Bronx waved an arm toward the empty couch. I listened like a good little girl and sat down. A bottle of champagne was set in an iced wine bucket on the nearest end table. He grabbed the bubbly, a couple glasses, and then sat down next to me. The donors stared at us quietly as Bronx poured our drinks. “To us, and of course, your first night out,” he said as he handed me an overfilled glass, fizzy white bubbles trickling down the side of it.
“Thanks.” Our glasses clicked and then I chugged it down.
Bronx gave me a refill. “After we finish our champagne,” he said, looking at me, then shifting his eyes toward the men across the table, “we will feed on these donors. You can choose which one you would like to be your first public donor.” Bronx and both of the donors flashed smiles at me. All three of them seemed eager to get on with it. No reason to keep any of them waiting.
I let my nose decide which donor I wanted. The guy on the right had a clean, soapy-fresh scent. I got up and sat down beside him. He was slightly overweight, brunette, with thick eyebrows and dressed in black slacks and an egg-colored polo. “I want this one,” I said.
In the blink of an eye Bronx was sitting next to the other donor; the four of us barely fit on the same couch. He smiled and then turned toward his donor. He was so quick to eat and never really made small talk with any of them. I, on the other hand, wanted to at least know my donor’s name. “Hi, I’m Abby Tate.” I reached out my hand.
Looking very confused he shook my hand and replied, “I’m, uh, D-Da-David.”
“Don’t be afraid, David. I just wanted to get to know you a little before biting you. It may seem strange to you, but I’m new at this.”
“You’re a, uh, a new vampire?” His eyes lit up and I felt a wave of excitement flow through him.
“Yup. One month old today.”
“Wow, uh, I, uh, never, I never had a new one before.”
Smiling at him I playfully responded, “Well, David, you’re about to have yourself a new one. Is it okay if I go ahead and begin?”
Leaning closer, begging me with his eyes, David replied, “Puh, please go uh, a-ahead.”
“Your wish is my command.” I grabbed his head, tilted it to the side, and bit down into his neck. This donor was quiet but the vibrations in his body spoke volumes. I drank my fill, sealed the wound, and then laid him back onto the couch. In a flash I was on the other couch. I wasn’t alone for long. Bronx was next to me. I didn’t like the way he was looking at me.
“Abigail, enough of the games,” he said. “I need you. Now, more than ever.”
And that’s when I really knew he was using it: persuasion. He was without a doubt trying to use it on me, its sharp claws scraping at the edge of my mind like nails down a chalkboard. My arms started shaking; my mouth was so dry I couldn’t swallow right. Anger rushed up my spine like an army of ants. He’s not getting in! I won’t let him in! It’s my mind! My world was moving—like the room has a pulse, beating, thumping. But then it all stopped. The room got still, my body relaxed. I was still me. Bronx never got inside. I wasn’t sure what to do. No one had ever been able to resist Bronx’s persuasion. I didn’t have any more time to ponder this. I needed to act or Bronx would know his ability was useless on me.
Digging deep inside, I leaned forward and hugged him. He grabbed me by my hair, yanked my head back, and started kissing me—hard, sloppy, and desperate.
I grew nauseous. The act was over.
I tried to push Bronx off me but he wouldn’t budge, his sloppy tongue moving all over my mouth like a drive-thru carwash. My skin crawled with tension, my stomach twisting and turning like an ice-cream maker. He still held the hair on the back of my head with one hand, while the other grabbed the exposed part of my thigh and started moving up. Up beyond the fabric of my dress, and it just kept slowly moving. I tried with all the strength I could muster to push him off, to no avail. With no other options, I screamed, “Stop it, you’re hurting me, stop it, stop it now!”
But he didn’t stop. His fingers reached the outer edge of the boy shorts that I wore under my baby doll dress. I just kept punching him and screaming for him to stop. The donors were out cold, enjoying their euphoria. There was no way they could help me even if I could wake them up.
Bronx was too strong. He could take all three of us. His fingers crept under the elastic edge of my boy shorts. Desperation fell over me in a heavy wave. I punched him in the back of the head, frantically screaming, “Please, Bronx, stop! Please don’t do this!”
In a blur of movement he was on top of me, straddling me, pressing me deeper into the couch, his hands violating me in places they didn’t belong. All that training was for nothing. I couldn’t stop him. My strength failed me. My mind was blank with fear. There was nothing else I could do, except cry.
Then everything happened so fast. The door flew open and I could barely see the dark-skinned security guard that had allowed us back to this room. Bronx froze, grabbed his neck, and started gagging, like he was choking or his throat was caving in. As he held his neck, his body started to float up against the wall. Slowly. Then his head bumped into the ceiling. He remained frozen there, gagging and dry heaving. I looked over at the guard and boy did he look pissed. “You—come here,” he demanded in a firm tone.
Without saying a word, I got up and walked over to him.
“I want you to stand in the hallway, right there.” He pointed his finger to the spot. “Do not move until I get there!”
I still couldn’t speak. I just nodded my head and walked out into the hall. The door slammed shut behind me. That guard had special powers. Overwhelming powers. He’d overpowered Bronx. He’d saved me from being raped. I felt my body shaking as I replayed what just happened in my mind. Was he an Enforcer? But if so, why would he be working here at a nightclub? Watching Bronx overpowered was encouraging—maybe he would help me? I could ask him. Couldn’t hurt to ask, right?
The door opened. The guard came out, face hard and stiff, saying “don’t mess with me” with his eyes. I swallowed hard, my questions sticking in my throat. “Come with me.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me down the hall. He stopped just before the hall ended, a different security guard now blocking the doorway. “That kinda crap ain’t allowed in here! That guy’s gonna have to cool off before he can come out of that room. You’re gonna need to go wait for him in the lounge. I’ll have another security guard show you where to sit.”
I couldn’t speak so I just stared at him and nodded, letting him know I understood. He then handed me off to the other security guard. This one was much smaller, about five ten, slender, his long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. He sported the same black-on-black attire that all other security wore.
He pulled me by the arm across the lounge and sat me down in a blue velvet love seat. No one sat on the other side, thankfully. “Just stay here until your boyfriend cools down, maybe an hour or so.” His voice was sharp and very unfriendly.
My throat loosened. I shrugged my shoulders. “He’s not my boyfriend. Do you realize what you guys just saved me from? I need help. Please. Can you help me?”
“Just shut up!” He swung around and marched away.
What kind of crap happened in those back rooms? Did they really think Bronx and I were just extremely aggressive lovers that beat each other and screamed at the top of their lungs? Were vampires like that when they were sexual? We did have animal instincts and super-human powers, so perhaps that was how some of them acted. I couldn’t stop thinking about what would’ve happened if those security guards didn’t come in. Even though they were both assholes, which was probably part of their job description, I was still grateful to them. I just wished they’d let me leave before Bronx came out. Not that I knew where to go, but anywhere was better than being with him.
Feeling like crap, and wondering if I looked it too, I started combing my fingers through my hair. When I finished, a cocktail waitress made her way over to me. “Can I get you anything, honey?” she asked in a bubbly S
outhern accent. Her chestnut hair bobbed on her shoulders, full of curls. She wore a black mini skirt with a matching black top.
“Yes. I’ll have two kettle club sodas. Make those doubles, please.”
“No problem, darling.” She turned around and started making her way to the bar, stopping to check on a few other customers.
I looked down at my lap, heavy in thought about everything that had happened, and worried sick about when Bronx would be released from the back room. That was when I smelled something that could make everything worse. And before I could do anything, he was sitting right beside me.
“Hi, I’m Tyler Jensen,” he said, hand extended out to me.
My senses were working overtime. This guy, this human guy, smelled amazing. There was one big problem, though. He was definitely not a donor.
8
Escape
I STARED DEEP INTO HIS GREEN EYES, unable to move my mouth. He was very good looking. I mean really, really good looking. He was maybe five eleven, slender, brunette, had a freshly shaven face with soft features, a square jaw, and eyes so brilliant green they looked like jewels. His short brown hair was messy, as if he’d taken his hands and rubbed his hair both ways out of frustration, then locked it in place with some type of gel or hairspray. It was actually a great style for men who wore it well, which he did. He wore slightly faded jeans and an off-white, button-up shirt with dark gray stitching that included a dragon head situated on his left pectoral. The sleeves were rolled just above his elbow, revealing a little muscle definition in his forearm. The top part of his chest peeked above an unfastened button, smooth and slightly sculpted. If Bronx came out here and saw me with this human, it would be huge trouble for us both.
My body cringed at the thought of Bronx. What a freaking monster he was! He was so violent, so inappropriate, and so evil. But what could I do about it? Here I sat, waiting for him to cool down enough to come out here and get me. When would that be? Would the security guards decide sooner rather than later to release him from that back room? He was friendly with every vampire in here, and that perhaps allowed him special privileges. Surely in just a few more minutes he’d be out here.
Panic seized me like sharp claws creeping up my spine, spilling into my neck. This guy couldn’t be sitting here. It was impossible for me to leave since the guards were watching me. I had to do something quick to make him go away. Nothing came to mind. I shook my head. “You can’t sit here.” It didn’t sound like I meant it: weak, not intimidating at all.
His head leaned sideways, probing me with his eyes. His lips curved slightly, half smiling. “And why would that be?” His voice was deep, beautiful. His hand still hovered in front of me, waiting for me to take it.
And why would that be? I didn’t have an answer. Think fast. “Someone else is sitting there.” Lie, lie, lie.
“Well, I can at least sit here until they get back. I’m sure whoever it is won’t mind.” He inched his hand a little closer.
I looked past him, toward the hallway in the back. The security guard was looking at someone’s ID. Bronx wasn’t coming yet. I glanced back at Tyler. I swallowed, hard, slow. “I’m um.” I gazed down at his waiting hand, then back up at his eyes. “I’m Abby Tate.” I grabbed his hand.
Like a bomb exploding, shockwaves blasted through my body. My world was moving, pulsating, changing. I wasn’t in the club anymore. I was somewhere else. I was dreaming, but it was real, and I was in it.
I was with this guy, Tyler, and we were driving fast down a road. It could’ve been a highway. There were bright lights all around us, flashing by as we passed. I was quietly sitting on the passenger’s side. He was driving and talking about something that seemed pretty important. His eyebrows furrowed as he spoke. “It’s the safest place we can go. I know you have a lot of questions and I promise I’ll explain everything.”
“I don’t think you understand how serious this is. Bronx will find me. He’ll track me down. There’s really nowhere I can hide from him. You seem to know more than you should, so please explain to me why you’re helping me. How do I even know I can trust you? What happened when I touched your hand?” I shoved my hair behind my ears, my eyes locked on him.
He glanced over. “Abby, you can trust me.”
Then, with no warning, I was back in the club, sitting next to this mysterious human. “What the hell was that?” My voice was low and steady.
“What do you mean?” His face didn’t match his question. He knew what I meant. I could see it in his eyes.
I didn’t know which I wanted more—him to leave or to explain what the hell that was. “You know what I mean. I saw us going somewhere! Where?” Curiosity always wins. I just hoped I wouldn’t turn out like the cat.
He looked away, staring down at the floor. His pulse sped up: I could see it moving in his neck.
The waitress returned. I signed the receipt (open tab on Bronx’s credit card) and took both drinks from her. She hurried off with a few drinks still on her tray.
“Are both of those yours?” Tyler asked. He was looking at me again.
I nodded slowly.
He reached over and took one of the drinks out of my hand. “What are you doing?” I asked, anger rushing up my spine. I didn’t take my drink back.
His lips wrapped around the tiny black straw. The icy beverage lowered inside the glass. “I love these,” he said, the straw still in his mouth. “The soda water and lime make it such a crisp, refreshing drink. Can you taste them the same way I can?”
Forget the fact that he just rudely took one of my drinks! What the hell did his question mean? My stomach tightened.
He leaned in closer, lips traveling toward my ear. “You know, can vampires taste things the way people can?”
Something cold slithered up my spine. Then it twisted into hot flames. My mouth was so dry I couldn’t swallow—Death Valley on steroids. Goosebumps scattered on my skin, up and down my arms and legs. I knew I needed to get away from this guy but my body was paralyzed by his question, that crazy vision. He knew about vampires, but he wasn’t a donor. He’d called me out on being one. Denying it wouldn’t get me answers, but admitting it could get us both killed. I went for the death wish. “How do you know that? Who are you?”
“I can explain all the details once you leave with me. I can help you, please trust me. We need to leave now.”
“Leave? Are you crazy? They’re watching me. They won’t—” I scoped the club, the bar, the lounge, and the doorway to the hall. Nothing looked out of order. No one was paying attention to this guy and me. Nerves rolled circles in my gut, pushing the lead balloon up. “They won’t let me leave.” I started fidgeting with my hair. Stupid old human nerves, or I was the biggest scaredy-cat vampire ever.
He reached out his hand again, about a foot away from me. I wasn’t about to touch it. “I know you don’t know me, but can you please try to find it inside yourself to trust me? I’m here to help you, I swear.”
“How do you know me?” I demanded. “Why are you so confident that you can help me?” I stopped playing with my hair; my fists were balled, neatly lying on my lap.
He didn’t look scared, intimidated, squat. His hand was still extended toward me, slightly waving. “Please just come with me. I promise all the answers you want.”
I didn’t want to touch that hand. No way. No freaking way. I stared at it as if it were the pink elephant in the room. “Like I said before, I can’t leave. Not with you, not with anyone.”
Tyler smiled. Then he started counting down: “five, four, three, two...” The instant he said “one,” a fight broke out on the other side of the lounge near the bar. Two guys were swinging at each other, screaming obscenities. The bartender and a few security guards were running at human speed toward the brawl. The crowd began forming a half circle around the debacle, some fighting to get a better view by pushing their way through the sea of onlookers. Tyler grabbed my hand and stood up, pulling me up with him. “Come on, that’s our cue! Time to
go, now!”
I had several reasons to follow him out of the bar. One: I needed to know what the hell he was talking about. Two: I needed to know how he knew about me. Three: I needed to know what that vision meant, what it even was. And four: What other choice did I have? Sit there and wait for Bronx to come get me? Yeah, that sounds real smart, doesn’t it?
I was thankful no new visions appeared while we hustled through the club. Tyler kept a tight grip on my hand, pulling me behind him. We dodged other people as they ran past us in the opposite direction wanting to see what was going on. No one seemed to notice us running away from the fight, away from the crowd, and ultimately out the front doors.
He didn’t let go of my hand until we came up to a silver 2008 Audi A4 in the back of the parking lot. There were parked cars all around us, providing some cover for our escape. He opened the door, hurried me into the passenger seat, and then quickly slammed the door. I watched him run around the front hood to the driver’s side door. He got in quick, fired up the engine as fast as humanly possible. We sped out of the parking lot, down a dark side street, and then turned onto a four-lane highway. Déjà vu. This was what I’d seen in that vision.
“Where are we going?” I demanded. My body was turned sideways in the seat, facing Tyler. He wore a seatbelt; I didn’t. I am a badass vampire after all.
“I showed you that vision so you would leave with me.” He glanced at me, then back to the road, hands gripping the steering wheel so tight his arms shook. “We’re going somewhere safe.”
“Safe?” I said it like a question. “There is nowhere safe. Bronx will find me. He’ll track me down. There’s really nowhere I can hide from him.” I turned around, staring out the window. Everything was blank, thoughts crowding my vision.
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