Taken by Moonlight

by Violette Dubrinsky

  Her friend winked and Vivienne grinned.

  Drew was right. She wasn’t big on dressing up, or making herself up for that matter. One, it took too much time and effort, and two, her job as a legal assistant didn’t exactly require she be a fashionista. Granted, she had to make her appearance decent, but slacks and a dress top were all that was needed on a good day. It wasn’t as if she were one of the attorneys and after completing a year as Arnold Hastings’ slave, for lack of more appropriate word, she highly doubted that she ever would be. If not for the fact that she’d told him this Saturday was her birthday months ago, she doubted she would have had the entire day off. Corporate attorneys were vicious and Arnold was among the very best.

  “You’re probably—”

  A low whistle sounded and both Vivienne and Drew turned to the source of the sound. Max leaned against the door frame, his eyes intently taking in the vision in red before him. Vivienne had met Maximilian Carter, better known as Max to all those who wanted to keep on his good side, on their college track team. His all-American-boy looks and easy charm had made him a quick favorite among the ladies but it was his humorous outlook on life that had really attracted Vivienne to him. As any heterosexual male and female would do, they’d tried dating but after a week, had found they were much better off as friends.

  “Move over Beyoncé and the entire House of Dereon. Make way for Vivienne of the House of Bordeaux.” Because she couldn’t help it, Vivienne laughed. Max wasn’t finished, however. His eyes traveled the entire length of her body before he spoke again. “You are one sexy lady, Vivienne Bordeaux.”

  She might have blushed, especially at his low and suggestive tone, but this was Max. Instead, she grinned and winked saucily at him.

  “You’re not so shabby yourself. The women won’t be able to leave you alone.” For all the humor she’d interjected into her voice as she said it, they all knew it was true. Max was what one would call a metro-sexual, although not to his face if one wanted to keep one’s teeth. His hair was dark blond, highlighted with streaks of platinum, though he swore they were natural, and cut in a shaggy but even way that seemed to send out a call to all women standing within feet of him. Vivienne had been to parties with Max where she and Drew had simply sat in open-mouthed shock as female after female, give or take a male somewhere in there, solicited him in blatant invitations for rigorous after-hours activities.

  “Seriously, Viv, are you trying to get me thrown out of the club for assaulting the first idiot who touches you?” he continued playfully, his smile widening as his hazel eyes left Vivienne and moved to where Drew sat at the edge of the bed. Her smooth mocha legs were crossed, her feet bare, and she stared at Max with a raised brow and a smirk that was in no way friendly.

  As his eyes settled on her, she snorted, which caused Max to lift a challenging brow. “Is there something you wanted to add, Drew?”

  The woman in question stood, pulling down the edges of the oversized and old blue T-shirt. Drew had yet to change for the trio’s evening out, as she’d spent the past hours transforming Vivienne. She approached Max with what appeared to be a smile on her face. Vivienne shook her head at their antics. Although she considered them both her close friends, she sometimes doubted they thought the same of each other.

  Drew stopped directly before Max and replied, “I was merely going to say that any brawls of yours would more than likely be because of your inability to hold your alcohol and over your latest faux blonde bimbo. You’re blocking my exit.”

  Max frowned before he shrugged and stepped away from the door.

  “I was beginning to wonder if you were going to wear that. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had—just embarrassed for Vivienne.” It was said carelessly, like an afterthought, as he moved closer to Vivienne. Drew tossed a glare back over her shoulder but held her tongue as she left the room.

  “Hey, don’t look at me like that. She started it,” Max immediately said, catching Vivienne’s raised eyebrows. He moved to stand behind her and looked at their reflections in the mirror. They cut a stark contrast but still fit. She was brown, her complexion easily described as golden-honey; he was pale, a result of the faded summer tan he still mourned. She, with her straightened black hair and vulnerable expression, and he, blond with the promise of sin in his eyes.

  “You really need to stop taunting her like that, Max.”

  “She doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, I think she likes it.”

  “You mean like you like it?”

  His lips parted in a sinister smile and she shook her head. Vivienne once wondered if their animosity toward each other was driven by a sort of attraction, but after years of watching them go after each other with verbal battleaxes, she’d decided that it was just plain, mutual dislike. If not for her, they probably would have had nothing to do with each other.

  Max suddenly leaned his chin against her shoulder and said, “Oh come on, Viv. Admit it. You enjoy seeing us spar. It’s basically free entertainment for you, isn’t it?” He winked and stepped away from her. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Drew.” At the door, he looked at the watch on his wrist and then past her with a devilish grin. She didn’t have to wait long to find out what that meant.

  A few seconds passed before she heard a loud pounding and then Max’s voice rang out, “What’s taking you so long in there, Drew? It’s not even your birthday and you’re making us late! Don’t make me come in there—”

  That was followed by a round of outraged shrieks as she guessed Max either pushed open Drew’s bedroom door or pretended to do so.

  She stifled her laughter as she moved away from the mirror and began searching for her clutch purse. Max was right. Soap operas be damned. Who needed them anyway when she had Max and Drew?

  ***

  “Viv, your sister’s crazy. You should have known better than to go camping with Cassie,” Max said with a shrug of his shoulders, as if that information were noted fact.

  When she’d arrived back at the apartment that morning, she’d briefly informed them on her night with Cassie before crawling into bed and passing out. As the ride to the club was going to take close to thirty minutes in the bumper-to-bumper city traffic, she’d decided to inform them of the details. She’d told them of being chased by a wolf, and of running into strangers in the forest, and the blindfold, and the teenager sniffing her. They’d both found the blindfold and the teenager sniffing her extremely weird, but Max was the only one who’d commented directly on Cassie.

  Vivienne was about to defend her sister, although she knew that Max meant no harm, when Drew spoke up.

  “Just because a woman is smart enough not to fall for your jaded charms does not mean she’s insane.”

  Vivienne’s laughter rang out as she turned to look at Max. She couldn’t make out his expression in the darkness of the cab but knew he was probably scowling. Max had never directly made a pass at her sister but he’d indicated a few times in college that he would. In fact, junior year he’d joked to Cassie about taking her out. Sadly, Cassie was on her “love the earth, love the world” road and had told him she wasn’t interested in “boys who didn’t know that leaving on the lights was slowly leading to the destruction of the environment.” Everyone else found it funny; Max had not.

  “No, I guess not. Just because Dan Fuller never noticed you didn’t make him insane either but I do remember you saying—”

  Vivienne winced when Max mentioned Dan Fuller, who’d been Drew’s crush almost straight through college. If Drew had ever had a dream guy, he’d looked, walked, talked, and acted like Dan. She’d never actually admitted it, but from the way she spoke of him before he’d turned into a jerk, anyone could tell that she’d seen him as more than a friend.

  “Oh, be quiet, idiot,” Drew muttered. Vivienne contemplated interjecting before deciding against it. The last time she’d tried to break up one of the fights, they’d dragged her name into it and she’d had to listen as all the wrong things they’d ever done to her were aired in t
he open. Never again.

  “I’m not the idiot. Dan was.”

  “I am not getting into this with you right now. You are so immature,” Drew continued, and Vivienne closed her eyes and blew out a deep breath.

  “I don’t know which guys you’ve been hanging around lately but I am in no way immature. I’m willing to prove it to you, if you like.” The last part was said in the most suggestive tone she’d ever heard Max use.

  Drew fell silent and Vivienne was just about to change the topic to something tamer, like where they were heading. Were they still in the city? If so, where were the cars, and the lights? Where was this place anyway?

  “Who falls for these ridiculous lines of yours?” Drew suddenly burst out, the rising anger evident in her friend’s voice.

  “Women. I tend to stay away from immature little girls.”

  Drew snorted. “Please, immature little girls are the only ones attracted to those stupid lines.”

  “And you know this because…you are said immature little girl?”

  “Shut it, Maximilian.”

  Vivienne could only shake her head, sigh and wait. Max hated when people said his full name, well…because it was one hell of a name. When she’d first heard it, she’d immediately thought of Gladiator, and although she’d tried to keep in her laughter, she’d ended up laughing in his face. Luckily, they’d been friends for years before he told her his full name and he couldn’t just break it off over her reaction to his name.

  “Make me, Drew the Prude.”

  Drew didn’t reply for a few moments and Vivienne popped an eyelid open. Had Max succeeded in really pissing her off by using that silly moniker he’d given her in college?

  Drew had leaned forward and so had Max. They were now facing each other and she could make out their silhouettes and some of their expressions whenever they passed a streetlight or another car.

  “Just because I don’t screw everything that moves does not make me a prude, Maximilian.”

  It was said in a soft, hiss-filled voice. For a moment, Vivienne wondered if they remembered that she was there. She was preparing to seriously interrupt with a non-related question when Max replied, soft yet forceful. “No, you’re a prude because you refuse to do anything out of that stuck-up, prim and proper comfort-zone of yours. Drew. The. Prude. Suits you well.”

  “Sooo…where are we going, Max? I mean, this guy has been driving for a long time,” Vivienne said loudly, leaning forward and forcing both of them back into their respective corners.

  Max didn’t answer for long moments. “It’s this place called Fangs. It’s on the outskirts of the city. That’s why it’s so far.”

  “We’re going to a place called Fangs?” Drew asked incredulously. “For Vivienne’s birthday, you’re taking her to some Goth-club? I mean, at least, I took us out to dinner at the—”

  “Four Seasons. I was there, remember? Didn’t want to tell you but you were robbed. Food was bland at best, overcooked, or undercooked. You could have probably made her better food and that’s saying something.” He turned to address Vivienne once more. “It’s pretty exclusive, Viv, and definitely a step up from smoky bars, and food for people with no taste buds. My boss is on the VIP list of the place so she lent me her card—”

  “Spare us the details on what you did to get it.”

  Vivienne glared at Drew, but she’d turned to look out of the window. Max didn’t take the bait and continued on.

  “And it’s rumored to have the best drinks and music in the city.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m sure we’ll have fun.” Probably partly due to the fact that they entertained her with their constant bickering everywhere they went. Hopefully, they would entertain her by simply being good friends tonight, though from their prelude at the restaurant and now in the cab, she highly doubted it.

  ***

  “Oh my Go—what is she wearing—why are we here? I knew we shouldn’t have listened to him, Viv. Seriously!”

  They’d cleared two rather large and mean looking bouncers who stood outside of the tall building that looked like some sort of abandoned warehouse. After scanning the VIP card Max provided, they’d demanded identification, before glaring at the three of them for a long while. It took at least five minutes for them to actually get in. They’d then walked along a dimly lit corridor and had run into another bouncer, who’d pushed open a door for them. As soon as the door opened, the sound of blasting music and the reds and greens of club lights assaulted them.

  And now, Drew had a death grip on her hand and Vivienne was slowly losing feeling in her fingers. Her eyes were on a raven-haired woman, probably their age or slightly older, wearing a spiked dog collar, a pink and black cut up shirt that revealed a belly ring and a tattoo of a skull on her lower back, a short leather skirt, and long white stiletto boots! Vivienne did a quick scan of the place and noticed that there were cages toward the front, and half naked men and women were dancing in them.

  She turned to Max, who stood at her other side, taking in the place and the people with an unreadable expression on his face. He had been unusually quiet since the encounter with the bouncers.

  “Max, are you okay—?”

  He blinked and nodded, pasting on a smile as he looked at her. “Come on, birthday girl. Let’s get you those drinks—all on me.” He grabbed her other hand and began to move in the direction of the bar.

  As she followed, Vivienne let her gaze roam the place. She saw a few others dressed like the girl with the cut-up shirt, and they were mostly dancing with each other against the walls next to the large speaker systems, but she also noticed people in business attire, and some in very casual clothing. The business suits all sat farther away, behind the bar, in the back corner. They were obviously here to drink and talk, not dance. The casuals were all over—walking around, talking, dancing. A mix of people were gathered tonight. She no longer felt overdressed.

  At the bar, Max ordered a stout and two tall daiquiris. Their bartender, who looked like he was barely twenty-one, raised a brow and asked, “Glass or bottle for the stout?”

  Max’s response was immediate. “Bottle.”

  The man nodded and glanced at both Vivienne and Drew before going about getting the drinks. Vivienne looked to Drew, trying not to mimic her friend’s expression of discomfort with the place. Max had brought them there, and he’d never take them somewhere unsafe.

  “Relax.” Vivienne started before realizing it was Max who crowded her. “Just relax. If Vivienne doesn’t like it, we’ll leave. No one is going to hurt us—just calm down.”

  Although she nodded, Vivienne continued to survey the place. Although sizeable, she’d seen the outside of the building. It was huge, at least four stories. There had to be some other private rooms upstairs, probably for exclusive VIPs or something. She looked to the walls, searching out a door or doors. She found only one and in front of it stood another bouncer. He wasn’t large, like the ones she’d encountered getting into the club, but he was tall with broad shoulders, and muscular. He was dressed in black: black fitted T-shirt with the “Fangs” logo on it, black jeans, and, from his leaning stance and sloping shoulders, he seemed quite bored.

  She was just about to look away when the man suddenly moved, straightening as if shocked, and stepped away from the door. With curious eyes, she watched as the door opened inward, and a tall man walked through. He was followed by two other men, but her eyes were drawn to him. He was now facing the man who’d been guarding the door, obviously conversing with him. His back was to her, and she could not make out his face though she felt an uncanny need to do just that.

  Who is he? Vivienne wondered, as her heart began to race. Her body went on alert, as if live wires were shooting under her skin. Her breathing grew hitched. Anticipating seeing his face, she had an irrational thought that seemed rational at the same time. She knew this man—maybe.

  “Here, Viv. Your drink,” Max was saying and she heard him as if he were far off. Something cold settled
in her hand and she briefly looked down at the pink-colored drink with chipped ice cubes floating around in it, and a small toothpick umbrella off to the side. Her eyes lifted to man again. He was now addressing one of the men who’d followed him through the door.

  “Are you staring at the guy with the red ponytail, too?” Drew’s voice brought Vivienne’s eyes to her friend, who was looking in the direction of the men, a similar drink in her hand.

  She heard a snort, a very male snort, and turned to Max, who glared at both of them. “And that’s my cue to leave. You ladies have fun. I’m going patrolling.”

  “I hope he doesn’t expect us to wait around while he deals with his slut-of-the-night ‘cause we’re not doing it. Tonight is not about Max—it’s about you. So whenever you want to leave, tell me. I’ll call the cab and leave him right here. Viv, are you listening to me?” That was followed by a pregnant pause as Vivienne tried to remember the question. “I wouldn’t listen to me either, if I had to choose between that and the redhead.”

  Vivienne had no idea what Drew was saying but kept waiting for the man to turn in her direction. Resting her drink on the bar, she began to move closer, so she could see him better.

  She was in the middle of the place, he at the back. She knew Drew was next to her as her friend was saying something about her drink. Vivienne contemplated walking past him and turning to see his face when the man stilled. It was a subtle reaction, but she was watching him so closely that she immediately noticed the stiffness of his back and shoulders. Instantly, the men around him shifted, eyes swarming as they looked for…something. The redhead reached behind his back and she had a good idea of what he stored there.

  Are they his bodyguards? she wondered briefly, and all coherent thought stopped there. In one fluid moment, the man swiveled and looked directly at her. Although she’d only seen his face for seconds before fainting, Vivienne would remember him anywhere. Black hair, sharp but handsome features, piercing eyes. His head lowered, and straight black hair fell forward into his face, leaving it for the most part obscured. She could only make out his lips, which were set in a line—neither smile nor scowl.