by Chloe Adler
“Ummm, hello, people. I’m still here,” Chrys said.
“We’re accepting of your sexuality, Chrys. You said you’d be accepting of ours,” said Sadie
“What’s to accept about mine? That it’s boring?”
“I’m totally going to tell Carter you said that.” Sadie’s smile was mischievous, one side of her mouth crooked upward.
“What did she say this time?” Carter asked, entering the kitchen in one of Chrys’s robes. He looked good enough to eat. Too bad he wasn’t even remotely bi. I was a good-looking guy but Carter put even me to shame. The man’s eyes could only be described as smoldering. Actually, pretty much all of him smoldered.
“She was telling us about your super-hot sex life,” I said, smiling, hoping to get a rise out of him.
“Did she tell you she loves it when I bite her tits as she’s com—”
“Carter!” Chrys exclaimed. “Why would you tell them that?”
He shrugged. “Because it’s true.”
“Tea?” she growled, trying to change the subject.
Our living room was fantastic. In accordance with Burgundy’s love of all things Moroccan, the place sported thick, red wool rugs of Middle Eastern design. Red paper lanterns mixed with black wire lanterns, all hanging from the ceiling below elaborately trussed, billowing red drapes. The seating arrangement was all velvet, a couch and two chairs with a carved wooden table nestled between them. Burg was constantly rearranging the room or tweaking the décor, although her style remained the same. Over the years she had also taken to collecting Day of the Dead paraphernalia to remind her of her hometown. A dead bride and groom statue here, a painted skull there . . .
I was lounging on the red velvet couch, reading a book and waiting for Burgundy and Chrys. It was one of those rare nights when neither Burg nor I was working, and after a lot of coaxing and some minor begging, we’d talked Chrys into coming with us.
It didn’t hurt that Carter was there working, and though Chrys did not like the V, she loved her man. Plus it was a boon that she’d been allowed back in after being banished by the owner, Benedict, for performing magic on the premises. But later, Benedict had been so grateful to her for saving his favorite employee from madness that he—and damn near every vamp in Distant Edge—had practically granted her carte blanche. Too bad the arduous and experimental spell Chrys had used to save Carter required her blood as the secret ingredient. She wasn’t in a hurry to try it out on others.
Burgundy’s cell phone rang on the coffee table, where she’d left it. Her brother’s name appeared.
“Hey, Juan, what’s up buddy?”
“Hola, Jared, como te amo?”
“Bien, y tu?”
“No estoy bien. Maria is there?”
I leapt off the couch. “Yeah, one sec. I’m so sorry to hear. Hold on buddy, I’ll grab her.”
“Gracias.”
“Burgundy!” I called, then ran through the living room and down the hallway. Not waiting for a response, I barged into her room. “Your brother needs to talk to you.”
She was standing in front of her full-length mirror, wearing one of her many elaborate outfits and fixing her hair. I handed her the phone and she motioned for me to sit on her bed.
“Hola, Juan, cómo estás?”
She paused, listening, and I plugged my ears with my fingers to give her some privacy. With my heightened senses, it was only polite.
She shook her head. “No, no, it’ll be okay. Juan, calm down. How’s Mama?”
The word “mama” shot through me like a physical arrow piercing my chest. I couldn’t hear that word without aching, even in casual conversation.
Privacy be damned. I took my fingers out of my ears, went to my friend, and put my arm around her. She clutched my waist and let me lead her to her bed, where I sat her down, maintaining physical contact with her while she spoke to her brother.
“Can you put her on the phone? Please?”
She turned to me while she waited. “My father left my mother. She didn’t suspect anything. My brother says he has a mistress.” She was shaking her head and I reached up to pet her hair but she pushed my hand away. “Don’t touch the hair.”
I yanked my hand back. “Oops, sorry. You look great, as always.” I pecked her cheek.
She turned her head away as someone came on the line. “Hola, Mama. Tell me what’s going on.”
She paused to listen and I rubbed her back.
“Your father,” her mother’s voice came through the line, heavy and tear-strained. “He’s left me for some puta. After eighty-four years of marriage.” She paused, sobbing quietly.
Burgundy put one hand on the bed. “Mom, please, I understand this is difficult but you are going to be fine. You’re a survivor, and you can’t run away. How many times did you move us during our childhood because of vampire haters? Granada is your home. Who cares what Dad is doing now? And if he was cheating, then you’re better off. You deserve the world. You are one of the kindest women I know.”
As she paused to listen, her mother’s soft cries filtered through. The sound caught my heart like an invisible lasso, squeezing it to a standstill. Since my parents had died, Burgundy’s mother had been the closest thing to a mom I’d had, even at a distance. She called to check up on me a few times a month and had flown out here several times, always including me in her plans to see her daughter. I loved the woman dearly.
After another moment, Burgundy passed me the phone.
“Hola, Mama,” I said, steeling myself for her tears.
“Jared,” she sighed heavily, “you take care of my daughter, yes?”
“Always,” I said and meant it.
“We know she’s not as strong as she pretends to be.”
“Yes,” I agreed, “but how are you right now?”
She was crying again, lightly. “I have been better. At least I have Juan here and as soon as I am able, I will come to a visit. At this momento I have so much to do aqui and my heart, it feels broken into a piece.”
“I understand. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do. We can even come to you if you need us to.”
“No, no Jaredito. I want you to keep with your lives. I . . .”
“What is it?”
“After eighty-four years. I do not understand why it is. He never said he was unhappy.”
I didn’t know what to say. Burgundy’s father was not my favorite person. He never acted outright homophobic, but something about him just screamed judgmental prick. Plus he could be so damn condescending. She was better off without the jerk, but telling her so wouldn’t help right now. “Some things are not for us to know, Consuela. The ways of others are a mystery.”
“Yes, yes. Good boy,” she said back to me. “My Maria is so lucky to have you.”
I always did a double take whenever someone used Burgundy’s birth name.
“Always, Mama, she is like my blood.”
“How is your sister?” Consuela asked.
A pang and then bile. “She is fine. But I miss her so much.”
“Will she not come to visit?”
“I hope so.”
“In Europe still?”
“Probably.” This time Burgundy reached out and cuddled me. My older sister was a painful subject.
“You two take care of each other. I love you, Jaredito. Can I talk to my girl again?”
I handed the phone to Burgundy, who stood up and walked back to the mirror. I left her to finish her conversation in private and waited for her in the kitchen.
“Jared, come sit down, you’re going to wear a groove in the wood floor,” Burgundy said to me when she entered a few moments later.
My fists were balled at my sides. “How dare he hurt her.”
“My father? I don’t know what’s really going on.”
“He’s a fucker, that’s what’s going on,” I growled.
“Hey, hey. There are two sides to every story. My dad’s my hero. There must be a part of the puzzle
that my mother doesn’t know.”
“From everything I’ve heard, your dad sounds like he was kind of a jerk to you growing up.”
“He did the best he could. Plus, he bought me this house. Neither of us would be where we are without him.”
She always made excuses for him and I never understood why. “Whatever. He’s a filthy-rich lawyer who should help his daughter. That’s what parents do.”
She shook her head, sighing loudly.
“He’s hurting your mother and brother, who have treated me like one of their own. I can’t believe you aren’t angry. Personally, I won’t stand for it.”
“Really? And what are you going to do?”
She had me there. What could I do, on a bartender’s salary, with nothing to call my own?
“I may not be angry but I am upset.” She ran her fingers over my arm. “Let’s take our minds off of things.” She pulled me out of the kitchen and down the hallway toward my bedroom, making me despise her vampire strength.
“Burg, I don’t want to engage in anything sexual right now.”
“That is not why I’m bringing you to your bedroom. Please?”
“Oh, okay, sorry.” I entered my room and she followed.
“Let’s just get to the V.”
I went to my closet and rummaged for something to wear. “I wish your mom hadn’t brought up my sister.”
“Yeah,” her voice carried, “I thought that might be it.”
Sitting down hard on the floor of my walk-in, I buried my face in my hands. Samantha. I wish you’d come home.
Chapter Three
When we arrived at the V Club, the music was thumping. Benedict Volkamoff, the owner, had modeled it after a modern-day speakeasy. High ceilings soared with exposed wooden beams and metal ductwork. The brick walls were painted black, and velvet-lined booths nestled among mahogany tabletops. There were platforms and a stage, all sporting stripper poles. The black concrete floors were cleaned daily, no stickiness found here. One would think the club, as clean as it was, would smell of bleach or antiseptic, but it smelled more like aged oak barrels. I always wondered how Benedict made that happen, but with a town full of supernaturals, I’d learned not to ask.
I sat at the bar with Chrys so that she could chat up her boyfriend. Burgundy disappeared into one of the back rooms, a.k.a. sex rooms, almost as soon as we arrived. She’d tried to get me to follow her but I was still angry. Nursing my drink at the bar was not pulling me out of my mood.
“Hey, buddy,” Carter said. “What’s wrong? You’re brooding.”
Chrys playfully punched my shoulder. “That’s nothing new. He’s been stuck in brood mode for a few months.”
What was she talking about?
Carter hmmed, then grabbed my drink. It was a scotch and water and he added another shot of scotch before sliding it back over to me. “This should help.”
“Thanks, man,” I said. “I’m kind of pissed off right now.”
“Well, the next act may help.” Carter jutted his chin toward the stage and I turned to look as the music changed.
And there he was. A new guy I’d never seen before in a full tuxedo, starting a slow, rhythmic dance. He was gorgeous, yes, but as a V dancer, that was a given. This one, however, was different. His disheveled hair hung straight and dark over his lovely, boyish face. Chinese? Perhaps Korean. I should know these things.
There was wild abandon in his movements, as though he couldn’t care less if anyone found him intriguing. I slipped off my barstool, moving closer to the stage, and plopped myself at a table near him.
One button, two buttons, three buttons, four. This guy was enjoying the tension he created, keeping the audience on edge. His carefree attitude said he didn’t notice the men and women hanging on his every movement like cliff divers standing at the edge of a steep precipice.
Hey hunky, over here. Look at me. See me. But he didn’t. His eyes roamed over the back wall, unfocused, as the audience drank him down. Women licked their lips, smoothed their dresses and fluffed their hair. Men grinned or bit their lips. Most of the crowd was perched on the edges of their chairs or rubbing their thighs together absently.
Back at the bar, Carter was grinning at me, and then at Chrys, who blinked her pretty brown lashes at him. Adorable, the woman only had eyes for Carter.
The stripper was, by now, almost naked. Like most strip clubs—not that anyone ever called it one near Benedict—no one got completely naked here. Leaving something up to the imagination was always sexier.
Wearing a silk G-string in cobalt blue, unless this guy had stuffed the front, he was packing. His hips shifted left, then right in hypnotizing gyrations. Entrancing. The sharp sting of whiskey from another table assaulted my senses, momentarily distracting me.
The dancer brought me back. His hands and feet gripped the pole like a monkey up a palm tree. Wow. Just wow. A shouted expletive from a man at the table nearest me pierced the collective silence. As if his exclamation had given us all permission to breathe again, appreciative murmurs rolled through the room.
Halfway up, he clamped onto the pole with one hand, then slid off and out at an impossible angle, his legs pointing to the corner of the ceiling.
A woman shrieked and clapped in delight as he held his entire body weight up with two hands and one arm.
A hush descended as the acrobat swung his body around in a perfect line, completely defying gravity. In midair, he tucked into a front flip and landed perfectly on a mat, arms up to the sky.
The roars were thunderous as the entire club rose from their seats, myself among them. We clapped and roared, the man bowing and disappearing backstage before the exaltation ceased.
I headed to the bar, where Carter was holding up a fresh drink for me, grinning inappropriately.
“Spill,” I said.
“New boy. It’s all I know. Hired yesterday.”
“New boy? That’s no boy.”
Carter laughed.
Chrys leaned over the bar and playfully slapped him. “Should I be worried?”
“Of course not, sweetheart.” He kissed her long and hard. I looked away out of respect for Chrys. “I was scoping him out for Jared.”
“Why?” I asked.
Carter shrugged. “I thought you two would make a cute couple.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t do couples.”
“Maybe you should,” Chrys added.
“Now that you’re coupled, you think everyone else should be too? You sound like drug addicts. The first one is free . . .” I trailed off as the man who had just put on that phenomenal show approached the bar.
He sat down next to me on a barstool. “Carter, can I get a tonic water please?”
“You want anything in that water, Alec?” Carter asked.
“A squeeze of lime is fine. I’m still working.”
Carter nodded, already reaching for a glass below the bar.
“Oh . . . and you could introduce me to your friend,” said Alec, turning to face me.
“Of course,” Carter responded, trying to hide his smile. “Alec Wong, this is Jared Weks. Jared, Alec.”
Alec proffered his hand; it was cold to the touch. Vampire? “Nice to meet you, Jared,” he said and then beamed me a smile that plunged my heart straight to my feet.
He had not smiled onstage and now I knew why. The women would have died of heart attacks and the men would have shot their loads in their pants.
“N-nice to meet you, Alec,” I stuttered. I actually stuttered. I never stuttered. But Alec just kept smiling at me, a genuine smile that crinkled the corners of his deep brown, enchanting eyes.
“Out of ice. Be right back,” Carter said before hurrying off.
“I noticed you in the audience,” Alec said.
“You did?”
“I did.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t want to point out that he’d seemed oblivious of the crowd. That would have sounded weird. “Your show was remarkable. Different from
anything I’ve ever seen before.”
“Have you seen any Chinese acrobats?”
I laughed nervously. “No I can’t say that I have.”
“What I did out there is known as Chinese pole. It’s quite common for men in the theater and circuses in China. Here in America, women mostly pole dance, but overseas, it’s a show of strength, not sex appeal.”
I flashed a smile. “You’re from China?”
One nod.
“Did you know we have a circus here in Distant Edge? Maybe you could audition there.”
His eyes brightened. “No, I didn’t know that.”
“So, why’d you leave China? And why the Edge?” A polite way of asking Are you Signum?
“Why so many questions?” His playful tone contrasted with the look in his narrowed eyes, like a snake ready to strike.
Instinctively I leaned back but he placed his hand on my thigh, jutting out his chin. “Why talk at all?” His intense gaze warmed, the wariness bleeding away, but his eyes still roved over me like a predator hunting its next meal.
“Um . . .” I laughed.
“Can I meet you after my next set? I’ll be finished in an hour.” He nodded toward the stage, where a petite brunette was dancing. “I have one more after her.”
“Is it as riveting as your last dance?”
“Why don’t you watch and see?” he teased as Carter returned with his drink.
“Great set, Alec. Here ya go.” Carter handed him a highball with a lime wedge on top.
“Thanks, Carter.” He turned to go, then stopped, leaned down and pressed the cold glass to the side of my neck. I shivered but didn’t move. He rolled it back and forth, putting his other hand on my shoulder. Leaning in, he held my eyes for an agonizing beat, then leaned closer and took my mouth. The kiss was divine. I wanted to reach out and pull him onto my lap, smother him with my body. But I forced myself to hold still as he pushed his tongue into me, exploring softly. Hints of chocolate and maple syrup flooded my senses as I tongued him back, expertly grazing his eyeteeth to check for fangs. Nothing. That ruled out vampire. He did the same to my teeth, then placed his drink back on the bar with a clunk without breaking the kiss. Pushing himself into me, he practically straddled my lap. We were chest to chest. I grabbed his ass and pulled him close. He was as hard as I was and we briefly ground against one another, still kissing deeply. The kiss was different somehow. It was strong, but tender at the same time. There was desire there, yearning, but no desperation. More of a timid response. This one knows the effect he has on others and is in no hurry to consummate.
