoph’s hair, slicking it back, smoothing it out, and giving it a lustrous shine it never had before.

  “Ta-da-a-a-a! I’d dare say the beast has been tamed!” He paused. “That is not as bad as I was afraid it would be.”

  Ashi stared at Christoph. “Holy shit, you look like a model.”

  Christoph tentatively touched his hair. Ken slapped the hand away.

  “I’m afraid to look.”

  Ashi put some of the cologne on his wrists and rubbed them together. “We don’t use this stuff. Smell you coming from a mile off.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been called a heathen for bar soap,” Christoph muttered. He kept blowing at the strands on the side of his face. “It’s great for cutting up, too. Then everyone can have their own little bar.”

  “You’re scaring the vampire,” Ashi said, sniffing his wrists. He sneezed.

  “Scent is a key factor, boys. You want to be remembered. You’ll have to get your own after tonight, but for now, you can use mine. It makes the first impression last when every part of you is as fab as Christoph’s hair.”

  He grinned and lightly slapped Christoph on the shoulder. Even the inhuman bit about sharing a bar of soap for their toiletries couldn’t get him down.

  “Put on some cologne,” he said to Christoph, reaching out to adjust the collar of his shirt. Crooking a finger, he sauntered out of the bathroom, inordinately pleased with himself.

  Reece glanced at them over the top of his mag, eyes widening and giving a low whistle.

  “Very nice. Sweets, if you ever get tired of Mouse, you know where to find me. Day-um!”

  Ken smirked. “Let’s go, honey. Time to knock ʼem dead!”

  Reece got up, giving both Weres appraising looks. Ken led the way to the car, head high and his arm linked in Reece’s.

  Christoph jokingly tried to link his arm in Ashi’s but was thwarted by Ashi’s thumb jamming into a pressure point on his elbow. He cradled the arm as they climbed into the backseat of the car.

  “If we ever make it back to California alive,” Ashi muttered, “we will never speak of this.”

  Christoph nodded and the two crawled into the backseat of Ken’s BMW.

  Ashi sat back, staring at the car’s roof. “Of all the places I expected to wind up, this wasn’t one of them.” He picked at the BSoE under his shirt. “This thing is driving me crazy.”

  “It could be worse.”

  “No, it really can’t.”

  “It could be all you’re wearing.”

  Ashi couldn’t deliver a flying kick inside a car, but it didn’t stop him from trying.

  “Now, now, children,” Ken chided, “let’s not destroy the nice leather interior of the Beemer, ’kay?”

  “This is going to be good,” Reece murmured, grinning to himself.

  It didn’t take long to get to the club. It was too early for anyone but employees. Ken pulled into the back lot, waved in by security. A guy who rivaled Christoph in size and muscle-mass opened the door for them, giving a cheerful wave.

  “Hey, Ken.”

  “Hey, Roger. Be extra vigilant tonight, I’m expecting an influx of fangirls.”

  The guy looked a little nonplussed until Ashi and Christoph got out of the car. He nodded sagely in sudden understanding, a slow grin curving his lips. “You got it, boss.”

  They made their way inside, passing through the backstage and storage areas. When they emerged onto a huge dance floor, a sound tech was fiddling with equipment, and a couple of people were behind the bar across the room, stocking shelves. Harsh halogen lit the black-painted walls and reflected in odd, prismatic colors off the slick, shiny floor.

  There were a couple of honest-to-God shark cages on the floor, strung with silver chains, handcuffs, and black and silver feather boas.

  Ken frowned.

  “Who the hell put those on there? Honestly, people!”

  Soft snickers came from the shadows, the bar, and even the stage. Exasperated, Ken stalked over and removed the boas from the bars while Reece smothered laughter and turned to the Weres.

  “Here’s the deal, guys. You aren’t going to mingle with the crowd. You’ll be suspended above the dance floor for a couple hours, then someone will switch out with you and you’ll come to the stage for a group set. In the meantime, just smile, move around like I showed you yesterday, and start sliding those shirts off at the cue. Ken will bring you on stage and welcome you in front of the crowd later in the evening, so blow some kisses or something to get them worked up before you go. Got it?”

  Ashi’s jaw packed its bags and headed south in a hurry.

  Christoph was bouncing from foot to foot. “I would call this ‘stage frigh
t’ but I think ‘pure, unadulterated terror’ describes what I’m feeling with a little more depth.”

  “I am not going in a cage,” Ashi snarled.

  Christoph was still bouncing. “I can feel all the blood leaving my head.”

  “I am so serious right now. I am not going in a cage.”

  “It’s like a closet with air holes. You’ll be fine,” Christoph said.

  “I don’t think you heard me—”

  Christoph suddenly grabbed Ashi by the front of his shirt. “Look at me, you son of a bitch. I am a warrior of Goliath and I am about to dance like a god-damned circus bear for the sake of humans because of you. So either you follow suit and shake that thang like there’s no tomorrow in your nice little cage, or I will kill you, right here, right now, where we stand. I have no problems with killing. I gained this rank for a reason and that reason has been proven in battle again and again. I rip people apart, and I like doing it, so don’t think you’re above that. Not anymore. Got that, Ashi?”

  Ashi stared mutely at Christoph. After a few seconds he nodded stiffly. Reece watched with a raised brow, impressed.

  “Good. Now you pay attention to Reece and don’t screw up.”

  “Me-yow.” Came a low, throaty voice from Christoph’s side. “Hey, new guy, save the aggression for the show, eh?”

  “Hi, Joy,” Reece muttered, edging away.

  Joy was a tall, slender woman with jet black hair tied out of her angular face in a high, tight ponytail. Her almond eyes were a vivid, icy blue, made more startling thanks to the heavy eyeliner and copious use of mascara. Every line and curve of her body was shown to advantage in a skintight latex cat suit. Her calf-high boots had stiletto heels so high, it was a wonder she didn’t fall and break her ass when she sidled over. Tiny chains dangled around her wrists, fingers, neck, and from her earrings, jingling merrily as she trailed one lacquered fingernail down Christoph’s back, licking her red-painted lips as she did it.

  “Very nice. Where’d you dig this one up?”

  Ken came up behind her, a firm hand at the small of her back sending her stumbling toward the stage. “Hands off, kitty cat. That’s Mouse’s new toy.”

  She pouted, sulking off toward the stage. “Should’ve known he was taken. They always are.”

  Ken leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, “If you value your skin, stay away from that one. I hear she’s real rough-and-tumble in the sack. You can thank me later.”

  Ashi watched Joy as she walked off. “Ugerkert.”

  Christoph choked and tried to punch Ashi, but the other Were darted out of the way. At Ken’s perplexed look, Christoph shook his head.

  “It’s pack slang. It means…uh…‘dominant female’.”

  “It means ‘woman with a di—’”

  Christoph swung at him again. Ashi dodged and grinned, but there wasn’t much humor in it.

  “You are such an asshole,” Christoph grumbled. “You don’t say that kind of shit.” He looked at Ken. “Sorry.”

  Ken shrugged. “No need to apologize. Everyone here thinks she’s a brass-bound bitch, me included. If she wasn’t John’s donor, and so goddamned good at working the crowd, we would’ve fired her a long time ago.”

  “I heard that!”

  “I meant every word!”

  “Good.”

  “Anyway,” he continued as if that little exchange hadn’t happened, “you should grab a couple bottles of water so you don’t get dehydrated up there.”

  Christoph went to get water, leaving Ashi standing awkwardly with Ken. Ashi swung his arms, looking around the room. Definitely a change of pace from what he was used to. He’d never been in a club before now. As soon as Christoph came back, he took a bottle.

  “I’m the master of a dojo,” Ashi said, breaking the seal.

  “Congratulations. I’m sure that makes you feel important,” Christoph answered.

  “I got that way by being better than everyone.”

  “I suppose that’s generally the definition of a master.”

  “I can’t believe I’m here.”

  Christoph reached over and ruffled Ashi’s hair. It was very fine hair, but also very thick. As soon as Christoph removed his hand, Ashi’s hair poufed into a black fuzzball.

  “I’m sure you’ll do just fine,” Christoph said in a condescending tone of voice. “If you need to hold someone’s hand later, I’m sure Joy can help you with that.”

  Ashi tried to get his hair to lay relatively flat. “Do you know that I love it when my students get uppity with me?”

  Christoph opened his bottle and took a sip of water. “Why’s that?”

  “I get to do this.”

  Ashi took a step toward Christoph and hit him in three places on his back with the first two fingers of his right hand. Christoph jumped, then contorted painfully, spilling water all over his front.

  “Mother fucker!”

  He lunged at Ashi with murderous intent. Ashi ran for the nearest cage, shutting himself in. Christoph grabbed the bars and shook it, snarling. Ashi laughed at him as he raged.

  Ken clapped his hands sharply.

  “All right, enough of that! Damn it, Christoph, I don’t know if we have another shirt for you. Go use the hand-dryer in the bathroom. We’ve got less than twenty minutes before the doors open. Hurry!”

  Once again, the peanut gallery was sniggering at their antics. Ken went back to directing a few changes in the setup while five people got up on the stage and started doing a rapid last-minute rehearsal. One of the dancers was Reece, dressed in his white leather, paired up with a woman dressed in a similar outfit done in black. Across from them was a similar pair, except the guy was in black, the woman in white. Center stage was Joy’s domain.

  While everyone was provocative, Joy put the supernatural grace and sexuality of the vampires to shame.

  Nobody seemed much impressed by it, and Reece even stopped to (quite gleefully) correct something she was doing. In a few minutes, they were all moving in flawless synchronization to a heavy techno beat.

  Christoph stormed off to the bathroom, grumbling. Ashi made a mental note to stay away from him for a while. Christoph could take hits and keep on coming, and his mass and speed made him an opponent to be respected.

  Crouched at the bottom of the cage, Ashi had time to reflect on his current situation. Definitely not what he had expected a vampire’s empire would be like. The donors were in good spirits, but not in a zombie-like Stepford way. He had legitimate businesses, not terrifying pits of mayhem, blood, and death.

  It was really tweaking Ashi’s head. Sitting in a cage waiting to dance like a monkey above the heads of humans wasn’t helping.

  As soon as Christoph came back, he was ushered into the other cage, Ken despairing over the wrinkles in his shirt. The lights dimmed, strobes and the occasional black light flickered while an odd collage of provocative Gothic images whirled over the screen behind the stage. The music was deep, throbbing, and heavy on the bass. People soon flooded into the room, spilling onto the dance floor and lining up at the bar. Within minutes of opening, it was packed wall to wall, even on the second- and third-floor catwalks.

  A great many of the men wore leather and latex. Most of the women were dressed in clothing so scanty it could barely be called that. Some blatantly wore lingerie, strutting around in heels and garters. Christoph spotted one in a fishnet shirt with hot pink “X”s taped over her nipples.

  Even scarier was the fat, hairy guy in the Catholic school girl outfit, grinning at everyone through his beard.

  Most of the patrons were having a good time, laughing, dancing, drinking, and flirting. A handful were dark, moody, and looked like they should be carrying copies of an Anne Rice novel in the back pockets of their trench coats. They slunk around the edges of the cro
wd, trying desperately to both fit in and yet stand out in the crowd.

  A few girls, and even a couple of guys, gave piercing squeals of delight when they spotted Ashi and Christoph, shouting anything from words of encouragement to blatant offers to meet them after work.

  Thankfully, much of this was drowned out by the pounding music.

  As the first song of the night wound down, the stage dancers took their places. The strobes dimmed and winding, rotating spotlights followed their movements as they started whirling to a fast, heavily remixed version of “Sexy Back.” The crowd gave a spattering of laughter and hoots and jeers while the performers got moving, backlit by a risqué video on the screen behind them.

  Their provocative gyrations worked the crowd into a frenzy, many pressing closer to the stage and calling to their favorites. The choreography was flawless, not one of the performers distracted by all the screaming and hollering and waving hands. With the way Reece ran his hands over his partner’s body, you’d never have guessed his sexual orientation. All for the crowd, of course.

  Christoph had danced before. Not this kind of dancing, but at least he knew how to move. He’d also been in situations with bad or varied lighting, usually trying to kill someone, so he wasn’t bothered by the strobes. It wasn’t the most comfortable situation, but he liked being around people and right now they were paying attention to him. For a pack animal, it was a very gratifying experience.

  Ashi, on the other hand, had never danced before. He avoided crowds. He had never been in a situation with varied light.

  Strobes blinded Goliaths. The massive Weres had evolved to work in darkness as they hunted vampires. In a situation where there was light and darkness, their eyes adjusted to the darkness faster than the light. When a strobe was on, their pupils dilated to make up for the contrast. Whenever the strobe flashed, they were blinded.