Damage Report

by Mandy M. Roth

  Paisley understood the draw of the brothel. Understood the lure of why Gale would want and ultimately need to be there. Gale also needed sexual energy to survive. Though Gale’s needs ran deeper than Paisley’s. Gale needed actual sex to keep going. Simple sexual energy wouldn’t do for her. It wasn’t enough. She needed to complete the act. The club had given Gale what she needed—a safe place to feed, to recharge and get her needs met. Or, at least the club used to offer that. Foolishly, Paisley had believed that when Gale found others like herself, others who needed sex to survive, and who weren’t what anyone would label straight humans, that Gale would be safe.

  Not true.

  Not true at all.

  Gale was special. So was Paisley. Unique, as Gale had always put it. They’d figured out as much when they were in their late teens, not that they were exactly far from the age now. Paisley felt worldly. As if she’d seen and done more than most girls in their early twenties. And she had. Then again, she wasn’t anything like most girls.

  At least Gale had made her feel less alone. Like less of a freak. But now Gale was gone. So was everyone else that Paisley had met through her friend. There was no sign of the redheaded woman who owned the place—Jinx. Though, word on the street was that Jinx cleared out of town and had moved her people with her. But not Gale. Paisley would have known if Gale went too. Gale would have told her. They were that close.

  Jinx had always been kind to Paisley, even offering her a job at the club. One that wouldn’t mean she had to service anyone sexually, but that would let her serve drinks, letting her be around the sexual energy, soaking it in. Paisley hadn’t been able to bring herself to do it. Doing so was like admitting defeat—not that sneaking around in brothels was any better. All she wanted to be was normal. She wanted a normal life, a normal job, and to stop having the urges. Instead, she’d let Gale sneak her in through one of the hidden entrances and she’d simply hang around in the hallways, gathering what was needed to make her feel rejuvenated again. Not an ounce more.

  And she never had to touch anyone.

  But lately the hunger wasn’t sated like it used to be. Simply being near all the sex in the club wasn’t doing it for her anymore and she had no one to talk to about it. There wasn’t a support group for sex-addicted supernaturals. At least, none that she was aware of. Though, there were a lot of things out there that weren’t human and they probably did have get-togethers.

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to take part in them.

  “How much for you?” a short, thin man asked, his eyes beady and his lips too narrow. He put a hand up on the wall near her, blocking her path. “What are you supposed to be? The girl next door? Bet that sells well.”

  Paisley pressed an artificial grin to her face, trying to look somewhat pleasant. The idea of the man touching her made her skin crawl. When Jinx had been running the place, men like this one wouldn’t have been allowed in. They hadn’t catered to scumbags, and this guy seemed like one. “I’m taken. See the front desk for who might be available.”

  He pulled a toothpick from his pocket and tossed it between his lips. “Damn shame. I haven’t banged a succubus in a while. You lot always give it good.”

  Succubus? Gale had tossed the term about more than once too, hinting that Paisley might be at least part succubus. “What makes you think I’m a succubus?”

  He sniffed the air, his beady eyes flickering to gold quickly before a forked tongue appeared out of his mouth. “I smell it.”

  She didn’t scream at the sight of him, which was saying a lot. She’d seen some freaky crap at the club, but he was new. “W-what are you?”

  “Snake shifter,” he said, touching the front of his pants. “Wanna see?”

  She squared her shoulders and looked past him, acting as if she had a client there, waiting. She waved in the other direction. “Coming!”

  The man glanced over his shoulder and then back at her. “When you’re done, find me.”

  “Sure,” she said, hurrying away from him as fast as she could. She ducked down another hall and exhaled, thankful to be rid of him. A shiver raced down her spine and she had to take a deep, calming breath. She knew better than to show fear in the club. Gale had explained as much to her more than once.

  Fear excites a lot of the clients.

  Several more people walked past her and paused, looking her over. They continued on, but when two women approached, arm in arm, they paused, coming to a stop before her. The woman on the left had a completely shaved head and a dog collar on. The tag read “bitch.” She had on a barely there top made of mesh, showing her nipples and breasts. Her skirt slung low on her hips. Tattoos marked the skin at the point where the skirt started. There were faint bite marks all over the woman’s body. Some looked fresh, others looked to be from long ago. None looked as though they’d been pleasant to receive. But Paisley had seen some weird stuff in her time and knew some people got off on pain and biting. Some things required it.

  The woman’s eyes flashed to black and she smiled, showing fang. Paisley didn’t shake or quiver in fear. She’d learned years ago that scary stuff of nightmares was real. In some ways, she was included in the mix. This woman didn’t scare her—much.

  Vampire, thought Paisley. She’d bumped into a few in her time. Most of the run-ins had been uneventful. Some hadn’t. Gale had been with her for all of them. There had been a point in her life when Paisley hadn’t known things like vampires existed. Seemed like another life. Now she knew about a lot of things that went bump in the night. Things that would terrify normal people.

  Things that sometimes still managed to scare her.

  Like the snake-shifter guy.

  She shuddered.

  Swallowing hard, Paisley did her best to pretend she was supposed to be there in hopes the women would simply lose interest in her and move on. No such luck. The bald woman eyed her, and the woman’s friend, who looked fairly normal compared to the other one with the shaved head, grinned. No fangs showed. Of course, that didn’t mean the woman wasn’t a vampire.

  Paisley tried to get an idea of what the other woman was, but she couldn’t get a good read. That had always been something Gale was better at. Gale had always seemed the stronger of the two of them in terms of what she brought to the table. And now she was nowhere to be found.

  A nagging pit returned deep inside Paisley’s stomach as she looked at the women before her. She couldn’t help but feel as if they knew something about Gale’s disappearance. That they were somehow connected. The one with the shaved head reached out quickly and snatched hold of Paisley’s upper arm, squeezing firmly, drawing a gasp as she did.

  “What have we here?” she asked, her accent sounding Eastern European.

  Her companion laughed. “A little virginal stray puppy.”

  Paisley stiffened. “I’m not a virgin.”

  The women laughed.

  “Liar,” said the vampire. “We can smell innocence on you and something else?”

  Her friend leaned in, blatantly sniffing her. “What is that?”

  “Succubus?” asked the vampire, seeming surprised. “How does a succubus stay a virgin?”

  Paisley tried to pry her arm free to no avail. “I need to go.”

  “Why are you here?” asked the other. “You aren’t one of those leftovers, are you? From the other owner.”

  “What do you know of Jinx?” asked Paisley, drawing suspicious looks from both women.

  “The better question is, what do you?” asked the vampire, sneering, tightening her hold on Paisley. “We’ll take you before the boss and you can answer his questions. I’m sure he has a ton for you. And he likes virgins. Though you won’t be one for long once you meet him.”

  “Let go of me,” said Paisley, only managing to get her arm squeezed harder. “I’ll go. I shouldn’t have come here. I just needed….”

  “Needed what?” asked the vampire as she pushed in closer, her face close to Paisley’s. “Tell me or you’ll tell the boss.”
r />   “I’ll go.”

  “Oh, you’ll stay now,” said the vampire with a laugh. She hissed and then made a move to bite Paisley, but stopped just shy of doing so, laughing harder as Paisley tensed. Tears wanted to fall, but she held tight, refusing to let the woman wearing a tag that summed her up see her cry. They pushed on Paisley, forcing her to back up more and more, and before she realized it, they had backed her into a room. One of the rooms reserved for servicing clients.

  They laughed as they slammed the door shut, locking her in. Paisley hit the door, pounding on it, but they didn’t open it. Their laughter was loud enough to hear through the closed door.

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” one shouted. “The boss will be in soon enough to keep you company.”

  Chapter Four

  “This is a bad idea.” Weston and Bane stood outside the sex club. Leaving Gus and Bill alone at a safe house wasn’t sitting well with him. They’d taken an unnatural interest in the pool at the safe house. “What if we go back and they’ve drowned?”

  Bane cast him a sideways glance. “Then you have two less things to worry about the rest of this trip.”

  He rolled his eyes, finding no humor in the idea Bill and Gus would drown. “You know what I mean.”

  “They’re grown men¸” reminded Bane, but Weston wasn’t so sure of that. The two seemed like man-children to him. He’d even called Casey to ask his opinion and the guy had thought they’d be fine on their own so long as no one left them access to keys or a car. Weston wasn’t so sure.

  “Um, you met them. Anything about them say they were grown yet?” asked Weston, still concerned. “We should call and check in. I left a burner cell with them.”

  “For a guy who threatens to eat them non-stop, you’re very protective,” said Bane, giving him a knowing look as if he suspected all along that Weston had a soft spot for the two stooges. “They’ll be fine. They’ve got ice cream, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and some DVDs I stocked in the place. They’re all good. And I even told them to wait thirty minutes after eating before they swim.”

  “Oh good, I should have remembered that.” Weston wasn’t used to palling around with humans anymore. It had been a long time since he’d been what one would term human, and he made a point after his change to cut ties with most. He’d been on his own before he’d joined the service, his mother passing when he was just a boy and his father totally unknown. He didn’t have family beyond that, and if he did, he didn’t know them. Somewhere in his family tree there were supernaturals, but he’d more than likely never know how or where. He accepted that. Didn’t like it much, but it was what it was.

  Bane snorted and put his hand on Weston’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “I was kidding. Relax. They’re adults. They’re fine. Now, let’s handle your issue and mine.”

  “You too?” he asked, wishing he had the same level of control over himself that Bane seemed to. “I may need to visit those monk friends of yours.”

  “You wouldn’t last five minutes,” said Bane, grinning as he rapped on the door to the club. “Some of those monks could kick my ass.”

  Weston snorted and then tipped his head. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, they were mostly shifters.”

  “That explains a lot.”

  A big guy who was probably supposed to look intimidating and be the muscle opened the door. The man made a half-hearted attempt to appear tough and then seemed to think better of it. Smart guy.

  “Enter,” the man said, sounding as if he was forcing his voice to be deeper than it was, and stepping aside to let them pass.

  Amateur.

  Weston was first in. He sniffed the air, sensing something was off, but he couldn’t put his finger on what. With as long as he’d been around, he’d spent a fair amount of time seeking out brothels that catered to the supernatural. It was sort of required when you didn’t have a mate and weren’t a guy a human girl could really handle. As was the case with Weston. He could go a couple of months between sexual releases now and he was thankful, because he tended to be a little bit too much for even supernatural, paid professionals. He did his best to calm his alpha side. It rarely worked.

  Bane cast him a sideways glance. Did he sense something was off at the brothel too?

  If so, he said nothing as two scantily clad women approached them, each holding a tray of drinks. The women were sexy, just like all the women were who were employed in places like this. Normally, Weston would have either snagged one of the welcome girls to fuck or placed his order then and there. He did neither. He simply watched them as they came to a stop. The blonde smiled up at Weston, pushing her chest out as she did. “Drink for the shifter?”

  She was probably a magik of some sort. They were decent at guessing what supernaturals were if they were trained well enough to spot them. One of the drinks was smoking and Weston had to wonder if that was healthy for anyone—immortal or not. Another looked to be a Bloody Mary, complete with actual blood from the smell of it. More than likely on hand for vampires or other supernaturals who preferred human blood in place of tomato juice. He wasn’t one of them.

  He also wasn’t one for frills when it came to what he drank. He liked it simple—straight liquor and beer. He reached for the beer and noticed Bane wasn’t biting on a drink even with how insistent the redhead near him was.

  Bane held up a hand signaling he wasn’t interested in having a drink. “No. Thank you, though.”

  The woman pouted her lips and swayed her hips back and forth slightly, as if to entice Bane. “Then tell me what you do want.”

  Bane thumbed to Weston. “My friend requires company of the female persuasion. For now, I’ll just watch.”

  She shook her head, looking Bane over slowly. “Shame, but if being a voyeur is your thing, we cater to that too. Are you sure you don’t want a little something more? I’d be happy to give it to you.”

  “No. I’m good. Thank you for the offer.”

  Weston stared at his friend and then linked on their mental path. I thought you needed to handle the urges?

  I do, but first I want to look around. Do you sense it?

  Sense what? asked Weston, already knowing what Bane would say. Clearly, he sensed something was off too.

  Shit.

  Weston was hoping to just have a quick fuck and be on with his night and get going with the search for the mysterious berries-and-cream girl. Of course the night would come with strings attached. Why wouldn’t it?

  The blonde gave a sultry smile as she reached out and touched the beer he was holding. “Tell me what type of woman you want and what kind of experience you’re looking for. We have it all. And I mean all of it. We are here to assure your fantasies are met.”

  Weston handed her the beer and then stopped in mid-movement as the smell of fresh berries and cream smacked him right in the face. He froze. It was her. She was here. He was sure of it. That or he was dreaming while being fully awake.

  Anything was possible anymore.

  The smell roused the bear in him, making sure the man paid attention.

  Of course you perk up when berries come into play, assface, he thought, more to his inner beast than himself.

  His cock hardened at a shocking rate. He sniffed the air without bothering to try to make the action look like one a human would do. There was no point in subterfuge. He was surrounded by those who understood what he was. By those who made their living catering to his alpha needs.

  Bane nudged him. “Weston?”

  “Do you smell that?” he asked, his pulse speeding and his breathing moving to match it. Who was the owner of the smell? Was she really here or was he just imagining it? Had his mind finally snapped? Would he be left like Gus, who had similar gifts to him but was so very obviously broken?

  “Smell what?” asked Bane, stepping closer.

  “Berries and cream,” replied Weston, on automatic pilot as he turned in a circle, looking around, trying to figure out if it was real or in his head.

&
nbsp; “I don’t smell anything but sex. The place is rich with it,” said Bane. “You okay?”

  He waved a hand at his friend in a dismissive manner. He couldn’t worry about Bane now. Not when he was so close to the woman who had been haunting his dreams. He had to find her. He had to see her. Had to put a face to the smell. Mostly, he had to see if she was real or if he’d finally cracked.

  He made a move to enter the club more, but the blonde blocked his path. He didn’t want a drink or to make a selection. He wanted the owner of the smell. He could have moved the blonde with ease, but he didn’t touch a woman that way, not unless she was wielding a weapon or shifting to try to kill him. That had happened a number of times in his long life. Bad guys weren’t reserved to just men. They came in the form of women too. A lesson he’d learned the hard way and he had the scars to prove it.

  “Who is that?” he asked, sniffing the air more, the smell of berries and cream mixing with something else. Was it fear?

  The need to find the owner of the scent and protect her was nearly all consuming. And he knew without a shadow of a doubt the scent belonged to a female. Not just any woman, either. The one he was supposed to find. The woman he’d dreamed of. He’d stake his life on it.

  The blonde pressed closer to him, the tray of drinks beginning to wobble. There was concern in her eyes. “Now, now, what do you smell?”

  “Perfection,” he said, unsure why the word popped out. “I want her. I want the one I smell. I’ll triple whatever you ask for her. I want her now.”

  “Weston, brother,” said Bane, concern in his voice. “You all right?”

  He stared around the dimly lit club, his gaze searching each of the groupings of people. Some were petting one another and another group was engaged in oral sex out in the open. In the back of Weston’s mind, he thought about the clubs he’d been to in the past that were run on the level. Very few of those permitted such acts to be done in the open area. But he didn’t care. All he wanted right now was for the woman who smelled like berries and cream to show herself.