Act of Passion

by Mandy M. Roth

  He had a long history of infamous incidents with women throughout the ages. More than once he’d leaned on his fellow PSI operatives and friends to get him out of a hairy situation, all revolving around him bedding women.

  Auberi appeared next to Malik, minus his drink. He drew the woman in red to him and touched her chin, forcing her gaze to meet his. The woman licked her lips and the smell of her arousal filled the air, doing nothing to ignite Malik’s sex drive.

  Auberi spun the woman, putting her back to his front, and turned his head, his gaze colliding with Malik’s. “Just what the doctor ordered.”

  Malik barely managed to contain a groan. Auberi was a doctor. He’d studied some form of medicine at least once a century since he’d been alive.

  We could share these beauties, said Auberi down the mental path they shared.

  Malik shook his head. Nah. I’m not really feeling it with them. They’re not my type.

  Auberi snorted. I find that hard to believe.

  I think I’m going to call it a night, returned Malik, giving up the farce.

  Auberi caught his arm. “I’ve arranged a surprise for you tonight, to help you out of your recent funk.”

  Malik fought a groan. Knowing Auberi, he’d hired a harem to come and try to get Malik off. It would be a very Auberi thing to do.

  Auberi drew the two women closer to him and stared down at them, his gaze going to jet black quickly. “Go. Find others to occupy you for the evening.”

  The women obeyed. It’s what humans did when a powerful vampire mesmerized them.

  Auberi motioned for Malik to follow him as he made his way deeper into the club. He went up the stairs to a roped-off darker section. They passed by several bouncers who all seemed as if they knew Auberi well. They probably did. The man was more than likely a regular.

  Instantly, he was hit with the scent of honey and lotuses, making him stumble slightly, his beast surging up. Malik stopped and took several deep breaths, hoping to stave off a full shift. He inhaled again and was hit with the smell of Brooke once more.

  “Tut?” asked Auberi, touching Malik’s shoulder and chasing away the scent of the woman who haunted Malik to this day.

  Auberi led Malik to a large back room that offered a view of the dance floor below but that was so dimly lit, none could see up and into it. There was a table, a booth, a bed of all things, and several oversized comfy chairs. The table had two gold-colored masks on it. When Malik saw the theme of the masks—ancient Egyptian—he shot Auberi a hard look.

  “Sit. Put this on,” the vampire said, handing Malik a mask that looked a great deal like a rendition of Tutankhamen.

  Malik eyed the mask and his friend. “No. I’m going home.”

  Auberi grinned. “Indulge me. I think you’ll enjoy it. This surprise is one of my better ones. Let’s give you a birthday to remember.”

  Malik stared at the mask. “It’s not my birthday.”

  “Tut,” said Auberi, knowing Malik disliked the nickname. “You’re being very boring. You didn’t used to be boring.”

  Malik tensed and took the mask. He put it on as Auberi put on a similar one and then took a seat in one of the oversized chairs. This was going to end poorly. Anything Auberi thought was fun normally did.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Brooke,” said Joe, the bartender for the VIP section, as he stood behind the bar.

  Brooke made her way over to the man and sighed when he pulled out a half-mask. This one was different from anything she’d been asked to wear before. The thing looked to be plucked from an Egyptian museum. “You have got to be kidding me.”

  “Nope. Some big spender set this up. Wait until you see the outfits he had sent over for you and Stacey to wear,” said Joe, looking less than amused. He was a middle-aged man who had tended bar for over twenty years. He was protective of the women who worked there and wasn’t like some of the men there who tried to be touchy-feely. He also didn’t look happy with the client for the night.

  “They didn’t tell me you were on tonight,” said a shrill voice from behind Brooke.

  With a groan, Brooke turned partially to see a buxom fake redhead there, chomping on her gum. The woman raked her gaze over Brooke and sneered. “You always make bigger tips than me and you don’t even let the men touch you or anything. I don’t get it! I strip all the way down and give them anything they want, yet you make more.”

  “Stacey,” warned Joe. “You know the rules. No full nudity and no touching. I don’t care how big the tips might be.”

  She rolled her eyes and took a second mask from the bar top before heading to the back changing room.

  Reluctantly, Brooke followed. Neither woman said another word as they changed into the skimpy outfits. There was a skirt that barely qualified as one. Most of the material was sheer white. The waist portion reminded her of something from an Egyptian museum, like the mask. She couldn’t help but think of her limited time in Egypt. It had been amazing and terrible all in one. She’d gotten the most precious gift ever, yet had endured something no one should ever have to go through.

  She adjusted the thin material of the top and then put her mask on, waiting for Stacey to harness her giant breasts into the top. They barely fit.

  Glen, one of the bouncers, opened the door slowly, his eyes closed tight. “You decent?”

  “I am. Stacey is debatable,” said Brooke with a hard look in the woman’s direction.

  They’d been at odds since Brooke had started at the club nearly a year ago. Stacey liked to break the rules to make bigger tips. Brooke couldn’t stomach the idea of being touched by any of the men who frequented the establishment. She also wasn’t about to get naked for any of them.

  She had certain needs that went above and beyond carnal pleasures and ran more along the lines of survival, which was why she’d even sought out a job at a club like this. She fed from the sexual lust in the air. She’d never dare give in to her darker side and engage in sex with the men from the club. No. If she needed to sate the need fully, she’d call Gram. He’d come and do what needed done.

  She’d dance and pour their champagne but nothing more, no matter how much Stacey tried to push the envelope.

  Brooke wasn’t proud of her job, but it paid the bills and kept food on the table. Plus, the establishment had rather loose hiring practices and didn’t require a background check or anything in the way of real references or identification. It wasn’t as if she could work in cyber security like she’d planned. No. She’d be too easy to possibly find, even with her skill set, if she worked for a legit company. She did odd jobs on the side that were computer related and far from legal, and she did utilized her skills to try to stay a few steps ahead of the madmen hunting her. She did whatever it took to stay hidden from The Corporation.

  She had done the impossible. She’d gotten away from them and lived to tell the tale. So had Edee. The two had been close before but the ordeal they’d lived through had left them inseparable. They stayed on the move together, staying off the grid, always worried they’d be located again. It had been a year since their last run-in with The Corporation, but that didn’t mean they were home free.

  She headed to the door and Glen held it open for her. Stacey followed behind. They followed Glen to the VIP room. As they entered, music that made her think of Egypt came on. To the left of the door was a large bucket of ice with champagne bottles in it. Not just any ones. The most expensive the club had to offer.

  There were grapes, cut-up fruits, and cheeses on small wood trays. Stacey took one tray and Brooke grabbed the other.

  Glen stood at the entrance, putting his back to the room. He’d only intervene if one of the women shouted for help. Other than that, they were alone with the big spenders.

  You can do this.

  She nodded as if that would help keep her spirits up and her confidence level high. As she began to walk in the direction of the seating area, she caught sight of two men there, each wearing masks that covered their
faces fully. Whoever the clients were, they certainly had a hard-on for Egyptian history and flare.

  Stacey began to sway her hips. At five-four Stacey was five inches shorter than Brooke, but the woman had curves aplenty. Something the men who came to the club always seemed to like.

  Brooke rarely bothered to dance. She tended to offer seductive smiles, food, and drink. Nothing more. She didn’t need to. What she carried inside her would make the men think they were having the time of their lives. She’d get the energy she needed and a good-size tip. Everyone got what they wanted.

  One of the men had long brown hair and was in a deep blue designer shirt. It matched his eyes. The man to his right had on an off-white shirt that looked expensive. His ink-black hair hung just past his shoulders. Instantly, she thought of Malik.

  Brooke faltered in her step as her gaze traced its way over the man’s neck and upper chest. She could see hints of tattoos peeking through the open portion of his shirt. Instantly she thought of her time in Egypt. Of her night with Malik.

  Her heart ached for him. Ached knowing he’d died at the hands of the sick bastards who took her.

  He’d died because of her.

  She had to force thoughts of him from her head and focused on the man with the dark hair. Instantly her body responded just as it had five years ago. The man with the black hair stared out from behind the mask, his dark gaze locking on her. For a split second, it felt as if they were the only two people in the club.

  She nearly tore her mask off, but resisted.

  It wasn’t until Stacey nudged her that Brooke realized she’d stopped moving in the direction of the men. She swallowed back a lump in her throat and walked towards the men. She couldn’t tear her gaze from the man with the black hair.

  He sat up in the chair, his dark gaze never leaving her. When he made a move to stand, the man next to him pulled on his shoulder, keeping him seated.

  Brooke’s body tingled with awareness, as it had done five years ago with Malik. This would normally be when she’d put the food on the table before the men and then keep her distance while managing to look interested in them. She didn’t stop where she normally did. No. Boldly, she went right up to the man with the black hair.

  Instantly his hand found her hip. Brooke had never before allowed any of the men to touch her, but she made no move to stop this man.

  Stacey glanced at her and did a double take. She smiled mischievously and then shook her chest, leaning in front of the man with the long brown hair. The man looked pleased, but not very surprised. As if women always threw themselves at him.

  They probably did.

  Brooke bent slowly before the man with the black hair and held the tray of fruit and cheese out for him.

  He took it but set it to the side, on a small table there, his gaze never leaving her. His other hand found her hip. Brooke found herself beginning to move in a seductive manner, her pulse racing with excitement at the man’s hot touch.

  She gasped.

  “Old friend,” said the man with long brown hair. “There is a no-touching rule, and you are most certainly touching. I take it my surprise is now just what the doctor ordered.”

  The man ignored his friend and shocked Brooke by grabbing her and setting her on his lap. She tensed as burning need slammed through her. Again, she thought of Malik, though she wasn’t sure why. He was gone. Dwelling on the past would gain her nothing but more tears, and she’d cried a river already.

  She wanted the man’s hands roaming over her body as much as she’d wanted Malik’s touch all those years ago. She wanted to know what the mystery man looked like under the mask.

  His thumb found its way to her lower lip. Brooke bit his thumb lightly, drawing it into her mouth. The man growled and thrust his hips up, his long, thick erection evident through his designer pants. He ground against her and she closed her eyes, tipping her head back, loving the feel of him under her.

  He ran his hand over her exposed throat and then skimmed it down, heading between her breasts. She made no move to stop him. It was as if she craved his touch. Like she’d been waiting for it.

  Her power flared and she was powerless to stop it. It latched on to the man, drawing energy from his arousal. His eyes widened as he drew one of the straps of her barely there top down, almost revealing a nipple. She made no move to stop him. If anything, she wanted him to do more. To touch her everywhere.

  Brooke moved on his lap, the feel of his long, hard erection under her making her want more. She dipped her head, going for his neck, although she wanted to remove his mask and go for his mouth. She held back. Whatever was driving her, making her act out of the ordinary, pushed her onward.

  As her mouth ran over his neck, he stiffened, jerking under her, increasing his movements. She licked a line down his neck, even his taste reminding her of Malik. The pain of learning of his passing years ago again hit her hard, and she found herself wrapping her arms around the stranger’s neck as she fought back tears.

  He returned the embrace, holding her to his body as if he needed comfort as well. They remained that way for a bit, simply holding one another. Brooke then returned to kissing his neck. She kissed her way down to his collarbone. She eased open his shirt, her hands roaming over the hard planes of his torso. She rubbed against him, wanting desperately to chase away thoughts of Malik.

  Her power flared more, latching on to the mutual attraction between them. The man grabbed her hips and began to control her movements on his lap.

  “Tut,” said the man with the French accent. “I take it this one is more your type. More to your liking.”

  Tut? That was a strange name.

  “Yes,” the dark-haired man growled, his voice so deep that she felt it reverberate through her.

  “Happy birthday, non-birthday, Tut,” returned the Frenchman with a slight laugh. “Though, you should know that you’re dangerously close to putting on a show here. I get the feeling that sharing this one wouldn’t go so well for me.”

  “Auberi,” said the man under her, his voice even making her think of Malik. “No.”

  Auberi snorted as Stacey tried to mirror Brooke’s actions on him. He didn’t pay her any mind as he looked over at Brooke. He smiled and winked.

  Brooke eased backwards on the man’s lap, wanting to look her fill of the hot specimen below her. He had a body that could turn any head. She pushed open his shirt more—and froze.

  The very same tattoos that Malik had were on the man, though there were considerably more tattoos around them than she recalled Malik having. Still, thoughts of Malik crashed into her.

  The man under her couldn’t be Malik. He was dead. Haneez had been very clear that they’d spared Malik no torture before giving him the death he’d begged for. He’d even shown her pictures of the scene of the murder. It had been pure gore.

  And it had been her fault.

  Haneez had made sure she understood as much. And there hadn’t been a day that had gone by that she didn’t remember that horrible fact. She’d cost a man his life. A man who had given her the most incredible gift ever.

  Even though reason said the man she was with now couldn’t be Malik, she found herself desperate to verify as much. She tugged at his shirt in an almost crazed state. He didn’t try to stop her. When she saw another of the tattoos she remembered, everything around her seemed to slow.

  “Son of the god king,” she said softly, tears welling as her hands began to tremble.

  The man caught her wrists and tipped his head. “What?”

  “Listen, asshole, either you tell me if this girl works here or I snap your neck,” a man with a deep voice said from outside the VIP room. “Look at the picture. Tall, knockout, brown hair. Trust me, you’d remember her. There might be a hot redhead with her.”

  Gasping, Brooke pushed off the man under her as the hair on the back of her neck rose. She didn’t need to be told she was the one the man was looking for. And she knew who he was with.

  The Corporation.
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  Brooke grabbed Stacey, who was trying very hard to excite Auberi, who seemed almost bored with her.

  Stacey tried to shrug off Brooke but it didn’t work. “What the hell?”

  “Get out of here. Go out the back way. Don’t stop for any reason.” Brooke stared down at the woman she didn’t particularly like. “The men coming can and will kill you. Go!”

  Stacey backed up, fear and confusion showing on her face.

  “You need to go too,” she said to the men in the chairs. Neither made a move to get up. “Follow Stacey. She’ll get you to safety.”

  Brooke could run as well but she knew the men coming were far more than human. They’d catch her quickly, and she couldn’t have that. After just over four years of running from The Corporation, she’d learned a thing or two about being prepared. She hurried to the other side of the VIP private section and grabbed a chair, pulling it over and standing on it. She pushed open one of the vents and pulled out a bag she’d stuffed there months ago.

  Brooke grabbed the burner phone from her bag and pressed the button for Edee. Edee answered on the second ring. “They found me. Get to safety. If I’m not there by morning, they have me or I’m dead. Take her and run. Just like we talked about. Get her to one of the boys. It doesn’t matter which. They’ll find one another. And be safe.”

  “Ohmygod,” said Edee. “I’ll keep her safe. Be careful. I forbid you from dying or being caught. Do you hear me?”

  Her throat tightened. “If I don’t make it, make sure she knows how much she was loved.” Brooke hung up and put the phone back into the bag.

  In seconds, she was yanking out clothing from the bag. She jumped off the chair and put her back to the high rollers who either didn’t understand what she’d said or were incredibly stupid, because they still hadn’t moved.

  Hot and stupid.

  Figures.

  Brooke tossed the mask aside, still keeping her back to the men. She put on the black workout pants in record time, ripping off the stupid skirt she’d been forced to wear. It was pointless and the last thing she wanted to be in while dealing with the men coming. She yanked off the barely there costume top and yanked on an exercise cami.