April grins from ear to ear and holds out her hand for me to take. “Come on. Let’s get Cinderella ready for her night of debauchery.”
I can fake it. I can fake being a living human being for one night. I can. I will. But sadly, wherever I go, I take hell with me.
Chapter Two
Lotus
Not even two rum and cokes can make watching male strippers interesting. I’m a butt girl but after watching the fifth butt twerking in a G-string inches from my face, I don’t ever want to see another ass for a while. And they are nice. Round. Muscular. But nowhere near as gorgeous as Will’s. Our one night together I finally got to do what I’d been fantasizing of since I’d met him: nibble and kiss down that fleshy mound as he chuckled and moaned. I wonder if that bitch Patsy did the same to him. If he trailed kisses from behind her ear to her toes as he did me. When I begin going down this train of thought I order a third drink to derail it. I promised April I’d at least attempt to have a decent time. This is Kenny’s bachelor party. He’s committing to the love of this life. He doesn’t deserve Debbie Downer ruining the fiesta. So I drink and somehow maintain a smile on my face as the others from April’s salon whoop it up and stick singles in G-strings. Yeah, I would so rather be fighting Nazi/zombie/aliens at home.
At least I resemble a fully functional adult person tonight. April really knows her stuff. The natural wave in my hair shows, the gold specks in my eyes glow, and despite the extra ten pounds I’ve packed on, in my black satin pants and long-sleeved maroon lace top, I have an hourglass vavoom happening. Too bad ninety-nine percent of the men at Cougar’s are gay. Not that I’d go home with any of the even if I could. Okay, maybe the one dressed as Tarzan. I’ve only been with three men, and it wasn’t until Will I figured out what the fuss was about. Now I miss sex. God I miss sex. My vibrator’s just about worn out, not to mention all the furniture I’ve busted and had to replace when I lose control and orgasm. I think Nana’s bought my “I’m clumsy when I drink” excuse. Another wonderful side effect of my psychokinesis. If I’m not careful I can literally kill my partner when I come. That puts a big ass crimp in dating and sex. Hell, I can’t even spend the night with a guy on the off chance I levitate something in my sleep. But Will didn’t care. He truly knew me, all my faults and quirks, and he loved me anyway, as I did him. Who will want me now? Scarred, freakish, depressed, overweight. Godddamn it, there I go again. As if fucking some random guy will exorcise Will from my very atoms. It might be nice to try though. Why the hell not? I—
“Bea?” Yo, one of April’s co-workers, shouts from across the table.
I snap out of my head. I realize everyone’s rising from our table. “What?”
“We’re going!” Yo shouts over the music.
Thank God. I collect my purse and follow the four others past the other happy bachelorettes whooping it up on their last nights of freedom. I wonder if I would have had a bachelorette party. I wonder if I’d be Mrs. Will Price right now. Probably. I might have even been pregnant already. We both wanted children so badly. I broke down in tears for an hour when I got my period a week after Will’s death. God couldn’t even give me that.
More than once tonight, when Kenny began talking about his honeymoon to Cancun or the ceremony, I had the strongest urge to throw my drink in his face or flip the table. I contained myself though. I just smiling and nodding while chugging my rum. I am happy for him, I truly am, I’m just sadder for me at the moment.
We step out of the club into the perfect June night. Not too hot, not too cold with a breeze from the Pacific wafting down the streets of the historic Gaslamp District. Small boutiques and restaurants line the sidewalks as gas lamps flicker above instead of boring electric street lamps. Young couples and groups like ours stroll hand-in-hand laughing as they pass us. April latches her arm in mine too.
“So, where to next?” Marina asks.
“Home?” I suggest.
“Hell no! It’s only ten-thirty!” Kenny says. “Let’s hit a club! I wanna dance! Silhouette’s just around the corner.” We turn the corner, running smack dab into the line to get inside. “Fuck!”
“It’s Saturday night. They’re all gonna be like this,” April points out.
“But I wanna dance!” Kenny says, pouting. “Bea wants to dance too. Don’t ya, Bea? You love dancing.”
I do love dancing. And with all the rum and cokes I’m too wired and drunk to fall asleep for hours yet. I need to work off the chemically induced energy. A truly terrible, terrible idea only alcohol could produce creeps into my mind. No, that is a very, very bad—
“I can get us into Gaslamp,” I find myself saying. The others look at me, eyebrows raised in surprise. “What? I know the owner.”
April’s grip on my arm slackens. “I don’t think that’s a—”
“Awesome!” Kenny says. “Gaslamp ho! I love that place! So sophisticated.”
Our bachelor takes off like a marching band conductor minus the baton. Someone’s excited. When I try to follow, April yanks me back. “Are you nuts? What if he’s there?”
“He probably won’t be. He’s a busy guy.”
“But what if he is?” she hisses. “The asshole threatened to kill you.”
“He didn’t mean it,” I say, literally waving it off. “We’re so past it.”
“Bea—”
“You’re the one who wanted me to get out and do something. And I wanna dance!” I start walking. “Besides, he so won’t even be there!”
Though part of me, the drunk part most likely, really hopes he is. About a day after I returned to San Diego, a giant bouquet of lilies arrived on Nana’s doorstep with a card that simply read, “If there is anything I can do, anything at all, do not hesitate to ask. –C.” I’m not hesitating tonight.
Gaslamp is four blocks away and one of those blocks has a line stretching to the very end. We garner more than a few questioning or envious stares as we walk past the have nots, but at least they weren’t the downright glare the hulking doorman gives us the moment he sets eyes on little old me. You threaten to shoot a vampire once, and he never lets it go. I’ve moved on.
I plaster on my sweetest smile as I approach. “Howdy.”
“May I help you?”
“We’d like to come in.”
“Is he expecting you?”
“Isn’t he always? And do you really want to keep me waiting out here? I doubt he’ll like that.”
The sides of his mouth twitch, but he does unclip the velvet rope. “Go right in, Agent Alexander and enjoy your night.”
“Thank you very much. We will. Wonderful seeing you again.” With a wink, I step into the club.
Gaslamp is one of the classier clubs I’ve been to, and in my tenure as a F.R.E.A.K. agent I found myself in a fair share. Gaslamp is designed to resemble a hunting lodge or English gentleman’s social club with brown leather booths with brass buttons, wooden tables and padded matching chairs, and a beautiful chandelier with flickering gas lamp flames dancing in time to the patrons below. The bouncer must have radioed in the moment I turned my back because we barely make it out of the foyer to the main dance hall when a familiar African American man with an earwig and clipboard blocks our path.
“Agent Alexander, how lovely to see you again,” he says with a British accent. “Right this way to our VIP area.”
“Why thank you!” At least he’s forgiven me.
The vamp leads us toward the staircase. “Why do they keep calling you Agent Alexander?” Yo asks me.
“Inside joke. Take too long to explain,” I reply without missing a beat. I have gotten so good at lying I impress even myself.
The VIP section is a large booth just off the staircase in the corner of the second story overlooking the dance floor. The British minion parts the velvet rope. “All your drinks tonight are, of course, on the house, and Malia will be your private server. If you desire anything else, please let Malia or another member of staff know, and we will accommodate you immediately.”
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“Thank you.” The vampire nods before leaving. I reapply my lipstick after I sit. Have to look my best.
“I could get used to this,” Kenny says. “What’d you do? Save the manager’s basket of kittens from drowning or something?”
“Or something,” I say. “He’s a friend.”
“Must be a damn good friend,” Yo says.
“You consider him a friend?” April asks, eyebrow raised.
“We’ve got free drinks all night. Tonight he’s my best friend.”
April rolls her eyes with that one.
Our waitress promptly comes for our orders. I quickly gulp down half my fourth rum and coke of the night before it’s dancing time. Kenny, Yo, and I slink down to the dance floor and begin bumping and grinding with the rest of the wild throng. I can actually allow myself to get lost in the beat, in the energy of the crowd tonight. The majority of clubs I found myself in, I was there stalking prey. Places like these where alcohol and drugs flow like water, lowering everyone’s inhibitions and common sense are the best hunting grounds for almost every monster out there. I spot a few such creatures of the night nearby, working on their nightly victim. I’d estimate about twenty percent here are vampires. As long as their prey is over eighteen, isn’t forced to have sex, and lives to see the sun, the F.R.E.A.K.S. have a live and let undead policy. Yet I’ve lost count of how many vamps I’ve had to put down for breaking the rules. Two dozen? More? And I still don’t feel a kernel of remorse, at least not for that.
I—
During the second song, a techno mix of Missy Elliott’s “Get Your Freak On,” an arm suddenly glides around my torso before pulling me back against his body, all but pinning me against him. Even with all the bodies writhing against me from all corners this act shocks me. I spin around, ready to shove the creep away, but the mischievous grin on his familiar, fine face quells the rage. Damn, I forgot how hot he is. Not gorgeous like Oliver, maybe two men on the planet are, but with the smiling, crinkling violet eyes, wiry yet muscular body currently looking damn fine in black jeans and gray V-neck sweater with the sleeves pushed up, way auburn hair, and air of mischief the Irish just have, he is one sexy ass vampire.
“About time you showed up!” I shout over the music.
“I was about to say the same thing,” he shouts back. Frak me, that accent. Melt. I’m shocked I’m not sliding off my panties right this instant.
I don’t put up a shred of resistance as Connor wraps his arm around my waist again or as I collide with his body. I drape my arms over his shoulders as he slips his leg between mine so I’m all but sitting on it. Never taking our eyes from each other’s, our grins growing with each passing second, we swing our hips in time to the chaotic music. The rest of the club fades away, all that remains are those smiling eyes and the heat growing between my legs. Okay, this is why I wanted to come here tonight.
I wanted him.
Lord Connor McInnis, ruler of every vampire from Tijuana to Santa Ana, and my next giant mistake. We met over five months ago when he tried to blackmail me into becoming his concubine. An asshole move to be sure, but it was mostly my telekinesis he was after. Mostly. He made up for his bad behavior by helping me take down a troll cult led by my ex Steven. The man I’m currently dry humping offered me money, power, privilege, wild hot sex, and companionship until the end of my days, and I said no. For true love. Yeah, look where that got me. I don’t think I should ever make that mistake again.
The song ends and Connor sadly releases me, all but my hand. He guides me toward a hidden mirror enclosed booth in the corner. The VVIP section. We can see everyone, but they can’t see us. How voyeuristic. There’s already a drink, I assume rum and coke, waiting for me on the table. The moment the door shuts, the music becomes nothing but muffled beats. For whatever reason, I guess without the noise overwhelming my already addled senses, when he shuts the door, I tense. Okay, maybe all sense hasn’t been washed away by alcohol. Hopefully this will do the job. I grab the drink and take a gulping sip as I slide into the booth. He does the same, sitting right beside me so our thighs touch and even drapes his arm over the back of my seat. Liquid courage don’t fail me now. “So,” he says with that mischievous smile affixed. I swear I grow wet between my thighs every time he crinkles those eyes.
“So,” I reply before taking another swig. Think, Bea. Think. “Uh, I meant to call you and thank you for the flowers. They were beautiful.”
“I never saw much point in sending something that would soon wither and die to console another who is dealing with a loved one withering and dying.”
“Then why did you send them?”
“It is what one does. Though I want it noted I did take my life into my own hands with the gesture. Your Oliver phoned me the day you returned to our fair city. I believe his exact words were, ‘If you go near her, if you bother her in any way, I will burn all your properties to the ground before I flay you alive.’”
“He-he did that?”
“You seem surprised.”
“We didn’t exactly part on the best of terms.”
Connor’s violet eyes narrow. “From what I understand you saved his life at great personal cost. I am surprised he is not by your side moving heaven and earth simply to bring a smile to your gorgeous face.”
“Actually, he hasn’t called once,” I say, falling back against the seat.
“Perhaps he was doing as I was. Giving you time and space to grieve until you emerged from your mourning period. I will say I am honored you came to me first.” His arm moves onto my shoulders. “You look well.”
“Only well?” I ask with a pout. “I was going for beautiful. Enchanting. Ravishing.”
“Your beauty is unparalleled. You are Helen of Troy for the modern age, Agent Alexander.”
I sip my drink. “It’s just plain old Beatrice now, Danny Boy. I think.”
He stares at me, head slightly tilted to the side. “You are no longer with the F.R.E.A.K.S? I assumed you were on medical leave.”
“Suspended without pay until…I guess today.” I chug the rest of my booze. I am going to regret that one tomorrow morning. Hopefully it won’t be the only thing I regret come morning. “How much do you know about what happened?”
“Only rumors. Oliver did not delve into the details between his threats. I know you sustained grievous injuries, and that Agent Price perished in the line of duty. The obituary claimed he died in a car accident.”
I scoff. “Yeah. I guess…he kind of did.” At least the Will Price I knew and loved did. God, I need another drink.
“We do not have to talk about—”
Before I lose my nerve, or regain my sense, I grab the back of his neck and draw his lips to mine into a fierce kiss. The alcohol’s making everything a little numb and unreal, but I forgot how much I enjoy kissing. The raw pleasure from tasting another. From the mere touch of lips conjoining. Connor doesn’t hesitate a millisecond. His lips match mine caress for caress. I pull away a few seconds later to breathe. “I don’t wanna talk. I wanna dance.”
Those ridiculously pretty eyes of his crinkle as he smiles. Definitely wet now. “Your command is my wish.”
His arm never leaves my waist, his hungry eyes never leave the rest of me as we return to the dance floor and allow the music work its magic. There’s no guilt, no future, nothing but the beat, my body against his, and those fangs and lips grazing over my flesh every chance he gets. Please don’t let the music ever stop. I want to become a lotus eater and stay on this island forever. Let me stay here. I want to die on this dance floor with his hands roving my body.
Not to be.
Around our sixth dance, I notice someone fighting through the crowd toward me. It isn’t until she’s right in front of me I realize it’s April, sporting a scowl for my dance partner before turning her glare to me. Even without that hostile expression I can sense her nerves and undercurrent of anger. “It’s time to go!” she shouts over the music.
“I don’t want to go!” I
lean back against Connor. “I’m having fun!”
“It’s time to go now, Bea,” she says sternly. “We’re all leaving!”
“I can see she gets home safely,” Connor says, I’m sure with a smile.
She flashes him another sneer before taking my hand. “Come on.”
I rip my hand from hers. “I’m not leaving yet.”
“Bea, you’re—”
“Having fun! Like you wanted me to!”
“Drunk,” she finishes. “You’re drunk.”
“I’m not that drunk,” I say. “I know exactly what I’m doing, okay? Really. And I can take care of myself.”
“Bea, this is—”
“Ma’am,” Connor says. April peers up at him and her eyes suddenly go vacant. “Go home to your family and do not worry about your friend tonight. No harm will come to her. Go. Now.”
April nods and without another word turns her back on us, walking away. I should chastise Connor for putting the whammy on my best friend, but I’m just glad she’s gone. She’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. There goes the guilt again but I shut it down. I’ll be guilty tomorrow. I can give myself that at least.
I wrap my arm around Connor, picking up where we left off, hips gyrating to the music, but the interruption has drained the fun. I’m also now aware I’m dripping with sweat and my legs are aching since I haven’t exercised in months. Fucking April. “I think I need a drink!” I shout.
Connor nods, slips his hand around my waist again, and leads me toward the private room again. I can walk straight. See? Not drunk. But instead of entering the mirrored enclave, we move past it to another dim hall and another door with a keypad at the very end. “Close your eyes,” Connor requests. I do. He presses in the code, and I’m yanked forward. I open my eyes to find myself in yet another hallway moving toward another door. It better have a bed inside. Or…fuck I can’t wait. Just as we reach the first door on the left, I shove Connor against the wall and give him a steamy, panty dropping kiss. He spins me around, this time pinning me to the wall as we devour one another. Someone likes to be in charge. I pull away to breathe, and he trails kisses down my throat as his hands reach under the back of my shirt to dig his nails into my flesh. But the moment I sense fangs against my jugular, I push him away with a laugh. “Nice try. I’m not that drunk, Danny Boy. For that privilege, you have to buy me dinner first.”
The Sin Eater (A F.R.E.A.K.S. Squad Investigation Book 5) Page 2