Hurt by her actions, he’d pulled back.
And what had that accomplished?
Nothing, other than shoving her even further away. He wanted back the intimacy and ease from the day they’d spent together. They were facing the unknown and needed to work as a unit rather than two separate entities. Not easy for either of them as they were both used to functioning solo.
I’m worried about dying. I’m also worried about living. What happens then?
Her words pummeled him. Of course, she was worried about dying. Any normal person would be. But worried about living?
He let his head fall forward and rubbed the back of his neck.
I’m an idiot.
She was concerned about what came after. He was immortal, and she wasn’t.
He would have to watch her age and die.
The unfairness hit him with the force of a sword to the gut. Anguish swamped him. He dropped to his knees, hands fisted on his thighs and teeth clenched to keep from roaring. He’d been so preoccupied with the present, he hadn’t thought about what came after.
If she stayed with him, he’d only have her in his life for a very short time.
Acceptance washed over him, a cooling balm.
So be it.
He was tired of living, of spending most of his time alone, isolated from others. He’d been an outsider in his own family, then an outsider when he’d been blessed—or cursed depending on the day—by a goddess. Century upon century had passed. Duty and service his only solace. For ten thousand years, the world had changed but he had remained the same.
Until Jo.
Weariness descended on him. Some would say it was too soon to care so much about her. But he wasn’t human. He’d seen civilizations rise and fall. Through all those years, only one woman had ever touched his soul.
Someone else would have to police the monsters that roamed the world. He was done. If he couldn’t have her in this lifetime, he’d chase her into the afterlife.
The rightness of his decision settled into him. He manifested a nail and dragged it across his palm. Blood beaded, and he licked it to seal the vow.
He pushed upright and went to find his woman. He had to figure out how to repair the tear in the fabric of their relationship. But that would have to wait. They had a club to visit.
…
“You ready?” It was the first words he’d spoken since they’d left his home. The walk through the city streets had been done in silence. Neither of them was sulking or angry. It was more that they were trapped in their own thoughts.
A couple of times on the way here, the back of her neck had prickled, and an uncomfortable sensation had washed over her, leaving her slightly sick to her stomach and itching to palm her Glock. It wasn’t just nerves because of where they were headed. Someone had been watching them.
Time to focus.
Asher seemed more himself again. She guessed he was allowed to have moods. Whatever happened between them in the future had to take a backseat to the problems facing them now.
“I’m ready.” The weight of the sword sheath on her back, the gun in the shoulder holster, and the crossbow beneath her coat gave her comfort. They were familiar and had saved her life too many times to count. She could do this.
Not like I have a choice.
That was the story of her life.
Asher placed his hand against the small of her back. Even through the layers of leather and fabric, she swore she could feel the heat from his skin. Or maybe it was the simple comfort of knowing he had her back that was making her warm.
“Don’t worry.” His deep velvet voice was a whisper in her ear, his hot breath fanning over it. The sensual caress had her blood heating. “You’ve got this.”
She nodded toward the main entrance. “Let’s do this.” The long line of hopefuls waiting to get into the club snaked down the side and around the corner of the building.
“Now I remember why I avoid New York hotspots. No place is worth waiting.” While the night wasn’t frigid, it wasn’t exactly warm. It was still only spring, and the temperature dropped at night.
“That’s not a problem for us.” Asher strolled straight to the head of the line, acting as though he had every right to be there. She trailed alongside, curious what he’d say or do to gain entry.
There was some grumbling among the masses waiting, but none of them actually said anything directly to him. Which proved they were smarter than they looked.
Asher didn’t even stop. Just kept on walking. The bouncer at the door glanced their way, appearing bored. He looked away, but then his head snapped back, and his eyes widened.
He either recognized Asher or at least knew what he was.
He scrambled to open the door, even inclined his head as Asher passed.
“Useful,” she yelled over the rising noise.
“I do try.” Keeping one hand on her back, he guided her toward the top of the staircase. The landing was rather wide with the stairs flowing off on either side. The scene below was mesmerizing.
Music pumped out of the speakers, making the floor vibrate. Lights flashed on the gyrating bodies on the dance floor at the far end. This had originally been a warehouse that had been converted a few years back into a dance club. The decor was a study in red and black and likely served drinks with cute names like vampire’s kiss and blood martini.
To each their own. She’d seen too much, done too much, to find the humor and fun in such things.
What wall space existed displayed huge pictures of classic vampires from movies and literature, each spotlighted for maximum effect.
Jo studied the people as best as she could. It wasn’t easy as there were a lot of dark areas and the lighting was dim, except for those that flashed over the dancers. No way to tell who was normal and who was paranormal.
The bulk of them had to be human, though. She wondered how many of them had any idea of the creatures that shared the space with them. To most of the undead, they were nothing more than meals waiting to be consumed.
“Left.” Asher eased her toward the stairs on that side. Since his senses were more finely tuned, she bowed to his judgment. Plus, she had no way of knowing who he might recognize.
He was one of them, yet not. That had to get lonely.
When they hit the bottom rung, a large black male almost seven feet tall materialized from the shadows and blocked their way. He wore black pants and a deep red vest, exposing his massive biceps. His shaved head shone in the flashing lights. “Gregori wishes to speak with you.” His deep voice rose easily over the music. “Come with me.”
Jo wasn’t even aware she’d pulled a dagger, but there was one in her hand, her fingers gripping the handle tight. This guy was huge. The blade wouldn’t slow him down at all unless she was able to slash his jugular. And she wasn’t even sure it would penetrate his thick neck.
“Tell him to come to my table.” Asher’s tone was calm and almost pleasant.
He had balls of steel and a tactical mind. This Gregori was obviously a major player around here. The kind who’d have information on everyone who came inside the door.
“Gregori wishes to see you,” the big man repeated.
Asher stared at the giant, who stumbled back as though he’d been shoved. “And I said he could join me at my table. Tell him Asher requires his presence.”
Wow, she hadn’t thought it was possible for a man with such dark skin to appear pale, but the bouncer or whatever he was suddenly looked ill.
The big guy held up his hand and snapped his fingers. A waitress scurried over to them. “VIP section,” he ordered.
“Thank you.” There was a chilly politeness to his tone that coated the air around them in an icy frost. Her skin prickled beneath her leather coat. Was her breath frosty? It should be, considering her core temperature had dipped several degrees.
<
br /> The giant gave a small shudder before he nodded and was swallowed up by the shadows.
“Shall we?” He took her hand in his and motioned to the waitress to go ahead of them. The young woman was scantily clad, as were all the servers, in fishnet stockings, high heels, a skirt that was barely legal, and a top that just managed to contain her bountiful breasts. The shoes and top were red. The stockings and skirt black. The effect was striking.
Jo didn’t have to worry about losing him in the crowd. People quickly moved out of their way as they followed the server to one of the areas mostly shrouded in darkness. They passed a brawny bouncer and went up a short flight of stairs. When she narrowed her eyes, she could make out a series of booths along the wall.
Some of them held people—impossible to tell what kind. Many were in various stages of undress and engaged in activities she was glad she couldn’t fully see.
Asher waited until she’d scooted inside before joining her on the plush bench seat. Only once she was seated did she slip her knife into her pocket.
“What can I get you?” the waitress asked.
He held up a fifty he must have retrieved from his pocket at some point and handed it to the woman. “Nothing for now. We’re waiting on someone.”
She nodded and licked her lush red lips. Her black hair was pulled back in a tight bun, exposing her long neck. “If there’s anything you need, anything at all, just let me know. My name is Marla.”
He stretched out his arm and rested it along the back of the booth, brushing Jo’s shoulders. “I have everything I need.”
The waitress nodded and disappeared, leaving them alone.
“Quite the place.”
She barely had the words out when a male voice replied. “I’m glad you approve.”
Chapter Thirteen
Asher forced himself to remain relaxed, not easy since the trip here had put him on edge. He’d caught several more blasts of malice as though someone couldn’t quite control their fury.
But who was it? And why was he the object of their anger? Whoever they were, he’d have to find and confront them as soon as possible. That kind of threat could not go unanswered.
The sensation had faded, the threat retreating, but he was still hyperalert. Being in this kind of place, surrounded by others of his kind, didn’t normally bother him. It was almost pleasant to be among those who were the most like him.
This time was different. All because of the woman seated beside him.
She’d palmed a knife when they’d been confronted. She was courageous, but the likelihood of her coming out the winner in any battle between the two was nil. He’d recognized what the bouncer was the moment he laid eyes on him. The fact that such an old vampire would work for this Gregori spoke volumes.
He was beginning to wish he’d left her at home. Not that she would have stayed. And no matter what they were facing, it was better they were together. That way he could protect her.
And that wasn’t him being chauvinistic. On a level playing field, he’d trust her to defeat any attacker. This field was anything but level. It was stacked with immortals playing games that had rules he didn’t fully know or understand.
It was time for them to learn his rules.
The male that stepped into the meager light shining down from a dim bulb directly over the private booth stood just shy of six feet tall. Asher wasn’t fooled by the lean build or the boyish smile. This one was old. At least several hundred years of age, maybe even a thousand. There was no disguising the push of energy that preceded him. In his time, he’d have been considered tall. His black hair was cut short in the back and styled to fall longer in the front.
“Gregori, I presume.” He didn’t stand. He simply leaned back and waited. Patience was always the key when hunting.
Gregori’s smile was genial, almost inviting, but he had to be worried by their arrival. Probably pissed, too. “I’m sorry you didn’t accept my invitation to join me at my table. I make it a point to meet newcomers.” He glanced at Jo. This time when he smiled, he flashed several sharp teeth. “Especially when they’re accompanied by such an unusual companion. Your eyes are quite stunning, my dear.” The refined tones in his voice could have come from any culture or period. He’d obviously honed it over time to enable him to blend in anywhere.
Jo didn’t rise to the bait, giving their host an enigmatic smile of her own. He decided to stir the pot a little.
“She’s much more than my companion. Although I agree with you, she is quite stunning.” He ran his hand over her hair, thankful she didn’t stab him. That might come later when they were alone again. “She’s also a hunter.”
That set their host back on his heels. His face turned impassive. “Really? That is curious. May I?” He motioned to the seat across from them.
“Of course.” Two could play the game of polite coolness. “And why don’t you invite your bodyguard. Or rather your lover.” He’d picked up hints of tension from the one in the shadows that went far deeper than that of a bodyguard. “He seems worried about you and angry at us for turning down your lovely invitation.”
The black giant emerged from the shadows, where he’d been since they’d sat. He’d tried to be discreet, but Asher had known he’d followed them. Likely, he’d spoken telepathically to Gregori, which spoke of a long relationship and a large measure of trust.
“This is Deacon, but you’ve already met.” Gregori’s lover remained standing, his muscular arms crossed over his chest in a move designed to intimidate. “And he said you called yourself Asher. I only know of one Asher.”
Tension grew the longer he went without speaking. Although Jo didn’t move, her shoulder grew taut beneath his hand.
“I have questions. Answer truthfully and you and I will have no problem.”
“You either have balls of titanium, my new friend, or you’re who you say you are. Either way, you are interesting.” Their host seemed more amused than frightened.
The older ones often grew bored with life and were always searching for new things to amuse them. Often to the detriment of humankind. They were a curiosity, but he understood that could easily change.
Gregori slid along the bench seat and patted the empty space beside him. “Sit down, Deacon. If our guest was planning to harm me, I’d already be dead.” He turned his attention back to Asher. “Am I right?”
“Yes.” No need to sugarcoat things.
“Well this is fascinating.” He tapped his fingers on top of the table. His nails grew into claws. An intimidation tactic? Maybe. Asher was inclined to believe it was more nerves than anything.
The waitress, Marla, stopped by the table and put two unopened bottles and four glasses on the table. As quickly as she’d arrived, she left.
It was quieter here, the soundproofing excellent, but there was no way to block the music pounding through the space or the hum of voices.
“I took the liberty of ordering champagne for the lady. Dom Pérignon, the best there is. Unopened, of course.”
Jo gave a nod. “Champagne would be lovely.”
“I knew him. The Benedictine Monk who is responsible for creating this.” Gregori handed the bottle to him to inspect. He didn’t hand it back, choosing to open and pour it himself. He filled two flutes and sipped the sparkling wine to make sure it hadn’t been tampered with before handing it to Jo.
She took a sip and a smile spread over her face. “This is lovely.”
“You’ve never had it before?” Gregori shook his head. “You have been most remiss,” he admonished.
His hackles went up at the insinuation he hadn’t been good to Jo. And maybe he hadn’t, not in that way. There’d been little time to indulge in such pleasures.
Beneath the table, she put her hand on his thigh and squeezed, a subtle reminder of why they were here.
“You’re not drinking?” He pointed
to the other bottle.
Gregori shrugged and poured two goblets of dark red liquid for himself and Deacon, who still had yet to speak since he’d joined them. The wine smelled sweet with a hint of cherry and laced with blood, a favorite among the upper crust. All societies had a hierarchy, and they were no different. The older and richer ones tended to look down on the newly made.
He studied the men sitting across from him. They were an odd couple, to say the least, but then again, most would say the same of him and Jo. Emotions were rarely logical.
He lifted the champagne flute and sipped. It really was an exquisite vintage. The two men were watching him intently. While vampires could enjoy wine if it was laced with blood, it was unheard of for one to drink it undiluted. It caused excruciating pain and the drinker would become violently ill.
“It is true, then?” Gregori raised his own glass in salute. “I admit, I thought all the things that were whispered about the mighty Asher to be little more than folktale. After all, I have been around a very long time and have never laid eyes on you before tonight.”
“Usually the only ones who see me are those who need killing. And they get a glimpse of me right before I end them.”
Deacon lunged across the table. Not toward him, but Jo. He grabbed the bigger man by the throat, halting his progress in midair. A blast of his fury blanketed the club. Everyone froze in place. All went silent. Only the music continued to blast over the speakers.
“You do not touch her. Not now. Not ever. I will not warn you again.” He released everyone from the thrall and shoved Deacon back. The noise level in the room grew once again, but the mood had changed. People were nervous and afraid without understanding why. Many of them—both human and vamp—headed for the exits.
“Well, that was exciting.” Jo lifted her champagne and took a rather large swallow. “But let’s try not to do that again. Okay?”
Asher lifted her free hand to his lips. “I can’t promise anything. A lot depends on our new friends here.” He looked across the table, allowing the power to surge inside him enough to turn his eyes blazing red. “As I said before, I have questions that need answers. You do that for me and I go away, and you never have to see me again. Try something stupid again or lie to me, and the consequences won’t be pleasant.”
Burning Ash (Forgotten Brotherhood) Page 13