The Protectors: The Blood Bar Chronicles, Book 2

by Chellie Edwards

  So she was making her way to the Blood Bar.

  The name of the bar made her laugh, and she imagined a dark and dreary place, with secluded booths, red carpet, and seedy velvet patterned wallpaper. Her thoughts added more excitement to the name, and Amilian ordered herself to get a grip and find the bar before the rain soaked her through to the bone.

  She looked farther down the street where a neon light blinked at her. Straining hard to read the sign, she quickened her pace. Seriously? Amilian pondered as the closer view confirmed her thoughts. The sign for the Blood Bar flashed at her.

  The song her nephew always sung to her came to mind. “Red is for danger, red is what I said.” Where did that come from? No answer came to mind, though she still contemplated the flashing light ahead. Is it a warning? If she believed in precognition, she would have about turned and ran, but Amilian worked in a library. She was sensible, and people who claimed to have psychic abilities were nothing more than glorified con artists.

  The door to the bar was quite heavy and took both hands to open it. She gave the door a big shove and let go, giving herself enough time to scoot through. The door banged closed behind her. Talk about drawing attention to yourself, she thought. Amilian stood just inside the door and looked up to a sea of eyes, all focused on her. The door closing had obviously interrupted them. She stood taller and shot the men at the bar a look with raised eyebrows as if to say, problem? Amilian was grateful when they turned back to their conversations and drinks without any further fuss. Amilian showed her relief by rolling her eyes and shaking her head. She took off her knee-length black rain coat and flicked her sandy blonde hair over one shoulder. Her long legs were hidden by shiny black tights that were encased in a short, black Lycra skirt. The white fitted shirt she wore was buttoned to her bust where the V-neck showed her cleavage off to perfection.

  Amilian gave a quick scan of the room to find it wasn’t far off what she had envisioned. Dark, secluded booths, though the carpet wasn’t quite as blood-red as she anticipated. There were tables and a dance floor to her right with the bar straight ahead. The place was busy with a mix of customers. Some were dressed in smart cloths, while others… well, their attire was a little less concealing to say the least. She had never heard of this bar before, despite living close by on the other side of the town.

  Her attention was drawn to the man sitting at the table in the corner to her right. His streaky blond hair fell to his shoulders meeting a stone-colored T-shirt. Around his neck hung a black threaded necklace with a pendant that rested within the V of his shirt. His intense eyes were fixed on hers. His strong jaw line, covered by his five o’clock shadow, gave him a very rough-and-ready look. She couldn’t help but melt into his gaze as his lips turned into a grin, making her heart race. Very aware of the instant attraction between them, Amilian smiled back at him, hoping to spur him on and thanking her lucky stars that she just might be in with a chance.

  Not being the type of girl to make things easy for a man, Amilian looked away from his lustrous gaze and walked toward the bar. It was the sound of laughter that drew her attention to the left. Ahead was table of ladies all in giggles and two wine bottles on the table. The party had started without her.

  Relieved she had the right place, she glanced back to see that Mr. Man was gone. She scanned the room to find him but was met with disappointment. More laughter brought her attention back to the table of friends, and she headed toward them.

  Amilian greeted Ana, Arielle, Kayla, Josie, and Noelle with a kiss, then sat down. Ana was already deep in conversation about her mother putting a guilt trip on her for leaving Ireland, and the others were doing their best to console her. There was a blonde Barbie doll look-alike whom she didn’t recognize. Kayla introduced the lady as Tavvy.

  “Have some,” Kayla offered as she shoved her wineglass in Amilian’s face.

  “Thanks,” she said in appreciation, then took a large swig. “It’s my turn to grab a bottle. Same again?” she asked the ladies. As they nodded their approval, she stood up and went to the bar.

  Amilian could swear she was being watched. The atmosphere in the bar was making her feel very uneasy, though she couldn’t put her finger on why. Because you never go out, that’s why. Her conscience begged to be heard. At the bar she did her best to get the attendants’ attention. She didn’t have to wait long before his tall, skinny body strolled over toward her.

  “What can I get you?” he questioned, with a far too familiar tone and wanting smile aimed at her cleavage. It always made her laugh when men talked to her boobs, thinking they stood a chance. She wasn’t bigheaded, but she knew she was attractive and could pretty well choose any man with a working dick. She just wasn’t the type to have a one-night stand. She was looking for someone who would cherish her.

  “A bottle of house red, please,” she said. As the barman turned away to get her order, she saw him again. The man who had been sitting at the table as she came in now stood at the end of the bar. Being so close to him—the bar was only about three meters long at most—she was able to see him very clearly.

  He was more than average height. Despite leaning on the bar he was still inches above most heads. The light blue faded jeans he wore emphasized his long legs, and his T-shirt clung to his chest, where her gaze was drawn to his muscular pectorals. Now she was being a hypocrite, but hey, he was a sight worth doing time for.

  He stared straight at her. Heat rose in her already cheeks, and Amilian was unable to hide her attraction to him. If she was being honest, she wasn’t even trying. The man was very toned, and he looked every ounce as strong.

  “Six pound eighty, sweetheart.” The voice took her attention away from Mr. Man. She looked at the barman with a blank expression, because he repeated the price of the bottle and pushed it under her nose.

  “Oh, yeah, right,” she replied, frantically pulling a ten pound note from her purse. She turned back to the end of the bar for Mr. Man, but he was gone again.

  Disappointment didn’t even come close to describing how she felt. She was about to walk away from the bar when the barman said, “Your change, love,” in a mocking tone.

  As if she would forget her change!

  She snatched her change, taking her irritation out on him. Without bothering to check her change, she pushed it into her purse and grabbed the bottle from the bar. As she turned around, she went headfirst into a very hard chest and stumbled back a few steps.

  “Easy, tiger,” a deep, husky voice said that set the hairs on Amilian’s skin on end. She almost didn’t want to look up in case it wasn’t who she so desperately wanted it to be. Curiosity got the better of her, and she did. Her eyes met one piercing blue eye and one yellow.

  Amilian was so transfixed with the color of his eyes that she couldn’t even mutter an apology for walking right into him. His laugh confused her.

  “Scaring women to the point of not speaking is not something I consider myself renowned for,” he teased. The thought of him thinking she was afraid didn’t sit right with her.

  “I’m not afraid,” she said. Amilian straightened her back and pulled her shoulders in line to appear taller. She had no idea why she did that as he towered her by a good six inches at a guess.

  “No, then what?” he asked, with a smile that reached his eyes. He was playing games. She knew it, but for some reason, she couldn’t help herself.

  She stepped right up to him, pressing her now hard nipples against his chest. Her lips were an inch away from his, at most, as she whispered flirtatiously, “I’m not afraid of you.”

  His breath caught as she leaned closer to his lips, and he closed his eyes, thinking he was about to be kissed. But she stopped and pulled back.

  The stunned look on his face was the result she had hoped for. Amilian couldn’t compete with his height, but she could match up to his game, and that was enough for her. She looked right into his eyes with a suggestive smiled, and teased, “I have to get back to my friends, so if you’ll excuse me.”
With that, she stepped around him and walked back to the table, ensuring her backside swayed with every step.

  ***

  Morgan couldn’t help grinning after her as he watched the way she walked. Her long, legs, topped off by a perfect curved ass. How he wished his hands could grip her pert backside, that swayed as she walked. He was certain of it. Oh yes, my alpha, you have spice. Now all he had to do was convince her she was his. The temptation to go after her was overwhelming, but before he had time to follow, she had already reached the table.

  ***

  Amilian found them all giggling again. Dizzy had also arrived, bringing the night to life with her infectious laugh, and Amilian had a feeling she was going to have a night to remember. She tried hard to join in the conversation, but her mind was distracted. Over Tavvy’s shoulder, who sat opposite her, she could just make out Mr. Man. He was propped up against the bar, watching her. With satisfaction spread across her face and butterflies in her stomach, she turned her attention back to the table. It’s his turn to make the move now.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Devonte was doing the rounds as usual, though most of his attention was directed at the table of ladies. Until he saw him. Devonte gave him the onceover. His arms looked strong, and his back perfectly shaped, as he followed his spine down to the pertness of his arse. An arse, he was certain, had taken more dicks than he had. Experience told Devonte he was looking at a werewolf, and sexual desire aroused him to the point of a semi-hard-on.

  Not that Devonte cared much about his current predicament. After a quick adjustment, his tight trousers held his dick in place. Despite the fact that he should have been working, Devonte couldn’t resist the urge to introduce himself. He watched the man while a lady was talking to him. He couldn’t see what was said in reply, as the man had his back to Devonte. But given the way she left him, he guessed she had just been told, “No thanks.” She was stunning, so the very fact the man had turned her down gave Devonte the confirmation he was looking for. With new found confidence, Devonte walked closer to him.

  Devonte considered himself a practical man, more of a hands-on guy as opposed to a talker, and sometimes, there was no need for words. He approached his target, weaving through the crowd. He walked right up behind him, placed both of his hands on the man’s waist, and pulled him backward onto his hardness. Then he let the man go and stepped around to face him. The move was so quick, that to most people, it would have appeared he was just moving him aside to get past.

  The look on the man’s face as Devonte faced him made his confidence vanish in a flash. Shit, he thought to himself. He was so sure he was gay. Devonte had to play it cool.

  “Sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

  The smile he received in return confused Devonte but also gave him a flicker of hope.

  “And there was me thinking you were giving me the come on,” the equally tall stranger replied with such directness, Devonte felt he had found his match.

  Giving him his best seductive smile, he held out his hand to introduce himself. “I’m Devonte, though most people call me Dev.”

  “I’m Morgan,” he replied, gripping Devonte’s hand briefly in a handshake. “You work here?”

  “Yes,” Devonte said as he watched Morgan give him the once-over.

  “You’re not a shifter, that much I know, and you’re not a vamp or a fighter as such, but yet you have such strength,” Morgan said as he reached out to touch Devonte’s arm.

  Devonte reveled in the fact that he was appealing enough to Morgan for the man to be curious. As much as he wanted to tease Morgan, something about his facial expression told him it wasn’t a good idea. So with a sexy smile, Devonte enlightened him. “Teleportation is my specialty.”

  “Really, how far?” he asked excitement evident in Morgan’s voice.

  “Depends,” Devonte replied. “Forty or fifty feet at a time. However there are things that can enhance or impair this.”

  The two men stood talking near the bar. Devonte forgot about his work duties as they talked. The more they spoke, the more he liked Morgan. He had never been so intellectually and physically attracted to a man. That alone told Devonte Morgan was special.

  ***

  Morgan liked Dev. Not just because of his obvious strength and talent, but he was direct. Morgan knew where he stood with him, and he liked that quality. He still kept a watchful eye on his alpha. He wanted her, and she had made it clear she wanted him. Yet right in front of him stood another temptation. There was something about Dev that intrigued him, arousing him on another level. The man’s ‘talents’ could be just the thing his pack would need. Yes, this could be the start of something great.

  ***

  Back at the table, Amilian tried to pay attention to the chit-chat and jokes, but all the talk about their characters having sex, ménages, and the like, had her thinking more about Mr. Man. Tavvy excused herself, saying she was going to the loo. As she was leaving, some random bloke approached the table, and tried to make conversation with Dizzy. He was giving her a serious come-on, reducing the other ladies into another fit of giggles. Thankfully, he was distracted by another bloke and turned around to converse with him. In doing so, he knocked a drink over Dizzy and drenched her.

  Someone called him an “ejit,” but Amilian couldn’t quite work out whom. To be honest, she was too busy trying not to laugh. Why she found it funny, she had no idea. As she scanned the other ladies’ faces, none of them displayed the slightest smile, which made her want to laugh even more.

  She took her glass, downed the contents, and was about to excuse herself from the table when she suddenly got very warm. Wow that wine is strong, she thought. She needed to cool down. “I’m just going to get some water,” she said, but no one was really paying her any attention. So she got up and went to the bar.

  Warm wasn’t the only sensation causing her concern. Her nipples were hard and her breathing slow but deepen. Her clit started throbbing as waves of heat flushed through her body. Her vision was fine, but her mind couldn’t focus on any one thing, except the overwhelming need to orgasm. She recognized the signals of her body’s arousal and headed straight for Mr. Man.

  “Excuse me” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder, she felt weak and needed support. He turned around sharply, knocking her off balance, but he caught her before she slammed into the other man standing with him.

  “Are you okay?” Morgan asked.

  “I don’t know,” Amilian replied honestly. “I think my drink has been spiked,” she continued, as she ran her fingers through her hair. Her other hand unconsciously stroked her breast.

  ***

  Morgan looked at Devonte with a questioning glance. Devonte had been listening the whole time, his mind instinctively back in work mode. He looked over at the ladies’ table he was supposed to be watching to find those who were left at the table were in much the same state as the lady standing with Morgan, all flustered and looking unsure. Devonte watched as other trusted supes came to their rescue. It was then he saw a tall blond-haired man.

  “Malachi,” he said, and dread started to take over. “Shit.” He glanced back at Morgan. “Follow me, and bring her with you.” Morgan shot him a questioning look, but there was no time for him to explain. Instead he led them back to the corner table where Morgan had been sitting earlier.

  “Please let me go,” Dev heard the woman say, and he glanced behind him. Morgan had picked the woman up with one arm and carried her with ease, following after him. The strength Morgan demonstrated added to Devonte’s attraction. But he couldn’t allow thoughts like that to cloud his mind right now. He had a job to do, and if his gut was right, he had to act fast.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  They reached the table, and Amilian struggled to break free. She was being held captive by a wall of muscle that backed her into a corner.

  “What are you doing?” Amilian spat at him with growing panic. Her mind told her he was a complete stranger and that something was terribly wr
ong while her body took control and acted on the need to fulfill the sexual desire taking over her. The man’s body was right up against hers, increasing her arousal to the point of desperation. She noticed her hand was on his chest, clinging to his V-neck T-shirt, holding him close to her His hard torso felt so good, pressing her against the wall. She realized her wish was coming true. She had always wanted to feel instant attraction, to be able to write about them. Now was her chance, and she was going to take it.

  She started grinding herself against him. She could feel the effect of her movements on the man standing in front of her.

  “What’s your name?” she asked in a voice she hardly recognized. She watched him smile, as though he found it amusing that she had been grinding herself on him and only now thought it a good idea to find out his name. “I don’t even know your name!” Her voice was much softer and more pleading.

  “Morgan,” he said. “This is Dev,” he continued, looking over his shoulder. He nodded toward the other man he was talking to when she first approached him.

  “Is now a good time to explain what is going on, Dev?” Morgan questioned.

  ***

  Dev was concerned as he kept looking around the bar. “I’m not sure, Morgan,” he said, “but I’d bet my bottom dollar that Malachi is at the heart of it all. If my theory is right, he has released a siren song, which is why your lady friend and the other human ladies are in this current state of horniness.”

  “What do you mean other human ladies? What the hell is a siren song, and how the fuck do you know I’m so horny?” Amilian pulled on Morgan’s top so he would face her. She had so many questions and needed so many answers, but she couldn’t think past the heat running through her veins and the heavy ache in her already swollen lips. She angled her head so her lips were close to his ear as she begged seductively “Help me. Morgan, please.”