by L. A. Banks
As a master vampire, as soon as the tip of the incisor was out, the punctures in her neck should have vanished. But messing with a Neteru, it took three freaking nights to master that nearly impossible level of concentration with her in his arms. Now he was about to go do something really crazy. But no leftover, second-generation wannabe from before Nuit took this region was gonna take his club! Oh, hell no. Bastard bought that shit from the DEA on auction, and had renamed it? Without asking him? No respect.
Protocol demanded that when a new master stepped up, everything got realigned, and if you wanted something you had to earn it and get it ceded. But this motherfucker, Nitro, just did a power grab? Carlos could feel the wind rushing by them, and Damali's body become tense. He needed to make a visit to New York, Miami, Jamaica, St. Lucia, Toronto, Peru, and Brazil. Hot spots. Had to get his main jaun, LA, on lock. Do a couple of shakedowns, then word would be out. Control would be reestablished.
"Baby, aren't you going a little fast?" Damali said, her tone strident and loud to compete with the bass thumping from the speakers.
Carlos looked down at the dashboard and read the speedometer: 110 mph. This was nothing. "I'm cool."
"Uh… baby? What's on your mind?"
He shrugged, bopping to the music while he kept his eyes straight ahead. "Nothing. Just wanna get a drink. See a few people. Then, we can go somewhere alone." He wasn't looking at her as he yelled over the music. He could feel her clutching her seat belt and the blood draining from her knuckles. "Where we're going," he said slowly as the Chevy sped up and bounced when it hit a seam in the road, "you gotta follow my lead to the letter."
She reached out and turned down the volume.
"Carlos, where are we going? For real."
He glanced at her, taking his eyes off the road to study her thighs. He smiled when she gripped the dashboard and almost shrieked. The mild terror the ride produced within her, plus the adrenaline, and his own rage, not to mention the way she looked and the way she smelled was making him crazy, not just a little irrational. The speed was exhilarating. The night was perfect. Maybe, later, he could convince her to sit on his lap while he did 220? He chuckled.
"All right. I'll slow down. Just wanna go see my old club. Brings back memories."
Damali glared at him. "Your old club was seized by the DEA, and I don't think it's a good idea for folks to know you're alive… I mean, you know, around."
Her concern for him warmed his heart, but she just didn't understand. "Yeah, true. But they sold it at auction. Heard a guy in my territory picked it up, and—"
"Is it a vamp club, Carlos?" She sat back in her seat as the wind whipped her face. She pushed a loose lock back up into her ponytail, then crossed her arms over her chest.
"Baby, don't act like this. It's about power. Absolute control of my zones so that no matter where you are, there won't be no shit. Feel me?" He looked at her hard, and then looked back at the road, dodging slower-moving vehicles. There was a motorcycle cop up ahead. Carlos blinded them to his eyes as they blew past him. "When you go on tour, when you're out in the street, I don't want no bullshit. If lower levels are trying me, I need to get this locked down, now."
The fact that she didn't answer him, grated him. On one hand, he was glad that she wasn't being her normally stubborn self But if she didn't challenge his need to make a stand, then her gut instinct was registering something he didn't like. Her confidence in his ability to protect her was not as firm as it should be. That, also, could never happen again.
When he pulled up to the curb, he yanked a pair of black shades out of his leather suit breast pocket and put them on. He smoothed down his burnt-gold silk shirt, tucking it firmly into his pants, and steadied himself for the inevitable—drama when he walked in with the Neteru. He studied the change to his marquis. Club Vengeance was now Club Eternity… Yeah, we'll see, when I smoke that motherfucker who owns it.
Carlos, don't start nothing in here. Please. Damali noted the tension in his body as he put his arm around her waist, and pulled her in tight. This mess was prehistoric! She watched male vampires in line puff up a little as they took a step forward, then thought better of it, ran a testosterone sensory check over Carlos, backed up, nodded, then let him through, bypassing the long line outside.
Lower-level, third- and fourth-generation females snarled under their breaths at her, but gave Carlos seductive smiles that she did not appreciate. Cleavage was everywhere, some of it real, some of it plastic. Some of her stage outfits weren't as daring as what some of these women were wearing. Damali almost felt dowdy in comparison.
But an eerie defensiveness entered her as Carlos escorted her to the bar, his gaze roving over what was once his. She could feel his rage building the deeper they walked into the club. Every nuance, every change within his environment sent a jolt through him. His grip tightened on her waist as he glanced up at the VIP booth and what had once been his office.
She could feel it in her bones, like a summer rain coming. Her man was outnumbered, and all she had on her was the baby Isis, her short blade.
As soon as the thought crossed her mind, his head jerked around and he pinned her with a hard stare. His gaze was so intense that it nearly burned her. She could see red flickering behind his dark shades. The warning in his eyes was implicit—Don't ever doubt me like that! Not here! He pulled away from her and offered her a seat, running his tongue over his incisors and breathing slowly through his nose.
She touched his arm gently. He looked down at her hand and nodded. She let her breath out very slowly. Okay, she had to learn the nuances of vampire culture fast and on her feet. But, then again, it wasn't all that different from life as she knew it on the streets. Primal. Alpha males in full force. Any hint of weakness was quickly sniffed out, any sign of disrespect swiftly dealt with. She sighed. She'd rather be making love.
"Later," he muttered, his gaze slowly going around the club.
Damali opened her mouth and closed it. Okay, he was definitely getting stronger, because she hadn't even mind locked with him that time.
"Chivas, just a hint of color," he told the bartender, "top shelf. How old is it?"
"Two days," the bartender said, smiling, bringing him a bottle to inspect. "Got same day if you want it?"
Carlos stared at him. "I asked you for top shelf, didn't I?"
"My bad," the bartender said, holding up his hand, and removing the offending bottle. "For the lady?"
"Dom—no color," Carlos said, not even looking at her.
Damali's gaze shot between Carlos and the bartender. Carlos's gaze was constantly sweeping the terrain, but the bartender was totally focused on Carlos.
"No color? In here?" the bartender said after a moment, and then shook his head. "You a bold mo'fucker." He pulled down a short rocks glass and a black bottle from the top shelf, along with a bottle of Chivas Regal, and blended the blood and liquor before Carlos. He then got a clear champagne glass and poured Dom Perignon for Damali, hesitating as he gave it to her. "Remember, I'm just the bartender… I just work here, if anything jumps off."
Carlos swirled the drink around in his glass, threw the murky concoction into the back of his throat, swallowed fast, and then winced as he set down the empty glass hard. He handed the bartender a C-note. "You tell your boss that the old owner is here, and that he's a bold motherfucker, too."
Carlos stared at the paralyzed vampire. His dark brown eyes glittered with fear and what little color was in his thin face drained away. "Now would be a good time for you to hit that panic button by the register," Carlos said in a low, even tone. "You don't want to make me go up to my old office to get him."
She knew this was a bad idea… She should have listened to Marlene! Now she was in Hell's kitchen, surrounded by vamps, and a mortal combat was about to jump off. Oh my G—
Not in here!
"My bad," she whispered. She could see the vamps in the midsection of the dance floor area discreetly realign themselves. Females gravitated ever so su
btly to certain males. Certain males grouped together, bulking slightly—not too much, but like they were on standby. Humans quickly exited, on the excuse of needing a smoke, whatever, but even human helpers knew that their markers were no protection when two dominant males squared off.
Carlos hadn't even moved. He was sipping a second drink, appearing casual with his back to the staircase that led to the owner's office. Part of her was indignant; she could understand how he felt. They'd changed the paint to a sick purple. Had switched out his once beautiful black marble and mahogany bar, and put some crazy Lucite in there. The music was all right, but the lights were giving her a headache. The place had been classy before. Now it was so… tacky, it didn't make sense. She looked at Carlos as his biceps flexed.
Damali could feel his rage building as he was forced to wait for the new owner to grace him with his presence.
Suddenly Carlos stood up, looked at her, and nodded. "You're right, baby. It is tacky."
She opened her eyes wide. "Don't do it," she whispered. "Not—"
Damali closed her eyes and shook her head, knowing it was already done. When she opened them again, the old decor was in place, Carlos was smiling, six inches of fang showing, his brows knitted as he studied his old establishment.
"Much better."
The twenty vamps in the room immediately went into battle stances, but parted as a tall, very angry second-level vampire stormed down the stairs from the offices. She watched, numb, as a lanky, built brother with locks came barreling down the stairs, eyes solid red.
"Out of order!" he said, pointing at Carlos.
"No, motherfucker—you are way out of order." Carlos hadn't raised his voice, but the crowd stepped back.
She watched Carlos stand, turn slowly, and take off his shades. He was eye-to-eye with the male who faced him. The brother backed up, his long locks swinging. The competitor brandished gold-capped fangs with diamonds in them, and his eyes glowed the same color red as his silk shirt. His territory crest medallion moved with his cinder block chest as he took in and released air hard. When he recognized Carlos, he snarled.
"They said you were dead."
"You know in our world, hearsay is dangerous, and doesn't hold up in council."
She watched a half smile cross Carlos's face. She tensed when she picked up motion in her peripheral vision. Five females had slowly gathered behind the new club owner, but when Carlos had spoken, they took a deep breath and hung back, their positions now in the middle of the two potential combatants without a clear choice being displayed. Deep.
"I'ma give you a choice," Carlos said, his voice low and lethal. "Since you didn't know I was around, as you claim, you can get your shit and your bitches out of my club—now, or die." Carlos walked to the center of the dance floor, putting space between him and Damali. "What will it be? And tell me my lair in Beverly Hills hasn't been opened. If you breached my lair, motherfucker, there will be no saving your ass. I'll pull a bone out of it."
She couldn't believe what she was watching. The five females walked over to Carlos and stood behind him as the other male bulked but he still didn't make a move.
"Like I said, man. I didn't know," the club owner said.
"Knowledge is power," Carlos said in a deep rumble that made the females come nearer to him, tilt their heads, close their eyes, and inhale his scent.
"Oh, Carlos… We had been looking for you, baby. Where you been?" one tall, voluptuous, female said, her island lilt pouring over him.
"Later," Carlos said. "Back up off me while I'm handling my business."
Later? Damali bristled as she watched the vamp flash her man a hint of fang, her breasts practically falling out of her red halter dress as she smiled and backed away. Damn hoochie had her double-D tits up in his face, and the Latina chick with the black patent leather bondage gear was gonna make her slap her if she tossed that long, silky pony-tail seductively one more time. Yeah, that blonde had betta recognize, too.
"How'd you feed?" the new club owner asked.
"That's my business," Carlos said, his tone icy. He gave the other vampire a stare that practically turned him to stone. "We understand each other?"
"You fed from her?" The blond female asked, her glare narrowing on Damali.
"Respect," Carlos said calmly, nodding toward Damali. "Don't come into my lair, unless I call you. She brought me back. Chill."
What? Now she was going to air this whole joint out. What did Unless I call you mean? Had he lost his mind? And hadn't he told those females to back off?
She watched them move away from Carlos, confusion crossing their faces. Then they glared at her. The venom in their glares felt like daggers piercing her body. That was cool, too. She would gladly handle them.
But, then, just as the storm was about to pass, the club owner breathed in deeply and looked at her. Damn it, her rage had spiked the air, and now he was looking at her with a little too much interest.
"You was gone a long time, Rivera. Heard they fucked you up bad in the tunnels. Month or so of rehab… word is, you ain't eating right. None of your lairs are sealed. Ain't answering no calls. Makes people wonder if you mighta gone soft. Dragging a human female around, and shit. Council mighta marked you, but anything goes topside. Accidents can happen." Then he looked at Damali. "He taking care of you, baby? If—"
"Yeah, he takes care of me," Damali said through her teeth. "Back off."
"Accidents do happen in the strangest places… like clubs. Happens every night," Carlos said evenly. "Believing your own hype is a dangerous thing. So is pushing up on my woman right in my face."
"Hey…" The new owner opened his arms and smiled. "If a man's got the skills to pull her, just like a man's got the skills to move up and take this club… what can I say?"
Damali braced herself for the lunge, but was shocked when Carlos just smiled.
"Wanna test your skills the old-fashioned way? Brute strength, I got you. I'm talking about who can finesse the best—since you're talking shit about my woman. Let's take it to the master level, since you wanna be one so bad."
The second-level male glanced around the room as the females again hovered between the two would-be combatants.
"I'm not gonna mess up my club," Carlos said casually. "And I'm not really trying to dust any more vamps in my territory—lost too many in the civil war. But if you think you can take me on a skills challenge, then let's go. Winner takes all."
The second-generation vamp laughed. "Your punk ass is so soft, you ain't even trying to fight. Pitiful."
Again the females shifted. The second-level vamp was focused on Damali, but kept Carlos in his line of vision.
However, the room went still when Carlos closed his eyes, and opened them. Pure red-glowing fury was in them when he did so. Eight inches of battle-fangs had dropped, his shoulders had bulked by three inches. He opened his hand and shock spread across the vamp's face as he started to move across the floor toward Carlos, obviously against his will.
"There is no fight, because it isn't worth it. Ripping out your punk heart will just mess up my suit and put me in a very bad mood, and I'm with my lady tonight." He body slammed him against the bar, hurling him across the room to collide with it, and looked down at where he'd fallen on the floor.
"Get up. Find your car keys. We do this the old-fashioned way."
Carlos ordered. He glanced around the bar. "If he lives to tell about it, he can keep this club. If I smoke him, all my lairs get resealed, and you let the regions know I'm back and I ain't bullshitting. Don't make me go lair to lair, kicking in doors to make it known—I ain't got that kinda time, but I will if I have to."
Visibly shaken, the challenger stood up. But it was clear that the scent of adrenaline-spiked Neteru was making him foolish and cocky.
"Aw'ight, man. A skills test. You ain't been a master that long. Before Nuit, an old master had this region, and even Nuit had years on you—"
"And Nuit got his ass neutered by this hand," Carlos said, his
glare narrowing as he flexed his fist. "Bet you heard that, too."
The females smiled and nodded. "We did," one of them breathed.
"What's the challenge?" the Caribbean chick said, boldly going to Carlos and leaning against him.
"My Chevy against your Hummer. Twenty miles. Dematerializing, materializing grand prix—open highway, then through streets. No human body count, no property or collateral damage. Smooth as silk, dead as night, no witnesses. Winner takes all." Carlos spoke directly to the challenger and extricated himself from the female's embrace.
"That's not fair," the second-level vamp said, trying to save face and back out. "Your car is lighter, has less weight, and—"
"What, punk? You scared?" Carlos chuckled and studied his nails. "Tell you what. I'll weigh my car down with a human female. Complicated cargo, especially when it gets hyped, tense, screaming, adrenaline-kicking, Neteru in full effect, distracting as shit. You don't have to take a human-helper with you, to keep it fair. Cool? Takes a lot of skill to jettison vamp bodies and illusion-matter at high speeds, switch frequencies, and bring human cellular structure through solid matter and then come out on the other side without losing velocity. Need skills like that to hit V-point, too—ask the ladies. That's why I'm a master, and you're not. So, either your out-of-order ass goes for the ride, or I can just smoke you here. I'm giving you a chance to do what you should have done when I walked through that door." Carlos smiled. "Run."
Damali couldn't catch her breath. Carlos was out of his mind. She was not getting in that car! She glanced around quickly as the five females draped themselves on him. She watched in horror as the other males in the room gave him a nod of respect, reduced bulk, and pounded fists. She watched the second-level vampire shakily produce his car keys in his hands and nod without a word. She watched her man nod at her. Was he mad?
Carlos stared at her. Damali stared at him.
Two females were at his side, nuzzling his neck.
"Carlos, baby, if you pull this off, call me, hear? Tonight."
He stroked the bondage-gear-wearing babe's hair, and gently pushed her away.