Vampire Fight Club (supernatural)

by Larissa Ione

  The male settled down, surprising the hell out of Nate. Mars nodded in approval and then jerked his thumb toward the hall. “I’m going to check on the other participant in the dance floor brawl.” He took off, and Nate turned back to Vladlena, who was reaching for the rolling med kit next to the bed.

  “Now,” she said, “let’s get some vitals. What’s your species?”

  “Warg,” the male grunted, and yeah, Nate figured. Werewolves, or wargs, as they liked to be called, were growly by nature, and they tended to be larger than other animal-based underworlders and humans—probably because they grew an extra inch or two after being bitten and turned into a werewolf.

  She inspected his mouth and airway for any of the teeth that had been knocked out. “Was it a fist or foot that did this?”

  Before the warg could answer, there was a shout from outside, and a vampire burst into the room. The warg came off the table, and Nate leaped to intercept him.

  “Not in my office,” Vladlena snapped, and for a moment, the warg paused.

  Unaffected by her command, the vampire lunged. A pure animal in his rage, he struck out at Vladlena, knocking her into the cabinets.

  Fury ripped through Nate with the force of a summer storm, and then he was moving faster than his thoughts, ramming his fist into the male’s nose and popping a double-tap into his throat. As the vamp’s head rocked back, Nate seized him by the neck and slammed him into the wall. He felt the sting of a blade slash at his gut, but he was too lit to let it slow him down. If anything, the pain fed his need to draw blood, and he reached for the fucker’s wrist, snapping it with a quick twist of his fingers. The vamp shouted in agony and dropped the blade. Now Nate was going to tear the bastard’s head off.

  Literally. One of the interesting things about being a day-walker was that he was stronger and faster than “normal” vampires, and he was going to make use of that right now—

  Marsden’s hands came down on Nate’s shoulders to wrench him away from the nightcrawler as three of the club’s security guys wrestled the warg and vampire to the ground, cuffing them roughly.

  “Get ’em out of here,” Mars snapped. “If they want to fight, they’ll do it outside. Then give them a fucking map to Underworld General. They aren’t setting foot in here again.”

  Nate whirled around to Vladlena, and when he saw her on the floor, trapped by a shelf that had fallen on her, the pinprick of life he’d felt penetrate his veil of indifference earlier widened. Son of a bitch, if she was hurt . . .

  He and Mars tag-teamed the shelf, lifting it off her.

  “You okay?” Nate offered her a hand, and she took it, surging to her feet as if she hadn’t just been wearing a two hundred pound wooden shelf.

  “I’m fine.” She started to brush herself off, but when she looked at him, she froze. “But you’re not.”

  He looked down, surprised to see the gash that ran from his right side to his left hip. And that’s when the pain hit. Oddly, the only thing he could think of was that now Vladlena had an excuse to touch him.

  Chapter 4

  Vladlena did not like her boss. At all. But she was a trained medical professional, and he was bleeding. Badly. Besides, he’d saved her from what might have been a vicious beating, and while she didn’t doubt that his motivation was more about not wanting to lose another medic than about chivalry, she was grateful.

  “Get on the table.” She peeled off the gloves she’d used on the warg, washed, and snapped on new ones as Nate did as he was told.

  Interesting. He definitely didn’t seem like the type to follow instructions, but he hopped up on the table and laid back as if he were reclining to watch TV in bed.

  And there was an image she needed to get out of her head, because she suddenly saw him on red silk sheets, his black hair spilling over a pillow, and she was right there, straddling his hips and running her hands up what was surely a magnificent chest.

  She cleared her throat—and her mind. She was a professional, after all. “You’re going to have to take off your shirt.”

  He worked the buttons, his long fingers seeming to take an unnecessarily long time. As he peeled the shirt away, he sucked air, and now that the wound was exposed, she could see why. The knife the vampire had cut him with had been serrated, leaving ragged edges on an already deep laceration. The slice had also gone through his leather belt and slacks.

  “You’ll have to undo your pants too.” She swore she saw the faintest glimmer of amusement in his expression before it shuttered.

  His hand hovered over his belt buckle. “Close the door. I don’t need my employees seeing me like this.”

  The idea of shutting herself in a room with him sent flutters of both trepidation and excitement through her. The excitement was something that shouldn’t happen, not until she knew more about his involvement in her brother’s death, and she gave herself a mental scolding as she closed the door.

  “There.” She turned back to him. “Happy?”

  “I’ve been opened up from ribs to crotch. I’m not jumping for joy.”

  “You’re already starting to heal,” she pointed out, and then she stopped talking, because he tore open his fly and her mouth no longer worked.

  He didn’t wear underwear.

  So much for being a professional. Giving herself a muchneeded kick in the butt, she fetched a tray of supplies and returned to him.

  “I’m going to clean the area—”

  “With your tongue?”

  She jerked back. “What?”

  “That’s what my vampire medic would do.”

  “Eew. And no. I’m not a vampire, and even if I were, that’s just not . . . protocol.”

  “Did your boss at Underworld General tell you that? The one who doesn’t make you fuck him?” That glimmer of amusement was back.

  “You know, I don’t think you need medical assistance at all.” His wound was closing up quickly, though there was a three-inch gash where the knife had entered that was deeper than the rest of the laceration, and it could definitely use stitches or glue.

  “I think I do.” Smiling, he tucked his hands behind his head. “So do me.”

  With a huff, she swabbed blood from his skin with plain water—vampires sometimes had allergic reactions to disinfectants. It was probably inappropriate to notice how hard his flesh was, how deeply cut the muscles were, and how firm his skin was, but then, he was being completely inappropriate, so she found it hard to chastise herself.

  “So, Vladlena” he said, “why didn’t your little voice trick work on me?”

  “Call me Lena. And . . . voice trick?”

  “I saw the way you were able to settle the warg down with only a few words.”

  “Ah, that.” She shrugged. “It only works on canines.”

  “Odd for a tiger, don’t you think?” He peered at her so intently through half-lidded eyes that she felt stripped bare. Vulnerable.

  She pushed aside the whisper of panic that said he might not believe her cover story, but she hadn’t wanted to draw any suspicion by revealing that she was a hyena. A hyena who can’t change into a hyena. A hyena who has never displayed a single hyena trait. She was the worst shapeshifter ever.

  “We all have unique gifts.” Time for a subject change. She probed the worst of the damage. “You’re very lucky the blade didn’t enter an inch higher, or your stomach would have been punctured.”

  “And that’s bad?”

  She dabbed at the deep laceration, and though it must have hurt, Nate didn’t even flinch. “For a vampire, yes. All your other organs heal quickly, but because the stomach pumps the blood you ingest through your body, it can bleed you out.”

  “Wouldn’t kill me.”

  “No, but it’ll make you weaker than a newborn baby for several days.”

  He watched her finish wiping down his skin. “How long have you been a nurse?”

  “You’d know the answer to that if you’d read my file.”

  A lazy grin turned up the corn
ers of his mouth. “Maybe I like the sound of your voice and want to hear it from you instead.”

  Insufferable vampire. “A little over two years. I went to college and nursing schools in the human world, and then I got a job at Underworld General.”

  And talk about a culture shock. Human medicine and demon medicine were two completely different animals. Every demon species was different, from their anatomies to their vital signs to the type of treatments they could tolerate—or not tolerate.

  “What drew you to the medical field?”

  “It’s in my genes,” she sighed. “My father was a surgeon at Underworld General.” As a child, she’d bandaged her stuffed animals, moving on to nursing neighborhood pets, and as she got older, the sound of an ambulance’s siren would fill her with excitement and longing.

  “Was?”

  “He’s dead.” She tossed the bloodied materials and dragged the rolling tray of supplies closer with her foot. “Killed by The Aegis.”

  “Bastards.” He shifted, which made his fly gape open a little more. Nope, he definitely didn’t wear underwear. “What about the rest of your family? Mother? Siblings?”

  “My mother hasn’t been in my life since my brothers and I were weaned.” Mainly, that was because she’d wanted to kill both Vaughn and Lena to rid the world of two runts who hadn’t thrived and who had needed extra care in their first few months to survive. Lena’s father had run her mother off, and she hadn’t seen her since.

  “How many brothers?”

  Lena’s first impulse was to lie, to mention only the two living ones, but no, she wanted him to get a glimpse of the pain she’d felt when she saw Vaughn in shreds.

  “I had three. One was killed recently.”

  His hand came down on her wrist, startling her. “The Aegis?” His voice was surprisingly mellow, his hold gentle, and for a moment, she was tongue-tied. But then she remembered that this vampire might very well have had something to do with Vaughn’s death, and she casually dislodged his grip.

  “I’m not sure who is responsible,” she said. “But when I find out, I’m going to make them pay for what was done to him.”

  “I get that,” he muttered. “Just don’t take too long, or it’ll get to the point where it won’t matter anymore.”

  “Sounds like you have some experience with that?” she asked, as she reached for the tube of skin glue.

  His jaw tightened so forcefully she heard the pop of bone. “Everyone thinks anger simmers, only growing hotter until you finally release it in some massive explosion.”

  “Doesn’t it?”

  “Absolutely. But if you wait too long, all that rage burns out. It’ll flame hotter and hotter, until it consumes all the fuel, and then you’re left with nothing. Fire is the ultimate sanitizer.” His voice was bleak, scoured of the passion she’d seen in him up until this conversation.

  Avoiding his gaze, she applied the Dermabond to the laceration. “Who did you lose?”

  Silence stretched, and for a long time, she didn’t think he’d answer. When he did, his voice was cold but even. “My mate.” He cocked his head, his assessing gaze stripping her bare again. “Are you mated?”

  “Me?” She suppressed a laugh. “I’m too busy for a social life.”

  “That’s what people say when they don’t want a social life.”

  She hated that he’d seen through her. She’d always found excuses for not going out with her friends, but what it came down to was that she was defective. Who would want a shifter who couldn’t shift and who would someday go insane and die?

  “And you?” She capped the glue and tossed it to the cart. “I suppose you aren’t too busy for a social life?”

  “I’m not too busy. I admit I don’t want one. My work is my social life.”

  As if on cue, music from the club kicked up a notch, vibrating the very air with a deep bass beat that tugged at Lena’s very insides. “So what do you do for fun?” she asked casually, when she suddenly felt anything but.

  An extremely wicked grin exposed his fangs, and her senses flamed in response. “I have sex. Wanna have some fun?”

  Man, Nate loved making Vladlena squirm. Mostly, he was being obnoxious, but he definitely wouldn’t be averse to getting her naked.

  Which was weird, considering that she wasn’t his type, and he had never embraced the any-port-in-a-storm attitude Marsden had made into a lifestyle.

  “You know,” Lena said in a breathless rush, “in a human establishment, I could sue you for sexual harassment.”

  “Only if I was harassing you.”

  “You are.”

  Bullshit. The flush of her skin, the heat radiating from her, the pitch of her voice . . . it all made a liar of her. It also engaged the predator in him—it had been a long time since he’d had to give chase to make the kill.

  Time to pounce.

  “I can feel your desire.” He propped himself up on his elbows, forcing his body closer to hers. “You want me. Therefore, it’s not harassment. It’s bringing the natural conclusion about sooner than later.”

  Her outraged gasp made him laugh. “You are so . . . so . . .”

  “Sexy?”

  “Arrogant.”

  He’d take that. “And sexy.”

  Huffing, she shoved the rolling supply tray away. “Don’t you have a club to manage?”

  He made a noncommittal noise as he swung his legs over the side of the exam table. “Technically, I’m off work.”

  “And technically, I’m not working, remember?”

  He was up in a flash and had her backed against the wall before he even realized he’d moved. She looked up at him, as surprised as he was by his sudden movement, but he rolled with it, totally I-meant-to-do-that, even though he wasn’t sure if his slightly impulsive behavior was a good thing or a bad one.

  “If you’re not working, you should be playing,” he murmured, moving as close as he could without touching her. He wasn’t going to give her an excuse to push him away.

  “If, by play, you mean have sex—”

  “I do.” Now he leaned in a little, loving the way her breath hitched as his mouth lowered so close to hers that he could feel the warm rush of air between her parted lips. “But you know what’s almost as good?”

  Her heart rate leaped, the beat so loud it thrummed in his ears and made his mouth water. Her voice was barely a murmur over the sound of her pulse. “What?”

  “This.” He brushed his lips over hers, slowly, tentatively, giving her the chance to stop him.

  She didn’t. But fuck, she was in imminent danger of heart failure if it didn’t slow down. Her nervousness was a tang in the air, and if he had any decency in him, he’d back off. Instead, that thread of life he’d been clinging to since she walked through his office door became a rope, strengthening his resolve.

  He wanted to taste her. Wanted to sink his fangs into her throat and feel her pulse tapping against his teeth as her life force flowed into him.

  He’d settle for tasting her lips.

  For now.

  Her lips were velvety, warm, and they parted more as he swept his mouth back and forth in invitation. Her response was hesitant, but curious. From the delicate scent of her desire that rose up all around him, to the spark in her eyes and the rapid pace of her breathing, it was clear she wanted this. But her body was stiff as a steel beam, screaming with awkwardness.

  Maybe it’s because you’re her boss and she’s afraid you’ll fire her if she doesn’t kiss you, you dolt.

  Cursing himself, he whispered against her lips, “Your job isn’t at risk. It never was, and I apologize for playing with you like that. You’re hired no matter what.” Huh. Maybe he still had an ounce of decency left in him.

  “Okay,” she whispered back, and those gorgeous eyes of hers locked onto his, heating him and making him feel like she was caressing him from the inside.

  Groaning, he increased the pressure against her mouth. “Open for me,” he murmured, and after the briefe
st hesitation, her lips parted just enough to allow him to stroke the tip of his tongue over the tip of hers.

  This time, her reaction was immediate, intense, and shockingly abrupt, as if a dam had burst. She grabbed his biceps hard enough to send a small shock of blissful pain through him, and her back arched, putting her hips in contact with his, and she kissed him back with a hungry growl.

  All of that set him off like nothing ever had. What had been mild arousal became a high-level blast of lust that clouded his thoughts and damn near had him taking her to the floor. He wanted her softness under him, her full hips and breasts buffering the hard planes of his body as he pounded into her. Only the faint vibration in his pocket kept him from stripping her down and diving between her legs.

  “Dammit,” he breathed, as he reached into his pocket for his cell phone. He was going to throw the damned thing away if it kept interrupting him.

  Lena’s wide eyes were glazed and unfocused, her face flushed, and yeah, she’d been his for the taking. He snarled viciously as he stepped back from her and looked down at the text message. GLADIUS. NOW.

  “What . . .” She swallowed. “What’s Gladius?”

  “None of your business.” Sexual frustration and annoyance at being sloppy enough to let her see the message put an edge on his voice. He jammed the phone back in his pocket and tried to ignore the hurt in her expression, because if she was so sensitive that a few harsh words bothered her, she wasn’t going to last a week in this club.

  The reality of that thought didn’t stop him from wanting to draw her into his arms and apologize, though.

  And what the fuck was up with the apologies and this touchy-feely crap? All his compassion had been beaten out of him in the arena, so why the sudden desire to protect this female as if she were nothing more than a lost young cub?

  “Well,” she said crisply, “you can go to hell.”

  He blinked. “For telling you to butt out of something that isn’t your business?”