Feral

by Sheri WhiteFeather

  “It’s fine. Quit fussing.”

  She didn’t take his advice. She tugged at the neckline again. “At least I bought a shawl to cover up with.” The evening wrap had been her idea, not the salesgirl’s.

  He plopped down on the edge of her bed and began stuffing his face with the popcorn, as if this were a movie he was watching on TV. “Covering up defeats the purpose.”

  She turned away from the mirror. “Do you have any idea how scared I am?”

  “All you have to do is go to his club.”

  “You told me the other night that a man like him would fuck me raw.”

  “Yeah, I know. But the money isn’t contingent on that. So just take that big fat donation and run.”

  “I don’t think it’s going to be that easy.”

  “What are you worried about, Jenny? That you’re going to want to fuck him?”

  “No.”

  “Liar. You know damn well you’re attracted to him. Can’t say as I blame you. If I was a chick, I’d do him.”

  “Jesus, Matt.”

  “I’m just saying.”

  “You could be a little more empathetic.”

  “What are you talking about? I helped you get yourself all gussied up, didn’t I? I spent hours at the mall, and I hung around at that frou-frou salon, too.”

  Clearly, his definition of “empathetic” differed from hers. “You flirted with every female we encountered, including the salesclerk and the stylist who mangled my hair. If the makeup artist had been a woman instead of a gay man, he would have been in your sights, too.”

  “I had to do something to keep busy.” He ate another handful of popcorn. “I wonder what Noah’s club is like. I’ll bet it’s really exclusive. It might even be at his house, maybe a Playboy Mansion–type place. Or it could be on a yacht. That would be kind of funny, huh? A dude named Noah with a big boat.”

  She rolled her eyes, and he laughed. She actually laughed a little, too.

  Then she sighed. “You’re right, Matty. I’m attracted to him.”

  “I know.”

  “I wish I wasn’t.”

  “Figure it this way: If you consider the lengths he’s going to in order to seduce you, you’ve got the upper hand.”

  “Him wanting me that much doesn’t make sense.”

  “It makes sense to him.”

  “I’m not going to sleep with him.” No matter how far or deep his seduction went, she was going to fight it. “He’s too wild for me.”

  “That’s fine. Just keep your cool. Being nervous won’t solve anything.”

  She glanced at the clock. “It’s only eight thirty. I got dressed too soon.”

  “So have some popcorn with me.”

  She sat next to him. “I can’t eat anything.” She bumped his shoulder. “But thanks for being here. I shouldn’t have accused you of not caring.”

  “No problem.”

  “Will you stay until it’s time for me to leave?”

  “Sure, and if you start feeling freaked-out when you’re there, call me and tell me where the place is, and I’ll come get you.”

  “Thanks. That means a lot to me.” It was as protective as Matt got.

  The town car arrived at nine on the dot, and the driver came to the front door to get Jenny. He was a properly attired middle-aged man with a professional attitude.

  Matt stood on the porch while she climbed into the backseat. He lifted his hand in a quick wave, and she was off to Lord knew where.

  Once the driver embarked on the freeway and headed south, she looked out the window and reminded herself to breathe.

  The final destination was downtown LA in a remote part of the city. No restaurants. No people. No Playboy-type mansions. All she noticed were industrial buildings.

  Finally the car stopped in front of a four-story structure surrounded by an iron fence. She suspected that it was a remodeled warehouse, and the way it had been redone gave it a distinctively Gothic vibe, with vaulted windows and decorative details. It even had gargoyles looming from the top of the building.

  The driver climbed out from behind the wheel and opened her door. They stood on the sidewalk, and he handed her a key card for the gate.

  “There’s a lobby inside,” he said. “Your host will see to you from there.”

  She assumed he meant Noah.

  He continued by saying, “When it’s time for you to leave, I’ll be here to take you home.”

  She unlocked the gate and advanced forward, where a darkened archway led to the front door. Jenny felt like a dumb B-movie heroine walking into an obvious trap. Matt entertaining himself with popcorn was nothing compared to this. If she had an audience, they’d be sitting on the edges of their seats, waiting for her demise.

  She opened the door and entered a dimly lit lobby. Victorian and medieval furnishings were mixed with modern Goth, creating a montage of scrolled woods, luxurious fabrics, and wrought iron twisted into menacing shapes.

  A group of people, dressed like vampires, werewolves, and creatures she couldn’t quite name, gathered in front of a hotel-style desk. Jenny got in line behind them, assuming that was what she was supposed to do.

  It was like Halloween on an erotic night.

  Everyone who wasn’t in costume was scantily attired. Even some of the costume-clad wore next to nothing. She removed her shawl to fit in a little better.

  She glanced at the other side of the room and noticed a set of ornately carved double doors. A bouncer stood in front of them. He was as big as a mountain and as stoic as a Buckingham Palace guard. Music pounded in the background, coming from behind the doors, which got louder every time they were opened and someone was granted entrance.

  The line dwindled and she made her way to the desk. The receptionist was blond, with enormous breasts crammed into a teeny-tiny see-through top. She also had a dazzling smile.

  The greeting was a bright “Hello,” followed by, “I just need to see your membership card.”

  Jenny handed her the key card. “I’m supposed to meet—”

  The perky girl cut her off. “Gate keys won’t get you into the club. You need a valid membership or guest pass.”

  “But Noah arranged it.”

  “Oh.” A light dawned in the blonde’s heavily lined eyes. “Then you must be Jenny.”

  “Yes.”

  “Noah told me to expect you. Hold on and I’ll let him know you’re here.” She stepped back and made a quiet cell phone call. Afterward, she said, “Just take a seat. He’s on his way.”

  “Thank you.” Jenny headed for a crushed velvet settee.

  Noah soon arrived. He approached her, but it took her a moment to realize it was him. In fact, she just sat on the settee and stared.

  He was in costume: part man, part mountain lion. His eyes, now gold with round black pupils, were completely reshaped to those of a cat. His nostrils were flared, and his long black hair was colored with tawny streaks, like the natural pelt of the animal he was imitating. He smiled, exposing long, sharp canines.

  She didn’t know much about special effects, but she was an expert on felids, and he looked outrageously authentic. Now she really felt as if she were part of a movie.

  Transfixed, she finally stood up. She wanted to touch his face, to try to see how something so lifelike was possible, but she kept her hands to herself.

  “You know more about mountain lions than you led me to believe,” she said.

  “Maybe I just know how to look like one. Speaking of looks, you’re a feast for hungry eyes.” He reached out to grasp a handful of her hair, feathering it between his fingers. “You’re breathtaking, Jenny.”

  She tried to keep his compliment from affecting her. Worse yet was his touch. She almost leaned into him. He was frighteningly tempting. “I don’t fit in here. I don’t even understand what this place is.”

  “It’s a supernatural-themed sex club. Some of us pretend to be mythical beings, and others present themselves as groupies.”

  She’
d obviously been cast in the role of a groupie. “Does this club have a name?”

  “It’s called Aeonian. It means ‘everlasting.’ My office is on the fourth floor. My apartment is up there, too.”

  “You live here?” She couldn’t fathom it.

  “It suits me.”

  Silence stretched between them, and he touched her again. Only this time he trailed a neatly trimmed nail along her collarbone. Jenny wasn’t sure how she was going to survive his allure.

  “Want to see a party trick?” Without waiting for a response, he lifted his hand from her skin and bared his claws.

  Yes, his claws. All ten nails burst forward in wildcat precision. He retracted them just as quickly.

  Her head all but spun.

  “I’m just a rich guy having some fun,” he said.

  A rich guy who could save her rescue. “Why did you pick me?”

  “Pick you for what? My prey? Because you fascinate me. Because the thrill is in the hunt. Because victory is going to taste hot and sweet.”

  Goose bumps peppered her arms. “Do you even care about the cats? Or are they merely part of the game?”

  “I care. I make anonymous donations to places like yours all the time. I’ve just never fucked anyone affiliated with them.”

  “You’re not going to fuck me, either.”

  He ignored her denial. “You aroused me from the moment I first saw you.”

  Her heartbeat skittered. “Where did you first see me?”

  “On your website. I was interested in more rescues to support and asked my accountant to do the research. He discovered that yours was the neediest and directed me to your site.”

  “So you decided to help me at a sexual price?”

  “That wasn’t my initial intention. But then I saw your picture and thought . . . why not?”

  “You chose me based on how I look?”

  “A lovely young zoologist with an affection for big cats who’s struggling to keep her rescue afloat. I was too intrigued not to pursue you.”

  Could he be any more daring? And could she be any more vulnerable? “How long have you owned the club?”

  “I opened it about five years ago.”

  “Have you been portraying a mountain lion all that time? Or have you worn other costumes?”

  “This is it. But I’m not portraying the animal itself. I’m portraying a shapeshifter. There’s a difference.”

  “What inspired you to create a supernatural theme?”

  “A mysteriously beautiful woman in Mexico gave me the idea.”

  It was an evasive answer and far too intriguing. Jenny still had the urge to touch him, to marvel at how authentic he looked.

  He said, “Before we enter the club, maybe I should tell you what to expect.”

  “You mean warn me?”

  A feral smile appeared. “I suppose so.”

  She expelled an audible breath. She’d wanted to know what to expect from the beginning. “Go ahead.”

  “The first floor offers a retro-style disco, a host of bars, some quiet alcoves, and a BDSM dungeon.”

  She scrunched up her face. “Is that one of those places where people dress up in leather and use whips and chains?”

  “It’s more varied than that. BDSM is a consensual lifestyle that involves bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, and sadism and masochism. It doesn’t necessarily include all of them, and the degree of activity and role-play varies.”

  “Are you into that?”

  “It’s not my lifestyle of choice, but sometimes I enjoy a bit of bondage.” He paused. “Restraining you would be exciting.”

  “I don’t . . . I’m not—”

  “Not what? Interested in being tied to my bed?”

  Noah bared his claws again, and Jenny tried not to flinch. This time his party trick seemed like a reflex. But after portraying the same character for so long, she assumed that his catlike behavior had become second nature.

  He continued to brief her on the upcoming tour. “The second floor is designed for voyeurism, and it’s consensual, too. Everything that goes on here is.”

  She had to ask. “Do you participate in voyeurism?”

  “I’m a good observer.”

  “What about being watched?”

  “That can be fun, too. I’d put my paws all over you right now if you didn’t look like your knees were about to buckle.”

  His paws? Was he trying to be funny? “My knees are fine.”

  “Does that mean I can caress you?”

  And cut her to shreds? His claws were still bared.

  He glanced down at his hands. “Oops. Sorry.” He retracted the sharp points and moved closer. “How about now?”

  She took a step back and bumped into the settee. “No.”

  “Too bad. I’m already half-hard thinking about it.”

  She fought the illicit temptation to sneak a peek at his fly. Luckily she was distracted by new activity in the lobby. Another group of club goers came in and headed for the desk. Jenny deliberately glanced their way. One of them was a woman costumed like a mermaid, with a bikini top fashioned from seashells that barely covered her nipples and an iridescent skirt that split at her ankles like a fin. She was long and lean and far too sensuous.

  “Voyeurism suits you,” Noah said.

  Jenny snapped her attention back to him.

  He tilted his head. “You focused on her to avoid looking at me.”

  She was still avoiding looking at him. Or at his fly, at least. She trained her gaze above his belt. If he was half-hard, she wasn’t inclined to find out.

  Struggling to defend herself, she said, “Did you know that humans are the only predators mountain lions have?”

  “Yes, but you rescue cats, not hunt them, so that doesn’t pertain to you. Which reminds me, the first place I’m going to take you is the Animal Shifter Bar. It’s on the main floor and is where my kind gathers.”

  She didn’t want to think about him or his make-believe kind. “You never told me what’s on the third floor.”

  “All sorts of creative activities. Food play, body painting, fake blood baths. The latter is a vampire ritual.”

  “The blood better be fake,” she mumbled.

  He responded with a click of humor. “The last time I checked, it was.”

  As he escorted her to the double doors, she took a big submerging breath, preparing to enter his bizarre domain.

  Three

  The main doors opened straight into the disco, with flashing lights and loud, wild music. In addition to the spinning strobes, black lights created ominous illuminations.

  Jenny struggled to take it all in.

  Clearly, your sexual orientation didn’t matter and neither did your chosen breed. You were free to play, talk, laugh, and dance, as dirty as you saw fit.

  Between the hot and hungry gyrations, the unfamiliar song blaring in her ears, and the mind-bending lights, her equilibrium was failing.

  She clutched Noah’s arm to keep herself steady. But it barely helped. As he led her through the disco and toward the Shifter Bar, other women kept bumping against him, touching him purposely. He was, quite obviously, a groupie favorite. But why wouldn’t he be? Not only was he gorgeously feral; he was megarich and he owned the club.

  Aeonian and everything in it belonged to him. Jenny certainly felt as if she were a piece of his property. He held her future in his hands. She desperately needed the donation he was offering. Of course she wouldn’t be here otherwise.

  Finally they exited the disco and came to a quiet hallway that led to a door decorated with a variety of fur, feathers, reptile skins, teeth, claws, bones, and hooves.

  Some of the pieces were faux and some had been derived from true animal sources, making the overall design a reminder of how odd this place was.

  Noah opened the door and they went inside. Bathed in a misty light, the bar was packed with predators, with plenty of groupies to go around.

  Jenny walked beside Noah,
and all eyes turned in their direction. His godlike presence was even more pronounced here. He escorted her to a table in the back of the room with a “Reserved” sign on it. She took a seat and prayed this night would end with her sexual sanity intact. He sat next to her, close enough to touch her if he so desired.

  At a nearby table, a woman whose naked body was expertly painted in the form of an eastern diamondback rattlesnake took the liberty of straddling a male groupie. She slithered up and down, rubbing against his bulging fly.

  Jenny shifted her gaze to another table, where a cat-eyed man whispered to the female groupie beside him. She was blond, like Jenny, and he was dark, like Noah, only his hair was short and spiky and he wore studs in both ears. He had a pierced nose, too. Edgy as he was, he seemed enchanted by his groupie, and she seemed equally enthralled with him.

  Jenny wondered if they were a committed couple, if they saw each other outside of the club. It was foolish, she supposed, to imagine them in a romantic relationship, but that was what she was doing.

  Curious, she kept looking at them. Then, suddenly, the girl began unbuttoning the man’s shirt, exposing a tattoo of a mela-nistic leopard on his chest. The leopard, or black panther as it was commonly known, was poised to strike, the ink strong and powerful against the man’s skin.

  Once his chest was fully bared, the groupie worked her way under the table and got between his legs. Although the tabletop covered the specifics, it didn’t take a genius to know what was about to happen.

  Too uncomfortable to watch, Jenny turned away, then locked gazes with Noah. In her delirium, she imagined putting her mouth on him, even though she’d never considered herself very good at performing that particular act.

  He stayed silent for a moment.

  Then he asked, “What are you in the mood for?”

  Her pulse skipped. “What?”

  “To drink?”

  “I don’t know.” She couldn’t think straight.

  “Should I recommend something?”

  “No, it’s okay. I’ll take a Bellini.” She struggled to create a normal conversation. “I had one of those the last time I went out to dinner.”

  “Then you’ll have one here, too.”