by Meg Ripley
“I took advantage of the mini fridge and brought my own,” he said, gesturing to the appliance next to the coffee station. “I have a lot of work to get done, so I figured I wouldn’t waste my time.”
She set the stack of envelopes on the corner of his desk. “I see. You’re the kind to work yourself to death. Well, that’s up to you, but you should really check out the little café around the corner. I’ll go with you sometime and show you all the good stuff.”
The idea of lunch with Sabrina—especially with her showing him “the good stuff”—lit Lance on fire. He tried to keep his focus on her face instead of her breasts as he pulled the pile of mail toward him. Her blouse fit tightly around her chest, and she had left just enough buttons undone to suggest what was underneath. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
She crossed the room to the coffee machine and poured herself another cup. She had already been in there three times that day, and every time had been like torture. “Great. Don’t forget we have a staff meeting tomorrow morning. Nobody will expect much from you, since you’re new, but it’ll give you an idea of what we usually do. I’ll be there with you if you have any questions.” She twirled toward the door and was gone.
Lance stared at the closed door, wondering how long he could carry on this way. Sabrina was able to create not just an interest within him, but an urge. He wanted her with a hunger that gnawed at him from the inside. Even when she had safely ensconced herself in her office, he still knew she was there on the other side of the door. It was as though he could read her heat signature right through the wall, but of course he couldn’t do that while he was human.
Listlessly, Lance flicked through the mail. There were catalogs for office equipment addressed to his predecessor, advertisements from insurance companies, and a coupon for ten dollars off a haircut. Most of this he cast aside, but the last piece of mail made him sit up. The paper of the envelope looked like old parchment, a deep cream color that accented the dark red seal holding it shut. The image in the wax was a twisted dragon, the same logo he had seen outside The Club.
With his heart pounding, Lance broke the seal.
Tonight. 9:30.
While it wasn’t any sort of formal invitation written in calligraphy like he might have expected, he couldn’t complain; The Darkblood Secret Society had finally decided to let him come back. His shoulder blades itched with anticipation, hoping he would get a chance to shift again. It had only been a few days since he had arrived in the city, but those precious few moments as a dragon at The Club simply weren’t enough.
Still, there was no telling just what the members had in store for him. He hadn’t expected to be tested and then thrown out on the street the other night, but it didn’t leave him with any good guesses as to what the reason for the invitation might be.
All he could do was wait and see.
The rest of the work day ticked by slowly, full of reports and financial analyses. Lance struggled through, trying desperately to train his thoughts on his work. When Sabrina next came through the door, he’d hardly made any progress.
“I just thought I’d let you know I’m heading home,” she said with a friendly smile. She had a little black purse in one hand and a travel mug in the other. “I won’t give you this kind of warning on a regular basis, though. I’m only doing it because you’re new.” Sabrina winked at him from the doorway.
She wasn’t distracting him quite like she had been earlier in the day; he had far too many things on his mind. “Have a good evening.”
“Don’t stay too late, okay? I’d hate to see you keel over from a heart attack like the last guy.”
Lance looked up at her, startled, but she was laughing.
“I’m sorry. I have to cheer myself somehow, don’t I?”
This gave him pause. In the short time he had known her, Sabrina had always seemed happy. He now noticed the faint glow in her eyes, as though she was holding back tears.
“Is there something wrong?” He didn’t know what might possibly have affected her sunny disposition, but it sent a boiling anger through his bloodstream. His muscles tensed, ready to jump up and fight, but he forced himself to stay seated.
“Oh, no. Of course not. Just a little office humor. See you in the morning!” Sabrina forced a smile and left.
****
It seemed like it had been an entire day since he had received the invitation from The Club, but when Lance finally found himself on the sidewalk in front of the unassuming building once again, he had more energy than he knew what to do with. He studied the doors, flat and without a handle, knowing that just on the other side of them lay his new future. Finally, he stepped forward and knocked.
Bruno swung the door wide to admit him, casting a suspicious glance up and down the sidewalk before closing it again. “Come with me.”
“What, no blindfold this time?” Lance joked. “That’s a nice change of pace.”
The bouncer frowned at him, clearly displeased by having to allow him inside the fortress. “Be careful, newbie. You’re walking a thin line tonight.” He guided him to a long staircase, surrounded in stone.
Even though he hadn’t seen it before, Lance knew these were the same stairs he had climbed during his previous visit. It was much easier when he was allowed to see his feet, and he followed Bruno all the way up through the building and down several hallways. The place was built like an old castle, with flaming sconces lighting the way. One hall was completely lined with mirrors, forcing the occupants to look at themselves as they progressed. Lance felt that he looked entirely too human.
The door at the end of the hall swung open silently. “Lance Rockland is here to see you, Mr. Cross.”
Seated in the same place Lance had seen him before, Mr. Cross steepled his fingers in front of him. “Please, have a seat.”
“I appreciate you inviting me back,” Lance began as he sat down. The chair was deep and comfortable; there seemed to be little in this place that wasn’t made of pure luxury. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure where this was going to go after last time.”
“I’m still not sure where it’s going,” Mr. Cross interrupted sharply as he produced a small card from his jacket pocket. “This is your temporary membership. If anyone questions you, and it’s quite possible they will, you just show it to them.”
Lance took the card. It was thick and had an aged look to it, just like the invitation he had received at the office. His own name had been carefully inked with a fountain pen, along with the date.
“Thank you, I—”
“I let the members vote on whether or not to let you in.” Mr. Cross stood abruptly and crossed the room to the window, where he stood with his hands clasped behind his back. “It’s not often that we meet someone new, you know. The Darkblood Society has been operating for a long time, and we pride ourselves on knowing about all the shifters in the Northeast. I’m sure you can understand that your arrival the other day was a bit of a surprise to us. Still, you showed that you are certainly one of us, and we’d like to give you a chance. I’ll warn you that not everyone voted to do so, and you very well may make enemies here.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Lance rubbed his hand over his chin. Mr. Cross was the type of man who liked to be in charge at all costs. It was the sort of personality flaw that was irritating on a daily basis but that probably kept his ownership of The Club safe. Dragons weren’t always cooperative, and he wasn’t going to put up with insubordination from anyone.
“You do that.” Mr. Cross turned to face Lance once again. “You’ll be permitted to come to The Club anytime you wish. You may eat and drink to your heart’s content, and you may use the grounds at your leisure. But I can revoke your membership at any time, so I suggest you behave yourself.”
“Are there any rules I need to know about?” Lance had spent most of his life making his own rules, but obtaining a permanent membership in The Club was important to him. Nowhere else would he find a place he could truly be himself. He was willin
g to play along, at least for a little while.
Mr. Cross smiled, a cruel look creeping over his thin lips. “Just use common sense. You don’t tell anyone about this place, not that you’re coming here and not what it is. You don’t reveal your true identity to anyone, even if you believe you can trust them. Most of all, the Society comes first. No matter what else is happening, your loyalty to us is the most important thing.”
“Understood.” Those were rules Lance could play along with. If only his uncle could see him now, about to become a member the Darkblood Society. They had spent many evenings discussing the rumors, and now Lance would be living it.
“Very well. Bruno will take you down to the lounge. Don’t let me hear from you or about you until I’m ready to.”
Lance nodded and followed the brutish man back through the maze of hallways and down the stairs; they then veered to the right through a large set of wooden doors and into the lounge. It was dark and inviting, with hidden light fixtures that cast a soft glow from the corners of the room. There were several clusters of leather chairs and sofas, with low tables and potted plants between them. A wooden bar ran along the right side of the room with a massive collection of bottles behind it. The bartender was a young woman with pale skin and dark hair, and she looked up as she wiped down the surface of the bar.
Lance made his way over to her. “What’s good here?”
She watched him from under her thick fringe of bangs. “Everything.”
“Whiskey and Coke, then. What’s your name?”
The bartender moved slowly as she retrieved a bottle of expensive whiskey from the shelf behind her and set a high ball glass on the bar.
“Mia.”
“That’s a lovely name.” Lance studied her, trying to determine just who—and what—she was. It was clear she didn’t enjoy having him in her bar, something he hadn’t experienced before. But was she a shifter or a human? Did Mr. Cross have human slaves working for him? He had heard of such things, but not for a long time.
She finished mixing the drink and shoved it toward him. “Don’t bother. I’m not interested in you or your story. I have enough to keep track of without babysitting some newbie.”
Just as he was about to protest, a waft of human scent assaulted his nostrils. Lance was ready to hurl an insult at her, but he noticed that he was no longer alone at the bar. A man had sat on the stool right next to him, and he was watching him intently.
“Don’t mind Mia,” the guy said as the bartender handed him a shot glass of the same brand of whiskey and glared at him. “She doesn’t get paid to be nice.”
“Shut up, Jason. I have a right to express my opinion.”
Jason raised an eyebrow at her. “I guess that means I can express my opinion that you wouldn’t make it a week if you worked at a human bar.” He tossed back the drink and slammed the glass on the counter.
Mia scoffed at him, chucked the glass in a sink, and disappeared through a door behind the bar.
Lance turned to him and held out his hand; it was time to start making friends, whether he liked it or not. The members of The Club could just as easily vote him out as they voted him in. “I’m Lance Rockland.”
“Oh, I know. I think everyone does. I’m Jason, Jason Cross.” With his light brown hair swept back off his forehead and his boyish smile, he didn’t look like he could be a shifter. The human scent that stuck to his clothing made Lance wonder if this guy was even supposed to be here, but his last name had caught Lance’s attention.
“Cross, as in Mr. Cross?” Lance took a sip of his drink. It was too strong, but he was probably going to need it.
“The very same. He’s my father, and Mia is my cousin.” He looked at the door she had gone through and shook his head. “She gets away with murder, but she can make some decent cocktails when she puts her mind to it. Tell me, how did you hear about us? It seems strange that a shifter all the way from Illinois would know exactly where to find this place.”
Lance pressed his lips together. It didn’t seem fair that he was going to have to reveal his past already, not when he had been a member for less than five minutes. But Jason seemed friendly enough, and he was a good connection to have. “I grew up on a farm with my uncle, who was also a shifter. A distant cousin of mine who was passing through told us about the rumors he’d heard. We weren’t sure what to think of it at the time, and I was far too young to even imagine leaving home. But I decided to look it up online—on the dark web—as an adult, and there was more information out there than I expected.”
Jason frowned as he got up and made his way around the bar, grabbing the bottle of whiskey and pouring himself another shot. “I’ll have to look into that. What makes you want to join our little group?”
Lance wasn’t sure if Jason’s questions were borne of curiosity or if he had been asked to interrogate the stranger for his father.
Shrugging, Lance took another sip. “It’s a big city…with a lot of humans in it. Where else am I going to be able to find others like myself?”
Jason smiled. “Hey, not all humans are bad. I happen to know, since my girlfriend is one.”
“You’re kidding.” Lance swung his head back to his drinking partner, who was grinning even harder now. It certainly explained the way he smelled. “And your father approves?”
“Oh, I think he might be hoping it’s just a phase and I’ll get over it, but that’s not too likely. Besides, look around.” Jason gestured around the lounge. “Do you see many females here?”
The lounge was indeed filled with men. Mia was the only woman he had seen, and Jason hadn’t mentioned if the shifter gene was in her blood or not. The genetics of dragons could be unreliable, but she certainly didn’t smell human.
“Come on. I’ll introduce you to some of the guys.” Jason hopped up from his barstool and strode across the room with confidence.
Lance followed. If the other members accepted him even half as well as Jason seemed to, then he was home free.
“This is Dirk,” Jason said, pointing to a tall, thin man with brown hair that swooped up from his hairline and fell to the side. “He’s the one you’d really want to talk to when it comes to human women. They’re kind of a hobby of his.”
Dirk had flinty eyes, and he flicked them at Lance over his dirty martini. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ll tell you right off that I didn’t vote you in. How do we know you aren’t some sort of spy? Or a hunter? I hear they’re on the rise again.”
This was news to Lance, but he didn’t let it show. “I wouldn’t be surprised; hunters killed my parents. I’d be happy to take care of some of them if you know where they are.” The temperature of his blood rose, threatening to force him into a shift.
“Pretending to be some badass renegade isn’t going to make me like you any better,” Dirk cautioned. “And killing the hunters is a nice idea, but Mr. Cross would never allow it.”
“My father makes a pretty big deal of keeping our secret,” Jason explained. “It’s to the point of being annoying sometimes, but he’s trying to ensure our safety. Killing hunters would only call attention to us, plus it would only confirm what the hunters keep telling the rest of the humans. As it stands right now, most of them don’t believe that we actually exist.”
“That’s exactly why we need to eliminate them, though,” said a man who sat across from Dirk. He had soulful eyes in a shade of pale blue, and he kept them focused on the orange slice in his old fashioned. “They keep gaining ground, touting their cause on the internet and any other media that will have them. Eventually, someone is going to believe them. You’ve got to make your dad listen, Jason.”
Jason squared his shoulders. “It’s a nice idea, Ethan, but he’s been running this society for decades. He knows more than we do. Come on.” He looked at Lance. “I’ll take you out to the garden.”
They wound their way through the lounge and exited the building. It was dark out here, but Lance recognized the large, winding hedges and the li
t pools. He had more of a chance to look around now, and he realized the walls of the garden were actually composed of the building itself. The garden was in a courtyard, completely shielded on all sides by tall buildings.
“Out here,” Jason explained, “you’re free to shift anytime. You can fly, but you have to stay below the rooftops. There’s always plenty of food and drinks available. The Club started off as just the building where the lounge is, but it’s too expensive to have dragons indoors. My father bought the entire block and transformed it into what you see here.” He looked proudly over the grounds with his arms crossed in front of his chest and a small smile playing on his lips.
“Then why are so many members still in their human forms?” Lance had noticed a few dragons laying near the pool, their sleek bodies graceful and relaxed. One of them dove under the water, his tail undulating gracefully as he propelled himself to the other end. But there were plenty of men who had retained their bipedal nature, relaxing on comfortable chairs, sipping drinks, and smoking cigars.
“Some find it therapeutic to shift, but others prefer the luxuries of the human world. Everyone is a little different, and we like to think that every member can be comfortable in the way that works best for him.” Jason himself seemed perfectly complacent the way he was.
Lance longed to let go of the shape he had been fighting so hard to keep, but there were a few more answers he needed from Jason. “Mr. Cross said he had everyone vote on my membership. Dirk said he was opposed to the idea, and I believe him. Can I ask what your choice was?”
The other man smiled. “You don’t like to gloss things over, do you?”
“The devil is in the details, and perhaps a dragon or two.”
Jason clapped his hand on Lance’s shoulder. “I voted for you. I thought it might be a good idea to have some new blood in here; to stir everyone up a little. But Dirk is always stirred up, so he doesn’t count. You’ll find an interesting mix of shifters here. Some, like Ethan, think the Society is too strict; others think it isn’t strict enough, and I’m sure there are some who don’t give a shit either way.” He reached out to a nearby table and snagged a cold beer, having left his bottle of whiskey back on the bar.