“Wow,” I said.
She turned to look at me and smiled.
“You look … you look … I’m speechless.”
Her smile widened and she tilted her head to one side as she spread her arms. I understood the question without words.
“Yes, you pass. Any man would love to have you kneel at his feet.”
She lowered her eyes and, I knew, if she had been in her human form she would have been blushing. I crouched down next to her and took her paws in my hands.
“Sweetheart, you sure you want to do this?” I asked.
She nodded emphatically.
“Let me guess,” I said. “If you’re not with me I’ll only get into trouble, right?”
She gave a soft barking noise that I’d learned to interpret as laughter. I took her face in my hands and gently kissed her on the nose.
“Anna said you needed some help with something,” I said.
She nodded and leaned forward to lick my face. Then she pointed at the bed and a bag sitting there. I stood up and checked inside. There was a black leather collar with fine silver embroidery. It matched, I noticed, the shoulder holster I’d given her last year. There was also a braided leather leash, coiled into a loop.
I turned and met her eyes.
“You're serious about the leash?” I said.
She nodded firmly.
“Okay,” I said.
I took the collar out of the bag and crouched down. I was about to put it on her when I caught the strange, intense look in her eyes. Something clicked in my mind. Marie could have put the collar on herself, or had Anna do it, but she’d wanted me to, for some reason, and now she was looking at me like I was holding an engagement ring instead of a collar.
“This is important, isn’t it?” I asked.
She nodded.
“This means something a little more than just part of your costume?”
Nod.
“So is this …” I hesitated. “Is this a gift from me to you?”
She shook her head. No.
“A commitment from you to me?”
No.
I thought about it, looking into her eyes.
“Is this like an engagement ring? A symbol of both of us? Our commitment to each other?”
She nodded and smiled.
“Okay, so you’ll explain it to me later?” I said with a smile.
She shook her head and smiled.
“So, I just put it on?”
Nod.
I reached around her neck and buckled the collar in place. The effect was startling—and arousing. Suddenly I had all sorts of urges I’d never had before. I swallowed, trying to clear my throat.
“And the leash?”
She smiled and nodded again, so I clipped the leash to the D-ring on the front of the collar. She leaned forward and tenderly licked my hand. I hesitantly reached out and stroked her head, causing her to close her eyes and push against my hand. I was starting to get a little uncomfortable with this, mainly because it was turning me on. Putting a collar and leash on my mate, no matter how canine she currently looked, was both the most disturbing and arousing thing I had ever done. It spoke to something deep inside me that I hadn’t known was there.
I scratched behind her ears and down to her neck, eliciting deep, sensual growls from her. She bent forward and nudged at my crotch with her nose.
“Hey, now,” I laughed, pulling my hand back. “Enough of that.”
She glanced up at me and smiled before nudging again.
“No,” I said firmly, giving the leash a gentle tug. “Bad girl.”
She sat back on her heels and gave me a toothy grin, and then she nodded slowly.
“Yes?” I asked. “Yes you’re a bad girl or yes that’s the response you were looking for?”
She nodded again.
“Both?” I laughed. “Okay sweetheart. So you’re not going to be offended if I treat you that way at the club, right?”
Nod, smile.
“We really should have discussed this before you changed,” I said.
Nod, shrug.
“Hang on,” I said. “I’ve met werewolves who can talk in wolf form. How come you can’t?”
She gave me an embarrassed look.
“Wait, you can?”
She lowered her head, refusing to meet my eyes.
“Marie?”
Her velvet muzzle wrinkled back in a tiny snarl. She obviously didn’t like this line of questioning, but taking hints has never been my strong suit.
“Sweetheart?”
“Hate … voice,” she growled in a deep, gravelly tone. “Sound … male.”
“Sweetheart,” I said, leering at her beautiful, furry cleavage, “there’s nobody could mistake you for male. Trust me.”
She cocked her head to one side and rolled her eyes.
“Okay, sweetheart, you don’t have to talk if it makes you uncomfortable.”
She smiled and touched my cheek with one soft paw.
“I love you, too, honey,” I said.
She laughed and threw her arms around my neck, holding me against her. I wrapped my arms around her, loving the warmth of her skin, the softness of her fur, and the firmness of the body beneath. I buried my face in her neck, smelling the scent of her, subtly different in wolf form than human, now mixed with the rich smell of the leather collar.
“You ready?” I said softly.
She nodded. I stood up and watched her rise to her feet next to me.
“Wow,” I said, openly admiring her figure in the scanty outfit. “What a pity you won’t let me do you like that.”
She rolled her eyes and lightly slapped me on the arm.
“I know; I’m a silly, sexy man.”
CHAPTER
29
We walked out of the bedroom to stunned looks. I couldn’t decide if the shock was at Marie’s outfit or at the leash, but everyone sat for a few seconds with their mouths open.
“You okay with that, Marie?” growled Cam.
“She’s fine,” I said as Marie nodded and grinned.
“Seems a bit disrespectful to me,” he said.
“That’s for her to decide, Cam,” I said firmly. “We ready to go?”
“Yep,” said John, coming to his feet. “Bolt’s gonna come with us and stay with me in the limo.”
“Good call,” I said.
“I thought so,” he said. “I’ll go bring the limo ‘round. See you downstairs.”
With that he gave his wife a goodbye kiss and he and Bolt left the room.
Jeurgen was looking at Marie like he wanted to crawl under the couch and hide—not too many werewolves in the Vatican, I suppose—but Eva seemed to be having trouble keeping her eyes off of me.
“I’ll call in when we get there and, if possible every hour afterwards,” I said. “Hopefully it won’t take too long. If I miss a check in, call the guys and find out if everything looks okay from the outside. If we miss two in a row we’re probably screwed.”
“Take care, boss,” said Anna. “You’re walking into a nest of vamps. I’d hate to lose you and have to spend all that time training the next guy who thinks he can run this team.”
“We’ll be okay,” I replied. “These vamps aren’t like the ones back home. These vamps are civilized.”
I said the last word with a perceptible sneer in my voice. I hated the idea of vampires—present company excepted, of course—trying to pretend to be ordinary members of society.
“Well, still, be careful.”
“Okay, Anna, we will,” I said. “Don’t wait up.”
“Fat chance.”
We left the suite and traveled down to the underground parking lot in the elevator. Marie was stood very close to me so I reached out and gripped her paw in my hand. She gave me a reassuring squeeze. When the doors parted, John had the limo less than ten feet from the doors with Bolt standing by the side. He gave a smart salute as he opened the door for us, then closed it and went around to sit in the fron
t.
John pulled the limo out and smoothly entered the light evening traffic.
Marie and I were sitting next to each other and she hadn’t relinquished my hand.
We rode in silence to the club, located in what was, according to their website, an old mental hospital on the outskirts of Paris. The little suburb had been fairly nondescript until the vampires moved in. Suddenly it had become the place to live for the fashion and status conscious French elite. As we neared our destination the cars on the road grew more and more expensive until, eventually, even the sleek black stretch limo didn’t look out of place.
John pulled the limo through a pair of open gates and along a gravel path. We topped a slight rise and I caught my first glimpse of the club. It looked like something out of a Victorian gothic nightmare and I found myself wondering how much was original and how much the vamps had added. There were heavy iron bars on all of the windows and the lawn had been carefully manicured around a pile of rusting gurneys and wheelchairs. The driveway curved around and headed back towards the gate. Parked on the grass were a half-dozen limousines and expensive cars. I spotted a Rolls Royce Silver Ghost in immaculate condition parked between what looked like the latest offering from BMW and a Mercedes that was unmistakably armored. On the other side of the road were a few taxis, all in the same livery. Obviously this was a taxi company run for or by the vamps themselves. A useful tidbit of information.
I glanced towards the front seat where Bolt was just hanging up his cell phone.
“Okay, boss, I let the team know we’ve arrived,” he said.
I nodded and went back to studying the club. Ahead of us a stretch limo that had been made out of some garish SUV was disgorging a party of giggling young women—corpsebait college kids out for that frisson of danger probably—and pulled away to the parking lot. John smoothly drew us up to the door.
There was a small crowd outside the doors, swollen by the new arrivals, kept back by the traditional velvet rope and the glaring, over-muscled bouncers.
John opened the door and Cam stepped out. Instantly the crowd went quiet. Even the bouncers, who looked like they regularly bench-pressed each other, lost some of their swagger at the sight of the huge werewolf. Bolt was standing next to the passenger seat, one foot inside the vehicle, scanning the area.
Apparently satisfied he closed his door and joined Cam. It all seemed way over the top to me but I wanted the impression clear: something important this way comes.
I stepped out of the car and turned to offer Marie my hand. The crowd that had gone silent for Cam broke out into astonished whispers as the scantily clad—and obviously female—werewolf followed behind the man who was clearly her owner.
Cam strode ahead of us and bent down to have a quiet word with the bouncers as we strolled toward the doors, bypassing the roped-in crowd completely. I heard someone identify me as some Italian porn star, another confidently claimed I was a big Hollywood movie star who was, apparently, laying low in Europe to avoid the press because of some drug scandal, and a third insisted I was the son of the current German Chancellor.
By the time we’d made it to the door—and through the gauntlet of lies and speculation—the bouncers were beaming at us and holding the rope aside. They were, from what I could tell, all human. Black t-shirts strained over muscles like a collection of turtles in a bag, and shaven heads gleamed in the spotlights. Cliché. Almost laughable.
I went in without stopping, not even acknowledging the bouncers, Marie and Cam behind me.
I had been expecting a dark interior with pounding music and flashing strobes. I was pleasantly surprised. Inside the club resembled the better class of gentleman’s club—and that’s the bushy-mustaches and quiet afternoons behind the Financial Times kind of gentleman’s club, not the sweaty, shabby euphemism for strip club type of gentleman’s club.
Sumptuous leather furniture and highly polished wood were abundant. Employees, both human and vampiric, moved through the lobby with the grave, thoughtful step of those about business too important to do anything as crass as hurry.
A buxom human woman with copper red hair and a clingy black dress flowed over to greet us.
“Sir John,” she said with a toothy smile. “How delightful to finally see you at our humble establishment.”
I recognized her from the pictures Eva had shown me, her soft, German accent simply confirming her identity.
“Frauline Khol,” I said, inclining my head. “A pleasure to finally meet you.”
“You flatter a poor hostess, sir,” she said.
Of course I didn’t, and she was no mere hostess. Frauline Khol was discreetly famous in certain circles, the human front for this club and Herr Sturmbannführer’s other enterprises, not to mention his current consort.
“Oh, how lovely!” she exclaimed, spotting Marie. “Sir John, I wasn’t aware you were bringing such a delightful companion! Will she be dancing for us this evening?”
“No,” I said. “She needs more training before I’ll allow her to dance in public. I wouldn’t want to be embarrassed.”
Besides, I wouldn’t allow my mate to dance for a bunch of suckheads to lust over, I thought.
Marie lowered her head as though ashamed of my assessment of her abilities while Khol gave a knowing nod. She looked up the slopes of Mount Cameron and drew in her breath.
“And such a handsome bodyguard!”
Cam reacted with supreme indifference to the look of naked lust the vampire lover was directing at him.
“I fear I am being overshadowed,” I said.
“Nonsense, Sir John,” she said, slipping her arm through mine. “Please, you are our guest, be assured of my personal attention at all times.”
She led us through the restrained dignity of the lobby and into a huge hall.
“Would you care for something with some privacy?” she asked, squeezing my arm possessively against her expansive chest.
“Absolutely,” I replied. “With a view of the stage.”
The rear of the room was dominated by a large stage. A pale, skinny woman in nothing but black stockings and a bright steel collar was slowly dancing to the subdued music. A vampire—presumably her owner—was watching appreciatively and swapping comments with his cronies. On the other end of the stage a muscular young man peeled off tight leather trousers to reveal a tight leather thong that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.
The hostess led me by the arm to a pair of staircases that spiraled up from the floor and led to a pair of balconies; private areas from which special guests could watch the proceedings. She took us up the left-hand staircase. At the top was a pair of overstuffed leather armchairs with a low table between them.
“If you need anything, Sir John,” purred Kohl, “anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask.”
She signaled to the rear of the balconies, where a private bar sat. A waitress in a traditional black dress and white apron hurried forward. Kohl gave her some instructions in a low voice and, with one final lingering smile at me, walked regally down the stairs.
I took a seat in the left hand chair, Cam taking up position behind me, his powerful arms folded over his massive chest. Marie took her place to my left, sinking to her knees on the thick carpet.
“Good evening, sir,” said the waitress in a soft French accent. “Can I get you anything?”
I ordered a glass of expensive Scotch whiskey and the waitress hurried away. I settled back and watched the stage. The woman had left the stage and was kneeling, still mostly naked, beside her owner. On the other side admiring female vampires surrounded the now-completely naked man. His owner seemed to be taking bids on him. Money changed hands and one vampiress reached out to stroke his erection before getting a firm grip and leading him away, quite literally, by the short and curlies.
The waitress returned with my drink and set it on the table. I smiled and thanked her. Must remember to leave an obscenely large tip when I go, I thought. I have an image to maintain.
&n
bsp; I glanced around the room. The dance floor was largely empty except for the gaggle of girls who, it seemed, had made it past the bouncer. No surprise there. Around the room was where the real action was. Tables sat in gloomy corners and small groups of vampires were sitting around discussing things of great import, apparently. These vampires had no slaves with them, no hangers-on. These were the really dangerous ones. The ones that came here because they had serious things to deal with.
I could almost see the ripple of conversation chase around the room, causing a discreet stir. Several vamps casually looked up at the balcony. I could almost hear the conversations—Who’s that human? Sir John, apparently. Sir John Winstanleigh? The arms dealer? He has a werewolf slave? What about that werewolf bodyguard?
Several vamps nodded or raised their glasses cordially. I returned each gesture, trying not to let my disgust show on my face.
Back on the stage a young woman with long, dark hair was stripping, slipping off a perfectly ordinary cocktail dress to reveal a rubber fetishist’s dream set of lingerie. As she peeled off item after item my hands began to clench on the arms of the chair. The sight of these slaves stripping for the pleasure of vampires was sickening me. The fact that they were probably too clueless or too mindbroken to realize what they were doing was irrelevant. How dare these vampires turn humans into toys?
Marie saved me. She could see my white knuckles and knew that I was losing my cool. So she gently touched the side of my hand with her cold, wet nose. I glanced down sharply. She gave me a soulful look that snapped me back to reality. Then she whimpered softly and nudged my hand again. I smiled, feeling the tension drain from my shoulders, and placed my hand on top of her head. I slowly stroked her fur as I picked up my drink and took a sip.
There was nothing I could do for the poor woman, or the guy now spending time with the vampire who had rented him. Any action here and now would be disastrous and ultimately self-defeating. All I could do was to make every effort to fight the vamps, every day, every way I could. And now it wasn’t just England. We could kick them out there but humans would still be enslaved elsewhere.
On the stage the now naked woman was being auctioned off, and one of the corpsebait girls had approached the vampiric Master of Ceremonies. He gave her an oily smile and an expansive ‘be my guest’ gesture. She giggled and, cheered on by her friends and several vamps, climbed drunkenly onto the stage to perform her own dance. The girl had no owner at the club, as far as I could tell, and would, therefore, be fair game for any vampire that wanted her.
Crusader (MPRD Book 2) Page 15
