Chapter 11
The music’s heavy bass spilled into the overflowing parking lot, beating against her chest like a drum even before she hit the doors to the Rave. Murphy’s Tavern, her Uncle Lyle’s bar, seemed to be packed as well. Two tall men, wearing cowboy hats, stood to the side of Murphy’s entrance, smoking cigarettes. The tips glowed red, just before they blew white smoke skyward, hazing the illuminated area beneath the safety lamps. Even though the two bars were close in proximity, sharing the same parking lot, their patrons couldn’t be more different. The Rave’s crowd, for one thing, was much younger. For another, they were high energy, which Tamera preferred.
She smiled, glad to have a night out. Gone was the fun-loving party girl she had once been. Over the past several months, the Rave had been a place for communion, and nothing more. Tonight, she was hoping to cut loose, if even just a little. She was ready to show Grayson what he’d be missing by giving her to Anton. That and Tamera wouldn’t mind seeing exactly what he was up to. The K&K crash truck was parked to the back of the lot, telling her he and Ryder had already arrived.
Tamera practically had to beg Kaleb into letting her leave with Anton, since technically the clubhouse was still on lockdown. She’d need to stay close to him, had promised Kaleb as much, just in case trouble happened upon the Rave. Normally, the Devils never went anywhere near the club since it was a known hangout for the Sons. Because of the recent trouble at the docks, the Sons were taking extra precautions. Once Ryder had his first communion behind him and could fully function, he could help the Sons tackle the threat of the Devils by IDing the men who attempted to take his life. Until then, they needed to stay vigilant.
The music grew in volume as she opened the heavy steel and glass door. Anton grabbed the top of the frame and held it for her. The doorman nodded, unhooked the scarlet velvet rope, and allowed them to bypass the line formed at the small window taking cover fees. Tamera’s gaze quickly scanned the crowd, not being able to help herself. She had overheard his desire to break his “dry spell” and she had every intention of stopping that from happening.
Anton leaned down, his breath spanning her ear. “You see him?”
She shook her head. Her nerves had her feet rooted to the floor. What if she were too late? Convincing Kaleb to allow her to accompany Anton had taken far too long. Grayson could have gotten a piece of ass easily in the time it took her and Anton to get there.
He placed his large palm in the center of her back, urged her forward, and guided her through the throng and toward the back of the club. “You’ll likely find Gypsy by the bar.”
“How do you know?”
Anton smiled. “Because Gypsy is always by the bar when he isn’t entertaining.”
Tamera looked over her shoulder and up at him, noting he had left off who he might be entertaining. She couldn’t hide her anxiety. “I hope we didn’t waste too much time. What if Grayson’s already got a woman … or two upstairs?”
“His first order of business is teaching Ryder to feed.”
“What if—”
Anton leaned down again, close to her ear. “Relax, doll. Don’t worry until he gives you reason to. The man’s been celibate for nine months. That’s insane given Gypsy’s past.”
“But you haven’t had a woman either.”
He chuckled. “I’m not a saint by any means. Part of that was hoping you’d look at me the way you look at Gypsy. I know now that’s never going to happen.”
“I’m sorry, Blondy.”
“Don’t. You didn’t ask for my ass. It’s always been Gypsy. I inserted myself, crawled into bed with you, and helped you through your change. That’s on me.”
She smiled at Anton. “You’re a good man.”
“Don’t go telling anyone that and ruining my rep.” He chuckled. “Besides, the other reason I kept it in my pants was out of fear of pissing off the old man.”
Tamera grinned in spite of her emotions. “Vlad?”
“Don’t tell him I called him old.” He nudged her in the small of the back to get her moving forward again. “I don’t want to give him reason to lop off my head.”
Tamera skirted one of the large round fluted colonial pillars separating the dance floor from drinking patrons. Several women, some of them donors, gathered in a semi-circle near the bar. Tamera wondered about the commotion. Anton chuckled, telling Tamera he found humorous whatever his height had allowed him to see. Raucous laughter rose above the din of music.
Anton applied light pressure to the center of her back again, prodding her to keep moving. Tamera shouldered her way through the women. Anton’s hand left her as she was swallowed by the gathering. A tall, black haired woman, she didn’t recognize, stepped to the side and looked at her curiously. Tamera’s gaze left the beautiful woman and landed on what lay across the bar.
Her mouth dropped.
There, flat on his back sans shirt, was Grayson. A blonde tart had latched to his abs, sucking whiskey from the contours. Tamera looked briefly back at Anton, who still seemed humored. She, on the other hand, wanted to knock Grayson on his ass and wipe up the bar with the tiny blonde.
Her acute hearing picked up Anton’s clearing of his throat, reminding her they were supposed to be the loving couple. She didn’t suppose pulling out the blonde’s hair by the roots would send the right message to Grayson. Finally spying Tamera in the gaggle of twits gathering around him, Grayson lifted his head and smiled big as could be.
He sat up, shoved the blonde to the side and grabbed a bar rag to mob up whiskey from the light dusting of hair on his chest and abs. Tamera’s gaze followed his movement to the happy trail of hair disappearing into the waistband of his leathers.
“Like what you see?”
Tamera’s gaze landed back on his, doing her damnedest to look nonchalant. “Not at all.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” he said and hopped off the bar. Grayson grabbed his shirt, which had been draped over a stool, and slung it over his shoulder, rather than putting it on. “We could go upstairs if you like.”
“Go to hell, Gypsy.” The arrogant ass! “You know I belong to Blondy. Your doing, remember?”
Humor twinkled his bright blue gaze, just before he glanced overhead no doubt spying the man. “Not like I could forget.”
He turned his back on her, grabbed his sunglasses from the bar and positioned them atop his dark head. Movement on the other side of the bar brought her attention from Grayson’s wide shoulders. Ryder leaned against the back counter, arms crossed over his chest, looking much healthier than he had a few hours ago. Grayson had obviously completed his first reason for being at the Rave. And by the looks of party boy, he hadn’t yet gotten to the second reason, ending that dry spell. Tamera hadn’t exactly thought their arrival at the bar through and had no idea what to do or how to go about stopping him from getting horizontal with the woman who had been sucking alcohol from his stomach. She stood to Grayson’s side, looking certainly pleased with herself.
Tamera turned back to Anton. At first she thought he meant to hang her out to dry as he leaned a shoulder against one of the pillars and casually watched the festivities. She tightened her jaw, raised one brow. He needed to get his act in gear and play the devoted mate. With a chuckle, he pushed off the pillar and stepped forward.
Just as the little blonde was about to go all clingy and reattach herself about Grayson’s waist, he shook his head. “Get lost, doll.”
The woman’s lower lip protruded. Rather than argue, she stomped a foot, then turned around and headed for the tables surrounding the dance floor. Tamera hid her answering smile behind her hand. Noting the brief indication of Grayson’s head, the bartender walked to the other end of the counter and left the four of them alone.
Anton wrapped his thick arms about her shoulders and pulled her against his hard body. He rested his chin on the top of her head. Grayson took in the alignment of their bodies, a muscle ticking in his cheek. His gaze rimmed black. Anton had been correct. Judging by t
he look on Grayson’s face, he wasn’t pleased in the least with Anton staking his claim.
Go big or go home.
Tamera snuggled her backside against Anton’s groin, feeling his answering erection and detecting the scent of his desire. She hated toying with Anton, even if she did have his blessing. The man was willing to sacrifice himself, in order for Tamera to get what she wanted. That and the fact he had said he’d enjoy watching Grayson suffer. Payback for the past nine months of Grayson’s censure.
“Get a room.” Grayson grumbled beneath his breath as he pulled his shirt over his head and knocked his sunglasses to the floor.
He tugged the bottom of the tee into place before bending down and picking up the glasses. Slamming them on the bar hard enough to break, Tamera winced at the look he leveled her way. She reminded herself, Grayson had been the one who asked for this. It was time to give him what he wanted.
“Very immature, Gypsy.”
Grayson sneered. “You’ve already fed. Why are you even here, Tamera?”
She smoothed her hand over the forearm wrapping about her. “Blondy hasn’t.”
“Then please get the fuck on with it. I’m suddenly feeling like there isn’t enough room in this club for the three of us.”
Anton chuckled. “You never minded a threesome before, Gypsy.”
He raised a brow. “You suggesting we share your mate, Blondy? Or you going to just watch while I fuck her?”
Tamera wasn’t sure how the hell the scene went south so fast. After Anton released her, pushing her clear of the fray, his fist connected with Grayson’s nose, spraying blood. Ryder jumped back, not about to get between two snarling vampires. Fists flew and blood spattered everywhere. Both moved so fast, Tamera couldn’t tell whose fist connected where. She had to hand it to Grayson. He didn’t have Anton’s brawn, but he gave the bigger vampire as much as he could handle. It wasn’t until Draven walked in from the back room, stuck two fingers into his mouth and whistled, that the two fell back.
Blood ran from their noses, and from already healing gashes on their faces, foreheads and knuckles. It was the first time she had witnessed two vampires throwing it down. Tamera had to admit, the sight kicked up her desire a few notches. If she hadn’t wanted to jump Grayson’s bones before, she certainly did now. The man was impressive in a fight. A scrappy, no holds barred kind of fighter.
Anton stepped beside her, his breathing normal, as if he hadn’t just exerted himself. God bless their vampire genes. Neither appeared winded at all. He placed his arm across Tamera’s shoulders and glared at Grayson. Tamera stiffened briefly, before leaning into his side and continuing the ruse. Swallowing back her desire for the other vampire, she snaked her arm about Anton’s trim waist.
“Crude as ever,” Tamera said, her gaze holding Grayson’s.
“The next time you show up here looking at me like I’m the main course, I’ll take you up on it, il mio dolce rossa.”
“You touch her—”
Grayson’s heated black gaze moved to Anton. “You’ll what, Blondy? Try to give me another ass whooping? Keep your mate under control and you won’t have a thing to worry about.” His nostrils flared. “I suggest you take her home and take care of that desire I scent on her. If you won’t, I’ll be glad to.”
Anton released Tamera and stepped closer to Grayson. For a minute she thought they’d come to blows again.
So must have Draven as he stepped up to the bar. “Take it outside, boys.”
Grayson looked at Draven briefly. “I’m done here, unless Blondy wants another shot at me.”
Anton shook his head. “Keep your hands off my mate, Gypsy, and we won’t have a problem.”
Grayson smiled arrogantly. “It’s her hands you ought to be worrying about. I promise you, she lays those hands on me again, I’ll be the one fucking her, regardless of what you or Vlad has to say about it.”
Having had enough of his abuse and mouth for one night, she stepped around Anton. “You had your chance, Gypsy. Go fuck yourself.”
Tamera turned on her heel and stormed from the club. She sure hoped her presence had incited enough jealousy to keep Grayson from following through with the reason he had gone to the Rave. His need had been evident. So why the hell was she so damn mad? Probably because the son of a bitch always managed to provoke her. If she were a smart vampire, she’d walk away. Problem was, it wasn’t her decision.
It never was.
So much depended on her staying put.
* * *
It had been three days since he had last seen Tamera Cantrell at the Rave. Her actions had burnt his ass and left him steaming days later. She no doubt was trying to get beneath his skin, make him regret his hasty decision to give her to Anton. And damn if it hadn’t worked. His craving for her had since risen tenfold. He wanted to taste her, drink from her, bury himself to his balls inside her. He wanted to leave a deep lasting impression so no man could ever slide between her thighs without her thinking of him. Seeing her with his one-time best friend had awakened the green-eyed monster with a vengeance. It was sheer willpower that kept him from hopping on the back of his Sportster and heading to Anton’s farmhouse.
She belonged to him first.
Grayson shook his head as the thought resonated in his head. Looking to the scarred wooden flooring beneath his feet, he followed a deep groove with the toe of his boot. He needed to suck it up, own up to his mistakes and move on. He doubted what he had set in motion could even be undone.
Tamera had turned him down flat. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been rejected before. Instead of waiting her out, though, he had thrown in the towel. Just like that. The census around the clubhouse women were correct. He was a jackass. His wounded pride had ruled his actions, and he had sent her packing.
He fisted his hands at his sides and tried to bite back the rising self-hate.
For months he had witnessed Anton’s suffering, all because of his infatuation with a woman who belonged to Grayson. He didn’t even bother hiding his attraction. As a matter of fact, he was blatant about it. Grayson might have felt sorry for Anton pining away had he not wallowed in self-pity for being stuck with the very same redhead.
Stuck.
Christ, he was a miserable, selfish fuck.
“What the hell are you doing over there, Gypsy? Trying to get out of work?” Grayson’s head popped up, eyeing Kane carrying a large box through the living area to the crash truck waiting just outside the front door. “This truck isn’t going to load itself. The quicker we get the last of these boxes, the faster you have one less woman in the clubhouse.”
There was certainly one thing worth smiling about today, one less female hanging about the clubhouse. “Feeling your age there, old man?”
Kane’s chuckle reverberated through the room. “I could still run circles around you.”
Grayson winked. “Any day you’re up for the challenge, you just let me know. Last time I checked, you couldn’t keep up with me.”
“That’s because a strong wind could blow you away. Try carrying my weight around, smart ass. For now, though … how about a little help? The sooner we get finished, the faster Ryder gets off the couch.”
“Get your ass moving, Gabor,” Cara said as she exited the bedroom with a couple of stacked boxes. “This shit ain’t moving itself.”
“Still bossy as hell, I see.” Grayson rubbed the whiskers on his chin. “How does Viper do it?”
“Because, unlike you, he listens to me.”
“More than likely he just wants a piece of ass.”
“At least he’s getting some.”
Kane’s laugher followed him back into the bedroom as he chased down more boxes.
“Not funny, Brahnam.” He smirked as he followed on the heels of her mate. “Not funny, but true.”
Cara’s house in the country had been thoroughly cleaned after the death of her coworker at the hands of Alec Funar, who had been following orders from Rosalee. Another callous death they had Kane’s ex t
o thank for. Grayson wished for the umpteenth time to take her primordial life. He doubted even her stepdaddy, Mircea, would agonize overlong.
It had taken Cara months to get past the savagery of Jeff Reeve’s death. And even though her home had been scrubbed of the vicious act, Cara hadn’t been ready to move back in … until now. The memories had faded just enough to allow her and Kane to make it their home.
Thank goodness.
Now to get Kaleb, Suzi, and little Stefan to see the light and find a homey place. The clubhouse could go back to what it was before Cara came crashing into their lives—a bachelor pad. Having an infant in the house? Sort of put a kibosh on bringing home mixed company.
Grayson thought of the little blonde from the Rave who had been sucking whiskey from his abs three night’s back. He doubted telling her to get lost earned him any brownie points, even if she had seemed pretty interested at the time. Maybe he could come up with some creative ways of making it up to her.
Who the hell was he trying to kid?
Though gorgeous in her own right, she wasn’t Tamera. You gave her to Anton, his conscience taunted him. Grayson needed to get that through his thick skull and move forward. After he helped Cara and Kane, he’d head to the Rave, take communion and see what developed. He’d need to be back by daybreak for the church meeting Kaleb had called. Afterward, he might just head for the coast for a little surfing to clear his head.
Ryder had IDed the Devils who had tried to kill him. The Sons needed to lay down a plan, take out the threat. Grayson would be more than thankful for something to do. He needed to get his head out of his ass. He grabbed a couple of boxes and headed for the crash truck, glad for the menial work to take his mind from the beautiful redhead.
Too late.
Two little words squeezing his heart. No way in hell Vlad would think him the better choice now that Grayson had given her away. Not to mention Anton had likely taken what was his right.
Ryder followed Grayson back to Kane and Cara’s room. Grayson handed him a couple of boxes. “Want to hit the Rave once we finish?”
Gypsy: Sons of Sangue Page 12