All too soon, they left the bright lights of the stores behind and entered darker roads, where houses and large brick buildings occupied much of the space along the streets. Interesting, but not as exciting or alluring as the brightly lit and colourful stores.
The cab stopped. The vampire offered coin and a polite word of gratitude to the human male, and opened the door. The second he did, Tegan flinched. A heavy beat resonated in the air, a thumping that was accompanied by a cacophony of noises, grating sounds and screeching.
“Out,” the vampire said as he poked his dark head back into the cab.
Tegan reluctantly shuffled out of the vehicle, biting back a grumble as he struggled to get his feet over the lip of the door. Once free, he straightened and stared up at the dark red building in front of him. It was plain, a wall of brick that looked insignificant to him, lacked decoration and windows. Apparently, it was popular though. A stream of people lined the wall in the narrow street, pouring from the open double doors beneath the blindingly bright sign.
Underworld.
CHAPTER 4
The vampire pulled Tegan forwards, towards a large shaven-headed male dressed in black, bypassing the queue that lined the road outside Underworld.
The burly male looked them both over before settling a glare on the vampire.
“I am with him. He is a demon.” When the vampire said that, the male shifted his dark gaze to Tegan.
Tegan shrugged, unsure whether being a demon qualified him for entrance or not. The vampire seemed to think it did. The way the guard was looking at him said it didn’t grant him immediate entrance, but it did soften the hard edge to his pale eyes.
Tegan wasn’t sure of the protocol in this sort of situation, and many of the people lined up outside the club were beginning to stare at him. One or two of the females were openly ogling him too. He was tempted to glare at them and flash some fang, but kept his focus on the guard instead.
Because he was waiting.
For what? Coin? His name?
It never hurt to name drop a little, but he wanted to keep his own identity private. He wasn’t here as a king. He just wanted to be Tegan tonight. So he would have to drop a different name, one that was not his own. Besides, he doubted this male would know of him or be impressed if he mentioned who and what he was.
He would however know one of his acquaintances.
“I know King Thorne of the Third Realm.”
The male grunted, unhooked a velvet rope and eased back a step as he grumbled, “Try anything funny, vampire, and boss’ll slaughter you. Same goes for you, demon.”
Tegan inclined his head. “Many thanks.”
The vampire arched a final eyebrow at him and disappeared into the crowd, blending like shadows as he stepped through the open doors. Tegan supposed that would be the last he saw of him, unless the guard received word that he had been trying something funny.
He wasn’t sure what that meant, but he would do his best to behave and be civil, because despite the irritating volume of the noise emanating from the doors, he wanted to stay and explore this place called a club.
He wanted to see what was so exciting about it.
Tegan pulled down a subtle breath to steady himself, not wanting the male on the door to notice his nerves. He lowered the hand he held the book bag in to his side and ran his free hand over the shorn sides of his head. The lack of horns disturbed him, giving his nerves a stronger hold over him.
He would let them out as soon as he was away from mortal eyes.
Those mortal eyes tracked him as he moved forwards and he didn’t need to look to know it was females who studied him so intently. He ignored them and stepped into the dark embrace of the club. It took his ears a moment to adjust to the volume, but once they did, he found the beat less irritating, the screeching instruments less annoying. This was not music as he knew it.
The mixture of mortals and immortals packed into the large space jostled around him, bumping him at times as he ventured deeper, his nerves giving way to growing excitement as his dark eyes leaped around to take everything in. Ahead of him, the space opened up, the ceiling soaring so high it was difficult to make out even with his heightened eyesight. The black wall to his right continued, but the one to his left gave way, running at a ninety-degree angle to form a cavernous room that was packed with people who appeared to be carousing, drinking and dancing with each other.
It reminded him of the feast he had left at the castle, although this club seemed even more alive than that celebration had been. Everyone was in good spirits, many of the people pairing off with their choice of male or female, leading them away into dark corners or openly unleashing their passion in front of the watching eyes of the others. Intriguing.
The crowd was thickest to his right, where a colourful array of bottles lined the walls, bright lights dancing over them and the people who moved between them, filling glasses they then served to the patrons who waited at the black bar.
Tegan’s gaze caught on the lights and he found himself staring at them as they whirled, sweeping over the room and changing colours. They hurt his eyes, but he couldn’t stop staring at them. They were electric. They had to be, because he had never seen anything like them.
He had never seen such vividly coloured light before.
They constantly switched. White. Purple. Red. Yellow. Blue. Around and around they went, and the more he stared, the less aware of the world he became. The music dulled as his mind filled with questions and awe flooded his body with a strange urge to smile. Electricity. Perhaps if he moved closer, he could get a better look at them, could study them and decipher how they worked.
He lifted his foot to take a step forward.
Someone tapped his right shoulder, just above his pectoral.
A growl rolled up his throat as the world came crashing back and he sensed the presence of a strong male in front of him. He was tempted to make him pay for disturbing his study of the lights, but bit back his snarl as he lowered his gaze to the sandy-haired male who stood before him, a few inches shorter than Tegan’s seven-foot height.
“You look like a kid at Christmas.” The impudent male shot him a wide grin, flashing straight white teeth as his golden eyes lit up in a way that made it clear he was being mocked.
No male had ever mocked him and survived. This male would be no different.
Those golden eyes narrowed on him before he could even think about moving, warning that the male had sensed his rising intent to attack. The male folded his arms across his chest, his white shirt stretching tight across his honed muscles as he stared Tegan down.
“You should probably come with me before someone tries to mug you or something. It’s pretty bloody clear you’re fresh out of Hell.” The male unfolded his arms and slung a black towel over his shoulder, and something dawned on Tegan.
The male worked at the club.
Those serving behind the bar had similar towels and wore a similar white shirt with their black trousers.
It didn’t stop Tegan from wanting to flash fangs and snarl at him, even when the male was right. He had been dangerously caught up in something as basic as a coloured light, revealing to all present that he was new to this modern version of the mortal realm. He scanned the crowd, picking out a few immortals who were watching him with interest.
Tegan narrowed his eyes on them, making it clear he wasn’t a soft target. If any of them dared anything, they would meet a bloody end.
The sandy-haired male jerked his chin towards his right shoulder and turned, making his way towards the busy bar.
Tegan followed, carefully working his way through the crowd. A few of the females stopped what they were doing when he brushed past them, turning scowls on him that morphed into looks of fascination as they trailed up and up to meet his gaze. He could understand their surprise. The immortals in the club were tall, but he stood at least four inches taller than the rest of them.
The male went behind the bar and gestured to a space
on the other side of it when Tegan went to follow. “Patrons go that side.”
“What’ve we got here?” A pretty blonde female offered a smile to the male and a glance at Tegan.
“A newbie. I think he fell out of a portal or some shit.” The male grinned, his eyes lighting up with it again.
“I came because King Thorne of the Third Realm recommended this place.” Tegan wasn’t about to let them make him out to be some sort of greenhorn.
He knew he was out of place in this modern world, but he was experienced in many more things than the young immortal who seemed intent on mocking him.
“Thorne?” The male huffed. “Fair enough. I’m not going to complain if he sends business my way. Name’s Kyter. I run this joint.”
Tegan frowned at him. He dared to speak of Thorne with such little respect? The male was immortal, possibly a shifter judging by his scent, and clearly believed himself powerful because he owned this club, but that was no reason to speak of a king as if he was a nuisance and beneath him.
The blonde mortal just rolled her eyes and moved off to serve another patron, squeezing past a broadly built silver-haired male who looked between Tegan and Kyter, a concerned edge to his grey eyes.
Tegan had the feeling that if he attempted to put Kyter in his place and teach him to respect the demon kings, the male would have back up. Any fight that went down in this place wasn’t going to be one on one. He could probably handle Kyter, but he wasn’t sure he would be able to handle him and his companions if they all attacked at once.
He frowned at his line of thought.
He wasn’t here to fight at all. He was just on edge, in a strange place where he wasn’t sure of anything yet. It was bringing out his instinct to protect himself. He needed to shut that instinct down before it ended up overpowering him and getting him into a fight.
Kyter had been kind enough to notice him and take care of him. He wouldn’t repay the male by attacking him, no matter how little respect he showed Tegan’s fellow demon king.
The male scrubbed a hand over his tousled dirty-blond hair and poured something from a dark bottle into a tiny glass that was barely big enough to hold a sip of the black liquid. He set it down on the obsidian bar top and slid it towards Tegan.
Tegan took the pouch from his hip and opened it, selected a small gold coin and offered it to the male.
Kyter shook his head, disbelief colouring his golden eyes.
“It’s on the house.” He pressed his hand against Tegan’s, pushing the coin back towards him, and smiled. “How about some advice for free too? Look into credit and debit cards if you’re planning to leave Hell more than once a millennium. Plastic is king.”
It was?
Tegan nodded and slipped the coin back into his purse. He had heard of plastic, but hadn’t realised it was a form of currency. It seemed like such a worthless and trivial thing compared with gold, and he didn’t understand how it had more value, enough to render it a king among other methods of payment, but he would look into it as soon as he returned to the Second Realm.
Kyter moved away to serve the person two seats down and Tegan watched as the female produced a small rectangle and offered it in exchange for her drink. Kyter lifted it and flashed it at him, his grin stretching wider as he pointed at it. Tegan presumed that was the plastic the male had spoken of so highly.
Oddly, the shifter didn’t even keep it. He did something with it using some sort of device that the female also interacted with and then returned the plastic to her. The female went on her way with her drink and the plastic.
Tegan had a lot to learn about this world.
More than he had anticipated.
He looked down at the bag of books on his lap, a sense of urgency rising inside him. He had thought he had learned much in the last few years, but apparently it wasn’t enough. He needed to learn more. That need was vital, seized command of him and had him pulling a book from his hoard and flipping it open, the desire to know more about this world so strong that it consumed him.
He flicked the pages, greedily devouring the information as he sipped the drink the male had given him, enjoying the fieriness of it as it warmed his tongue and burned his throat. The brew was good, stronger than demon mead. It would go down well with his warriors. He would purchase a bottle before returning and would share it with the officers of his legions first to see if they enjoyed it. If they did, he would see about buying more bottles and keeping a stock of the fierce liquor for celebrations and feasts.
When his glass was empty, Kyter returned for it and slid him another.
Tegan stared at the male. If he asked him the thousand questions ricocheting around his mind, would he answer them? Tegan felt sure that he would, but he was busy, was already hurrying back along the bar to serve another person, and he didn’t want to impose on the male.
A shiver tripped down his spine.
Tegan ignored it, sure it was just the people around him looking at him and nothing to be concerned about. There were many different species in the club and his instincts were sure to label some of them as threats, even when they weren’t a danger to him.
He glanced across his shoulders in both directions, meeting the gazes of some of the people surrounding him. None of them affected him.
His eyebrows pinched and he lowered his book, so the spine rested on the edge of the bar as he focused on his body, on that sensation that lingered inside him, a feeling he was being watched.
His skin heated, a flush sweeping across his face and around the points where his horns were hidden, and rolling down his back, spreading over his shoulders like a wave of fire that ignited his blood. That blood rushed faster in his veins as his pulse quickened, heart thundering against his breast.
He stared at the glass of black liquid.
Was this unsettling sensation a reaction to it?
Or something else?
He twisted at the waist, eyes scanning the crowd as he tried to pinpoint the source of the feeling that continued to hold him in its grasp, refusing to abate.
Was it someone watching him?
A threat?
The crowd just over his left shoulder parted, giving him a glimpse of a female who stole the breath from his lungs as his eyes landed on her.
His ears grew pointed, the reaction to the sight of her so swift and powerful that he couldn’t stop the change from happening. His back itched, his wings pressing for freedom at the same time as his horns began to break through the skin above his ears. He absently raised his hands to cover them, some part of him, the only part of him not focused on the lovely female, aware that allowing his horns out would land him in serious trouble.
She laughed, her beautiful face lighting up with it, and his heart missed a beat before slamming hard against his chest, battering his ribs as if it wanted to break free of them.
He had never seen anything like her.
Her hair was like the ocean, a beguiling blend of blues, turquoises and greens with hints of purple. It tumbled around her slender bare shoulders in rippling waves, caressing skin as creamy as tropical sand, the tips breaking against a black bodice. He dragged his gaze over the ample swell of her breasts, up the smooth column of her throat that had his fangs itching to descend, to a face that was both lovely and delicate, and sinfully seductive.
She was a sylph. A siren. No. A mermaid.
A male fantasy made flesh and blood with her colourful hair that matched her striking green-to-blue eyes, her pixie nose and full rosy lips, and a body made for sin, petite and packed with curves.
The urge to go to her, tangle his hand in her hair and attempt to bend her to his will was almost overwhelming, had his hands dropping from the sides of his head as he went to stand.
Her eyes swept over the crowd, stilling him as they skipped past him, a hard edge to them that warned him that attempting to control her would be as foolish as attempting to tame the sea.
Her gaze suddenly locked with his and a million volts arced through him,
lightning striking hard and fast, leaving him shaken as he stared at her, breathless and reeling. The world faded around him as the distance between them seemed to shrink to nothing and a question pounded in his mind.
Who was she?
Another followed it as she turned her cheek to him, and his gaze tracked the direction of hers and he saw she was with another male.
A growl curled up his throat, the rumble so low no one would hear it over the pounding music, and the tips of his horns broke through his skin as his fangs extended.
The urge to fight flooded him, so fierce and violent that he had to wrestle for control, had to force himself to turn away from her before he succumbed to it. His claws elongated and he dug them into the wooden bar, anchoring himself to it as the dark desire to tear the male away from her and utterly destroy the bastard blasted through him.
What the hell was wrong with him?
CHAPTER 5
Suki tried to tear her gaze away from the male who had captivated her so completely as she sensed her sisters nearby, felt one of them tug on her arm.
“Suki, you even listening to me?” Allura. She didn’t sound pleased. “I’m out. Vidia is too. You’ll be alright on your own?”
She nodded dumbly, not really taking in what they were saying.
Until Vidia spoke.
“Ho-ly fuck! Is that who I think it is?”
Allura sounded just as shocked. “Oh boy. If the mistress knew he was here, she would have a fit.”
Why would their mistress have a fit if she saw this man?
Before she could ask, Vidia said, “To think… the one who got away is sitting right there. If I wasn’t so full, I’d have a shot. I can’t blame Cyrena for attempting to bang him.”
Attempting? The mistress had failed to seduce this man?
Allura moved away from her. “Like you could seduce him? He’s un-seduce-able. The succubus who bags and tags that trophy will be crowned queen.”
Suki’s eyes popped wide.
Bingo.
Suki was fairly certain that there was no such word as un-seduce-able, or at the very least it shouldn’t exist in succubi language, but if she could succeed where Cyrena had failed, her clan would have to recognise that she belonged with them.
Seduced by a Demon King Page 4