Bleeding Hearts: Book One of the Demimonde

by Ash Krafton

  "Think so?" Mr. Muscles set the kid down as if he were a marshmallow. Still gripping him by the collar, he growled into the younger man's face, "Perhaps you'll find a worse fate in her hands, terrifying little thing she is."

  "Thanks a bunch, Tanner!" The little demon yelped as he took off, Chesty Girl in hot pursuit. Her friends rolled their eyes as if they'd seen it all before.

  I tried not to stare slack-jawed at Tanner. I couldn't get over these muscles. Marek hadn't lied when he said the DV had accelerated strength. It was obscene.

  "Now we dance." He drew me away from the rest of the girls. The beat picked up with the next song and, lights flashing above and below, the crowd bounced along.

  Tanner must have been born to dance. He glided and rolled with a fluidity I'd never seen. At one point I tried to imagine Marek dancing but laughed and gave up.

  Marek could move, but not as serpentine-like as this guy. Tanner was a preternatural John Travolta a la Saturday Night Fever, right down to the dark wavy locks and hairy chest peeking out of his open collar.

  Gradually, the beat relented, winding its way down into a slow song. Not wanting to close-dance, I smiled a thanks-and-so-long smile. Tanner blinked lazily and grabbed my hand, tugging me off the floor.

  "Let's go shoot some pool." His white teeth, straight and non-pointy, glinted strangely under the black lights. Climbing the steps out of the bowl, he tugged me toward the hall that led to other parts of the club.

  I didn't want to, but I was here to mingle at Marek's command. Reluctantly, I nodded my head and tried to look like I thought it was a great idea.

  The hallway leading to the pool room was crowded with canoodling couples and laughing girls. Tanner draped his arm around my shoulders and squeezed us through. His hands were getting too nosy and I had to keep moving them out of forbidden territories. I hated grabby guys and he was definitely one of them. Wishing I had my cell phone, I began planning a polite escape.

  Halfway through the hall Tanner drifted toward a corner. When he nuzzled my neck I put both hands on his chest and pushed him away. "Thanks, but I'm not interested."

  "Yes, you are. I can smell it." He grabbed my arm and pushed me back against the wall, pressing against me and shoving his face close to mine. "You aren't going anywhere without me. What I want can happen right here."

  Apparently, I thought with disgust. I could feel his eager parts springing up against my hip. I shoved him with effort. "Get off me, creep, or I'll scream."

  Rubbing his obscene interest against my hip, he laughed. "Go ahead."

  I screamed. B-movie perfect every time.

  Every girl around me screamed back, playful, mocking, echoing it and canceling it out. No one moved to stop him. My mouth hung open in dismay as I wildly scanned the disinterested crowd. No one looked. No one cared.

  "I love vamp security." Tanner growled, showing teeth. He darted his head down for a kiss, hard and rude.

  Twisting my head away I slapped him, the snap of the impact hurting my hand.

  "Do it again, bitch." He slitted his eyes. "I'll bite you so hard you'll wish you woke up dead."

  "As if. You can't turn me vamp. I'm not stupid." I pushed my way past, but he stood his ground, forcing me to slide against him.

  He caught me around my waist and wrenched me back, thumping me into the wall. "Neither am I."

  He grabbed my jaw and twisted my head up, forcing me to look at his face. His eyes were wolfy, the color of burned oranges and Autumn rust.

  Eyes wide, I fought in earnest. Instinctively my knee slammed into his crotch. It barely fazed him.

  He grabbed my wrists and yanked me up to his face. He had more teeth than any person had the right to have. "That's it, bitch. Consider yourself bitten."

  "Not if I bite you first!" Using his momentum, I jumped up at him. I found his ear with my mouth and clamped down with everything I had. Flesh crunched and ripped between my teeth as I tore away.

  He dropped me and grabbed at his ear, screaming in pain. This time, no one screamed back, because Tanner howled like a wounded dog.

  I spit out a mouthful of blood. Salt and uncooked meat and wet dog, possibly the worst combination I ever tasted. All I wanted was a glass of something so I could gargle. I spit and wiped my tongue off until it was bumpy and dry, all the while mentally screaming, so much for universal precautions, moron!

  Unseen hands drew me gently away from Tanner, who warily watched the circle of men closing in on him. I stared at him with a bland catatonia, craning my neck when a couple of bouncers hustled him backwards through a service door. A woman spoke next to my ear. "Let's find your booth."

  The soft voice behind me sounded a lot nicer than Tanner so I didn't argue. Her hands on my shoulders, she guided me through the thickening crowd, nosy humans trying to peer past the thick wall of Rodrian's men.

  The music, the light, the dancing continued without a skip. No one paid any attention to me; everyone seemed determined to act like nothing had happened. I knew they knew. The anxiety was tangible.

  She guided me to my booth. As I slid in, I saw my rescuer. The pretty Latina, dressed head to toe in a leather suit that didn't hide any of her roller-coaster curves, glanced over the top of the booth before sitting next to me. Intense concern crowded her delicate features.

  "Need a drink?" At my wordless nod, she motioned over my head. "Are you bitten?"

  "No. I don't think so. He just... well, humped me a little."

  "Are you sure?" She peered worriedly at me. "Let me see."

  "I'm fine," I insisted, as she turned my head this way and that. I impatiently endured her examination, rapping my hands against the table, trying to drain off the high tide of tension.

  "I saw blood on you. I have to make sure." She wiped at my shoulder, the napkin coming away with a bloody smear. Accusation lit her eyes, a flash of deep violet.

  "Not mine. I bit him. Oh, shit." Something awful occurred to me. "Will I catch wolf?"

  Finishing her inspection, she released my chin. "No. Lycanthropy is transmitted by saliva. The beast has to be in animal form, at least in part."

  I remembered his pumpkin-colored eyes and shuddered. When the shudders didn't cease, I hugged myself and rocked. Cold. I remembered this kind of cold. It was panic. Shock would follow. I whimpered and tried to breathe over my lobbing heartbeat.

  She wrapped her arm around me in a comforting gesture. "You did a smart thing. I never would've thought of it."

  "I was scared silly. I still am. Marek..."

  "Has been called," she interrupted. "Already on his way."

  The sound of his name summoned him out of thin air. He gathered me against him and rocked me, cradling my head to his chest. I held onto him and listened to his heartbeat, feeling my tremors slowly settle. Relief pushed away the horror of what happened.

  Rodrian was furious. My hearing muffled by Marek's embrace, I could faintly hear his voice as he interrogated someone.

  "Not here." I heard Marek's voice through his chest, hollow and distant. "In the office."

  He released me, and I sought the girl who'd rescued me. She was talking with some of the girls who'd originally danced with me. I caught her eye. "Thanks for helping me."

  She beamed back in reply, shrugging as if it were nothing extraordinary.

  Rodrian's eyes flicked over her. "Yes, Dahlia. Our thanks."

  Dahlia blushed a deep rose and lowered her eyes, seeming both embarrassed by the praise and flattered by the notice.

  "Okay, everyone. Let's just have a good time tonight. Right?" Rodrian dispersed the small crowd. On cue, they turned and drifted away.

  As they scattered, I caught a glimpse of the rogue who started it all. His hands were shoved into the front pockets of his jeans, his shoulders hunched. He looked at me with troubled eyes, worry drawing creases in his brow.

  Our eyes connected. You and me both, kid.

  He melted into the crowd as Marek steered me away. I suppose I just added Number Four to the list
of why I hated clubs. Frigging werewolves.

  The calm evaporated once the door clicked shut. Everyone clamored to be heard.

  Teeth firmly set into my lower lip, I huddled in the corner of the big leather couch. It wasn't as comfortable as the one in his office at Tenth Street. This one was old, the leather hard and unyielding, slippery and crunchy at the same time. And it was cold. It felt like sitting on a frozen cow.

  Marek stood in front of me like a monolith, almost daring anyone to come closer. Rodrian paced behind his desk, speaking on his cell phone, while the guards argued amongst themselves. Caen sat next to the desk, his eyes making a circuit around the room, watching everyone. His gaze slid over me as if I wasn't even here. What a charmer.

  Eventually, Rodrian lowered his phone and raised a hand. Everyone grew quiet, voices ceasing mid-sentence. The silence was brittle.

  "The bottom line is: he shouldn't have been admitted. The 'No Were' policy is well known and should have been enforced. I want to know where he got in and why it never reached my attention. Greco, take two men and question every door guard. Report back to Caen."

  The men left without a word as Rodrian addressed those who remained. "Where is he?"

  A voice spoke from the back of the room. "Wine vault, sir."

  "Good." A smile, hollow and mean, ghosted across Rodrian's visage and a pulse of vengeance colored his power. Younger brother but not lesser. "I want answers. Keep a dozen on him at all times. Use whatever means necessary to keep him alive."

  "What will happen to him?" Startled heads swiveled in my direction. They'd apparently forgotten I'd been involved.

  "Does it matter?" Marek didn't turn around. His anger had settled around him as if he wore a thundercloud. "He assaulted you. He earned his death."

  "You can't kill a guy because he tried to..." Only two words would have fit the end of that sentence and I didn't want to say either one.

  Rodrian strode over and knelt next to the couch, reaching over the arm to touch my shoulder. "He wanted to rape you, Sophie. No, look at me. He also said he'd bite you. That would have been so much worse."

  He glanced up at Marek who, at this point, could have thrown off lightning. "What do you know about the Were?"

  When I shook my head, Rodrian spat an impatient curse. Marek whirled around. "There is still much for her to learn, brother, and I haven't taken the time to teach her about dogs and their filthy tricks. Certainly I did not think a lesson in Were was prerequisite for a visit here."

  "This is our world, Marek," Rodrian countered. "The Were are as much a part of it as we are, as are vampire or human. We are all part of the Balance. You may not like them, Marek, but you can't live in a world separate from them."

  Marek didn't like being lectured and his power grew bruised and swollen with anger. Rodrian was on his feet, squaring off to face him. He was just as angry about what happened and his anger sought a target. Between them I caught a glimpse of Caen.

  He smiled and laced his fingers over his stomach.

  It really pissed me off to see Caen enjoying the brothers facing off, so I decided to put an end to his fun. Spoil-Sport Sophie, that's me.

  I stood and wedged myself between them. Facing Rodrian, I reached backwards to find one of Marek's hands, entwining our fingers. His other arm draped across my collarbone as he relaxed behind me. I shifted my concentration to his brother.

  "Rode, it's okay. Marek's right. There hasn't been time to tell me everything." I kept my voice gentle, trying to talk him down. "Tell me why biting me would be worse."

  "Because, Sophie." Rodrian glanced from me to Marek and back again. "When you're bitten, you become immediate possession of the Den. You go to a safe house until the next full moon. If you turn, you become part of their Den. If you don't, you get an amnesia treatment and you go home. They claim that at the safe house, you're surrounded by people who can prepare you for what would happen if you'd been infected."

  "You keep saying 'if.' There's a chance even if he bit me I might not have turned, right?"

  "In theory," Marek said. "In reality, safe houses are anything but. You would be kept captive and repeatedly bitten to ensure your turning." His voice dropped and he spoke through gritted teeth. "You'd be brutalized and treated like an animal so you would be Pack-broken by the time the moon grew."

  His hand squeezed mine tightly. "They are animals. They behave like animals."

  Fear turned my knees to water and I wobbled. Rodrian blanketed my free hand in his. I felt the last of his tension drain away; mine, however, was an altogether different story.

  "But you're safe, Sophie. Whoever this guy is, he won't get another chance to hurt anyone." He raised my hand to his mouth, his kiss a tender oath.

  "Tanner," I mumbled. "His name is Tanner."

  "He told you his name?" Caen rose and stepped closer, a different kind of interest filling his face. Caen's dark eyes and penetrating stare made me uneasy. I didn't like being under his scrutiny. He made me feel as if he could take something away from me if he stared hard enough.

  "No." I avoided eye contact. "Someone else called him Tanner. Some kid who danced funny." I couldn't think straight. Too much bad stuff all at once. Again.

  "We must find him." Caen motioned with his fingers to draw two more men forward out of the group. "Describe him. Funny isn't helpful enough." He pushed his power at me, demanding I relinquish the information. I shrank, leaning into Marek's embrace.

  Marek released me and drew me behind him. He batted away Caen's intrusion with a push of his own, causing Caen to reel.

  Undisguised hatred flared in the smaller man's eyes. "Don't push me, Thurzo."

  "So you do remember my name." Marek stared him down until Caen backed away. He stood near the rest of Rodrian's force, who watched with neutral expressions.

  Regular people didn't do things like this. Regular people didn't fit themselves into places on a food chain. I knew nothing of this world. I was helpless.

  "Talk to me, Sophie, and tell me what you know. Every detail." Rodrian stroked my cheek and gazed into my eyes. His patience and desire to help me felt like a liquid warmth behind my eyes, soothing and relaxing.

  Without hesitation, I poured out everything: the descriptions of the girls, the kid who angered Tanner, the chesty chick who went after him when he took off. I told him details I didn't realize I remembered until they spilled out. I remembered details I didn't realize I had blocked, including the way everyone screamed back, ignoring my cry for help.

  "He said he loved vamp security." Still not understanding the remark, I glanced from Rodrian to Marek and back again.

  Both men appeared unconcerned and Marek only offered the briefest of explanations. "It is camouflage. Sometimes a feeder loses their nerve. Sometimes a guest sees something that shouldn't be seen. If someone screams, humans become alarmed. If a group of girls scream together playfully, it diffuses the fear, the danger."

  Rodrian shrugged in agreement, as if saying it is our way.

  "Yeah, well." I couldn't hide the pinch in my voice. "I almost became someone's lunch."

  "And that's the problem we need to investigate." Rodrian left me to Marek, and faced the group again. "Go, you all have work to do. Caen..."

  His mild tone halted the man at the door. "Please remain. We need to speak."

  Rodrian smiled, a gesture for my benefit alone. He wore his mature businessman facade but darkness slid beneath the smile. Things would turn ugly when the door closed between us.

  "G'night, Rode." I tugged Marek toward the door. "Thanks for the swell evening." I gave him a wry smile to let him know I was okay, that his phony smile had worked; I would survive this, too. Marek hugged my shoulders to lead me out.

  I hoped the room was soundproof.

  We didn't talk much in his car. I slumped in the Lincoln's heated seat, leaning my forehead against the window, watching the cars and people and buildings streak by in a blur of light and color.

  Marek didn't waste time comforting
me with words; he knew I'd be okay, eventually. I needed time to sulk. He draped his arm across the back of the seat and from time to time he'd touch my hair. His power, protective and subdued, hovered around me. It was all I needed, so much more than empty words.

  Eventually, I had to say something. "Tonight pretty much sucked."

  "Yeah. But it will be worse for someone else." Marek's tone was dark, even for him.

  Marek tapped the horn at a taxi that had cut in front of us. Just once, I'd like to see him act a little human. I'd have thrown a flock of finger birds at the driver and yelled out the window. Marek's reserved composure made me feel like I had zero self-control by comparison.

  "Why is there a nowhere rule? At Folletti's, I mean." Now was as good a time as any to learn about yet another species.

  Marek cleared his throat. "No-Were," he emphasized. "Certain places are off limits to other species. Folletti's is a restaurant for humans and feeding ground for DV. The No-Were policy maintains the Werekind cannot show up unannounced. They have to be checked in and approved before they are admitted, and even then only under certain conditions."

  "Are you at war or something?" I thought of the movies I'd seen, since I didn't have a tremendous experience pool when it came to werewolves. The analogy might have merit, since people of the same species went to war, often over trivial differences.

  "Nothing so dramatic, no, but we generally don't mingle. For one thing, Weres are only slightly better than curs. They act like animals. They're content to waste their gifts and run about on all fours whenever the moon swells. It's pathetic."

  "Is this what Rode meant when he said anti-Were?"

  "Point taken." His voice lost the contemptuous tone as he continued. "There is a more practical reason why the Were are unwelcome in DV feeding grounds. Granted, it's a reason based on legend rather than fact but no one is willing to test the theory."

  "Which is?"

  "I'm getting to it." He took a deep breath, a sure sign of a long and detailed lecture. "I've told you a great deal of our Genesis lies in Egyptian mythology. We are descendants of Horus."