Beneath a Blood Moon

by RJ Blain

  With her main priorities being sex and food, if I didn’t make some effort to take control of her, we really would starve. Before she had come around, I had been mostly vegetarian, sticking to the occasional plate of scrambled eggs, fish, and bacon for special occasions—or when I was feeling really, really rich. I had consumed more meat in the past three days than I had in three years. I wanted to curl up in bed, hide under the covers, and cry. At the rate I was eating, I’d devour more food by the end of the week than I had in a year.

  To make matters worse, she was hungry again. At least she had the decency to feel sheepish and apologetic about it. I sighed. “If you lay off a bit and don’t try to force me to sleep with someone tonight, I’ll take you to a buffet.”

  An all-you-can-eat place might be able to handle her appetite—maybe.

  While Las Vegas in the late fall was far cooler than during the summer, I was soaked in sweat by the time I reached the club. My wolf, at least, wasn’t challenging my criteria for eligible men, although I had the feeling they confused her.

  If I didn’t want to end up sleeping with a loser, I’d have to teach her the difference between assholes and men worth pursuing. She approved of my thoughts, her presence warm and soothing.

  I made it all the way to the dressing room without her trying to force me into bed with anyone. Letting out a relieved sigh, I braced myself for a torrent of questions.

  My fellow strippers didn’t disappoint, and they descended on me like a pack of chattering, giggling hyenas. Danny pulled my coat off, tossing it to one of the other girls. “Damn, woman, you’re going for gold tonight. What kept you out? It’s been busy. Damned convention next door—we sure as hell could’ve used you or Slink yesterday on the pole.”

  Isabella wasn’t ever coming back. Before my guilt could once again take hold, my wolf’s satisfaction smothered it. If she hadn’t attacked us, she wouldn’t have died.

  It was a wolf’s logic, but I couldn’t argue with her because it was true. I sighed.

  “Stomach bug,” I lied, although there was some truth to my admission. Turning into a werewolf likely wouldn’t fly as an excuse, and I had been throwing up ever since the full moon. Examining myself in the mirror, I adjusted my front zipper so none of my cleavage was showing. “I doubt you would’ve liked me puking all over the stage. What did I miss?”

  “Packed house, a fight, and some of the hottest VIPs I’ve seen in ages are here tonight, so you better stay until at least eleven, girl. Rumor has it they’ll be taking girls home with them, too—and paying a pretty penny for the privilege; higher than the usual rate. They’re coming through the dressing room sometime after ten. Peach says they’re into blonds. She’s seen them around the past few nights.”

  I looked around for the red-head, frowning when I didn’t see her among the other strippers. “Where is Peach?”

  “She’s coming in after nine. Think you’ll stay for the eleven shift?”

  Eleven was well after most of the buffets closed for the night, and if she was right, I’d likely end up serving some man as a prostitute. I sighed. “I was scheduled in until eight, Danny.”

  “I’ll run up to the boss and tell him you’re in your vinyl tonight. We’ll figure something out. Worse case, we’ll take turns sitting rounds. Vinyl means we all get better tips, girl.” Danny grinned at me, blew me a kiss, and sashayed her way through the other girls getting ready. I didn’t know most of them, which didn’t surprise me in the slightest.

  The boss gave almost all girls a try, but most didn’t make the cut. I grumbled, going over each of my buckles to make sure they would be easy enough to unfasten. Fumbling with buckles tended to be a turn off for the audience.

  Danny and Patricia would prove the high earners, probably with me as a close third, although I had a chance to take the top spot in my vinyl. We’d be expected to carry the show while the newbies flounced around and attempted to strut their stuff. The boss would look the other way when they solicited the departing clients, never to be seen again—or at least not for a few months.

  “Hey, Patricia,” I called, bouncing my hip against one of the new girls to make space at the vanity and mirrors. “Can you snag my heels?”

  “Sure thing, Jasmine. Which pair?”

  “Whatever you think fits the mood.” I had to jump to reach my makeup bag hanging from the hook above the mirror. “Sparkle or matte?”

  “Because glitter goes oh-so-well with vinyl. Should be fun; you’ll stand out even more. We’ve been in feathers all day, and the boss says we’ll stay in feathers until he tells us otherwise.”

  “Feathers? Seriously?” I grumbled, wondering if I’d even get to wear the vinyl out. “Glue some to my ass. I didn’t get a feathers-only memo, Patty.”

  I also hadn’t checked my answering machine in fear of what sort of messages would be waiting for me. At least girls coming and going wasn’t exactly new to the clubs. Missing shifts wasn’t like me, but once news spread I had come down with a stomach bug, no one would think twice about it.

  So long as I kept my mouth shut and my head down, no one would even think to ask me if I knew where Isabella was. I’d be able to say with some honesty I wasn’t sure; the desert was a big place, and I doubted I could find the cabin again even if I wanted to.

  “Now this’ll be interesting. I bet we could rig something if the boss says you need some feathers.” Patricia tossed me my black stilettos. “Gold and blue glitter to go with your hair.”

  The other girls gawked at us, and I ignored them, pulling out my glitter gloss and eyeshadow. I didn’t use much, just enough to add a bit of shine to my lids and lips. My wolf was puzzled by my preparations, and she simply observed, retreating until I was barely aware of her. “At least I’m not late. Almost was,” I muttered, shoving my makeup back in my bag before hanging it back on its hook.

  “You still got twenty before your first scheduled run,” Patricia soothed, offering me a sheet of paper. “Enough time to rig up some feathers for that tight rump of yours.”

  I twisted around and slapped her bare asscheek. “Keep it up, girl, and I’ll leave a handprint.”

  “Oh, do it. That’ll be hot, and I’m on in five.”

  Laughing, I did as she asked, shaking out my stinging palm afterwards. “The things I do for you.”

  Danny slid down the metal handrail from the upstairs office, landing with a thunk of her heels. “Boss gave the approval to fit you in for the extra hours. Unfortunately, you’re to figure out a way to add feathers. The VIP specials requested feathers, sorry. Have your headdress with you?”

  “I’m featherless,” I grumbled. “Why didn’t you tell me we were showgirling tonight?”

  “We’ll glue some strays to your ass and straps. It’ll be a hit,” Patricia said, grabbing one of the all-purpose feather headdresses from the rack. “This piece of shit needs to be retired anyway. We’ll pillage it. I have to get ready to dance. Can you help her, Danny?”

  “Sure. I’m on after you, Jasmine, so rile them up for me. Boss says you’re to take twenty minutes, and we’ll be shifting the schedule.”

  “Twenty?” I blurted. “What the hell did I do to deserve that?”

  “It gets better. He wants your twenty without you doing more than popping some cleavage. Have fun.”

  I groaned. On a normal night, we did five to ten minute runs spaced out with breaks between to give the illusion more girls worked the club than actually did. A ten-minute pole dance under the club’s bright lights was tough enough, but by the time I finished twenty, I’d be soaked in sweat, gasping like a fish out of water, and ready to cry for mercy.

  The only good thing about such a long shift would be the tips—and the chance to earn favor with Danny for priming the pumps of all of the men wanting to see more than shiny vinyl.

  “I hope you’re going to tip me,” I muttered, grabbing the feather headdress and ripping out several of the large plumes. At least they matched my blue tips. “Tell me it gets better.”
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br />   “You wish. You’re going to have to hold off for the reveal for the VIPs. It’s a private party after ten, and you won’t strip until the last act. Boss says he hopes you’re wearing nice panties, because you’re not taking them off, either.”

  “What kind of stripper doesn’t strip?” I demanded, ripping out a few more feathers from the old headdress. “I’m going to asphyxiate before eight. I’ll be dead by eleven, Danny.”

  “Take it for the team,” she replied, smirking. “Make me a fortune tonight, and I’ll tip you really well.”

  “Way to be a team player. That’s right. Throw me under the bus. I’ll remember that the next time you’re roped into a shit shift.”

  “Shit shift, but a profitable shit shift,” Danny pointed out, slapping my ass before grabbing a handful of feathers. “Now stand still and let me work.”

  I obeyed, bracing my palms against the vanity while wiggling my feet into my stilettos. “I really will die if I don’t get out of the vinyl between acts,” I warned her.

  “You’re only scheduled in for one act an hour to make up for it. You’ll have time to air out a bit between shows. You can help the new girls get their acts together between your runs. You’ll be flying solo during your set, and I’ll be paired off with a new girl for mine. I’m in four fives each hour.” Danny grabbed a blue feather boa, snagged a pair of scissors, and cut it into several pieces. “Feather cuffs. I’ll try not to get too much glue on your suit. Keep your feet still a second.”

  “Feathers and vinyl is going to look ridiculous,” I complained. “Especially bright blue feathers.”

  “I don’t think the men will care about the feathers. They’ll be too busy drooling over your tits and ass. Seriously, girl. Shred some feathers off the boa and toss them out as souvenirs. They’ll love it.”

  Many men would; people loved freebies from Vegas, especially when they came from a stripper. “Give me some of the small ones.”

  She handed me the ravaged headdress.

  I went to work stripping off feathers, unzipped my suit enough to stuff a handful into my cleavage, and zipped back up. “There, they’ll be too wet from sweat to pop out, but close enough.”

  “Since when were you this kinky, girl? Damn, that’s going to be hot.”

  She wouldn’t believe me if I told her the truth, so I shrugged. “About the time you promised me a tip if I riled them up for you, Danny.”

  She laughed, giving me a pinch. “Point taken. You’re going to shed half these feathers working the pole, but hey, Boss said you had to have feathers, not that you had to keep them on. We’ll pillage more from the shit headdresses between your acts. It’ll serve him right.”

  I checked the time, wrinkling my nose. “He better pick good music.”

  “Any preferences? I’ll run it up before you go on stage.”

  “Slow in the start, up the tempo in the middle, and slow at the end. Just give me something with a steady beat. None of this slow to fast in mid-song crap tonight. It’s going to be bad enough working the pole for twenty.”

  “I’ll let the sound guys know. Think you’ll be okay?”

  “Don’t worry about me. If it’s too much, I’ll treat the front row to a very elegant and sexy faint.” I snorted, shaking my head. “Jab a feather in my hair, and we’ll call it good enough.”

  Once she checked me over one final time and left, I headed down the hall to the club’s runway, watching from the wings while Patricia yanked off her bra and tossed it into the crowd. Scents I hadn’t noticed before teased my nose, and my wolf’s interest piqued as she identified the rich, alluring aroma of male arousal.

  “Don’t you even dare,” I hissed under my breath. Disgruntled but obedient, my wolf settled and watched through my eyes while I scoped out the crowd. Usually, it was a mixed bag of men and women hitting the gambling tables while watching us dance.

  Tonight, we were the stars, and there were a lot of suits and sequin dresses in the crowd. The boss had brought out the extra stools from the bar, along with the tables meant for two or three. Even the waitresses and waiters wore feathers pinned to their suits.

  “You’re good to go,” Danny hissed in my ear, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “Knock ‘em dead, girl.”

  I stretched while waiting for Patricia and the new girl to finish strutting their stuff down the runway. I flashed both of them a smile before drawing a deep breath.

  I swallowed back my groan as the lights dimmed and the spotlight focused on the pole before sliding in my direction. My wolf’s excitement grew as I readied myself to work my way across the platform. Some of the dancers strutted to the pole as though the speed of their arrival somehow enhanced the experience for the clients. With twenty minutes to work, I took my time.

  Before I had taken to stripping, I had enjoyed ballet. Waltzing had also been fun, but as soon as I had left home, determined to make my way without any help, I had given up both styles, choosing to learn flamenco and swing dancing to give my pole work more flare.

  For the next twenty minutes, my pole would be my partner. As I sashayed my way down the runway, I scanned the crowd for the man I’d dance for, to add that little extra edge to the sway of my hips as I focused on him and him alone.

  I found the dark-haired man with amber eyes, the one I had danced for the last time I had performed at the club. He sat straighter, his gaze fixed on me. While most of the men wore suits, he wore a charcoal button-up, the top opened to reveal a hint of his tanned chest. He had a tie, but it was lying on the table in front of him. Like before, his friend was there, the one who had asked for a photograph of the three of us together when I had been on my way to perform as a showgirl.

  This time, there was a woman seated between them, wearing a gown better suited for a party with the social elite than a strip club.

  My wolf liked his amber eyes and approved of the way his shirt hugged his chest with the promise of lean muscle beneath. Once again, she lusted for a mate, and he held her enthralled. I spun around the pole, dipping backwards to stare at him.

  His eyes widened, and because my wolf wanted him, for the first time since I had started stripping, I danced for the same man twice.

  Chapter Five

  Most clients came and went in the club, but when his friends left, the dark-haired man with amber eyes remained. When I wasn’t swaying to the music, using my wolf’s lust and the desire in his gaze as a lifeline to keep on my feet, I flopped in the dressing room. I fought to catch my breath while I coached the new girls, offering them advice on how to draw the attention of men and women alike.

  By the time I finished my normal shift of five hours, I wanted nothing more than to find a hole, crawl into it, and die. Danny crouched next to me, where I was stretched out on the dressing room bench, poking my shoulder. She handed me a bottle of water. “Still alive?”

  “Barely,” I croaked, and determined not to whine too much, I clenched my teeth. Three more dances and I’d be done for the night. I drank several swallows, and fearing I’d throw the rest up, I set the bottle aside. Danny recapped it. “I’d get out of my suit, but I don’t think I have the energy to get back into it.”

  “Well, you’re smoking on the dance floor. You’re going to like the tips. The boss sent me down to find out if you’d be interested in going home with one of the VIPs. It seems a gentleman wants to take you home with his wife for some lively entertainment.”

  I sighed, slumping at the thought of whoring myself out to some man who was likely suffering from a mid-life crisis. Knowing I’d say no, the boss didn’t usually extend prostitution offers to me. Unfortunately for me, I had missed too many good work days and had a wolf to feed. If the growing discomfort in my belly was any indication, she was extremely hungry.

  “Seriously? This is the worst shift,” I wailed.

  Danny rubbed my shoulders, and I groaned as she dug in her fingers. Her breath tickled my ear. “The gentleman is paying ten thousand up front and another ten in the morning. He’s paying the bos
s fifty thousand if he cuts you loose now instead of after the VIP show.”

  I stiffened. “You’re fucking with me. Twenty thousand? And if I don’t, the boss loses fifty? What the hell, Danny?! Since when did he start pitching no-win offers like that? It’s fucking blackmail.”

  I didn’t need a flashing neon sign to tell me what would happen if I said no. If I lost him fifty thousand, my job was gone. Worse, by morning word would spread to every club in the city that I had screwed him out of a lot of cash and cost him a client at the same time.

  My wolf and I wouldn’t last long on a single night’s work, no matter how good the tips were.

  “I’m sorry, but you know how this business goes. The boss really wants you to accept. It’s twenty thousand for you, right? He’s tossing in two weeks off work with paid full-time minimum wage as incentive. I tried to tell him you liked scoping out the men you went home with, but no luck. It’s a pretty sweet deal, girl. Don’t be stupid.”

  Twenty thousand would solve a lot of problems, and two weeks paid vacation was a luxury I normally didn’t have as a part-time stripper and part-time college student. Not only could I feed my wolf, but I’d have time to figure out what the hell to do now that I was a werewolf.

  I had already lost a week’s worth of income.

  Hating myself for giving in, I sighed and nodded. “Fine.”

  My wolf did not approve. I ignored her.

  “You’ll do it?” Danny blurted.

  “I’ll do it,” I confirmed, hoping I wasn’t about to make a very big mistake.

  “There’s a catch.”

  There was always a catch. I should have known. I blamed my fatigue from pole dancing in vinyl for five hours for my stupidity. “What catch?”

  “The couple isn’t done playing on the strip tonight, so they want you to accompany them wearing a fancy dress they already bought because the boss gave them your sizes. The dress, as well as its accompanying accessories, arrived by courier during your last act.”