My new club wasn’t far from Kyros Sky. “No, thanks. I’ll be back at the estate by 4:00 a.m. or so.”
“As you say, miss.” He glanced out the window. “I better help you into the club.”
I eyed the stack of camera fuckers either side of the red carpet. They could get brusque. And nothing cried rich woman like a bodyguard. “I’d appreciate that.”
Of course, if no one had shown up—or showed up later—the headlines tonight and tomorrow would ruin the club. I’d made the Indebted feel vulnerable, and now it was my turn.
Glancing down to make sure my bits were inside the white leather leotard, I waited for Fred to open the door. When he did, I extended one long leg out of the limousine and paused.
Because great shot.
White leotard, silver feather shoulder pads, dark eyes, and messy curls that tickled my lower back? Nude stilettos gave my legs the endless illusion. I looked untouchable. Forbidden.
I straightened and waited for Fred to close the door before moving down the red carpet behind him. Indebted had to be all around me—there was no way they wouldn’t be protecting me right now—but I couldn’t see a single one through the throng of reporters.
“Miss Le Spyre, can you tell us why you renamed the club to Forbidden?” one shouted.
Uh, because Ricky Pikar fucking named it after me. In numbers.
Turning my smile on full wattage, I twisted to glance over my shoulder at him. “Figure it out yourself. It’s a secret.”
I held a finger to my lips.
If Tommy could see me right now, she’d bust a gut, but I’d had to attend sessions with the estate publicist during my business training. The media gobbled this cheesy shit right up.
My stomach flipped.
“Basilia! Bottom right! International business success, why a nightclub?”
I located the journalist, cocking a hip and flicking my hair back as the cameras flashed. I hated stuff like this. I wasn’t a natural mover. MET Gala clips on YouTube were a fucking godsend. “You don’t enjoy doing things you know you shouldn’t?” I asked her, tilting my head. That would reinforce the nightclub brand.
“Is this a sign of what’s to come from the Le Spyre empire?” she called in reply. “A left-turn from your grandmother’s plaid vision?”
And this is part of why I hated events. In a bid not to show my reaction, I turned my gaze to a camera, dropping my chin to deliver what I hoped was a saucy smoulder. Part of me was glad I’d done the photo shoot with Lionel.
“My grandmother hated plaid,” I said mildly.
They had enough shots to do what I’d invited them for. As long as the Indebted hadn’t stood me up, whether the media painted the club in a good or bad light, this place would be filled to the brim for months to come. A promise of mixing with the rich and famous—with a healthy dose of exclusivity—very few could resist such an allure. Probably just Mrs Gaughton, Mr Triffz, and the rest of my realty trouble list.
“Middle left! Who can we expect to come tonight?” a man in a greasy T-shirt boomed.
Who indeed.
I scanned him up and down. “No one you’d know.”
The other journalists laughed.
Old money bitchery. I was kind of great at faking it. At least, I hoped it was mostly fake...
I’d settle for 50 percent fake.
Fred directed me through the alleyway to a small square sign halfway down. Ricky’s flashing neon 2274 sign was replaced immediately. If a person didn’t know where Forbidden was, they’d never find it.
Exclusive.
To my surprise, the doors were pulled inward as I approached.
My heart leapt at the sight of Marcus and Kirsten in their black leather outfits. I grinned at them as I entered. Cameras flashed from behind to get a glimpse. All they’d see were two beautiful creatures and a black curtain.
I faced the two Vissimo when the doors closed. “Glad you could show up.”
Two were here at least, and the squeeze in my heart at the sight of them was borderline painful.
Sweeping back the black curtain, I stared at the vampires filling the club. More than my fifty were here. Way more. Several hundred at least.
I located as many of my estate crew as possible in the crowd. “Thank you for coming,” I said to the gathered group.
My voice only wobbled a little.
Laurel dipped her head. The tension in my shoulders drained away at the smiles on those filling the dance floor. We were on the bottom floor of the building. The club extended for several levels, becoming more exclusive the higher you went. Or darker and more boring, in other words.
“Whatever clan you’ve come from tonight, welcome! Between you and me, my ears still can’t handle loud music. So tonight, for what may be the first clubbing night ever for some of you, I declare a silent disco.”
I gestured to the carts of headphones around the room. “Grab headphones and dance to your heart’s content. Take whatever you want from behind the bar. Drinks are on me tonight! And rest easy, there are no human staff in the building.”
I’d asked my club manager to purchase a pre-recorded set from a local DJ. For legal reasons, my three home chefs—each with a bartending license—were registered as working. The regular staff would begin next Thursday, and the club manager would usually be in residence instead of me. Though I’d pop in once a month or so.
We were a three-days-a-week nightclub. Quality not quantity.
Vissimo blurred to the headphones as I strolled to the bar, watching as they figured out just what silent disco meant. I grinned as they began to dance, blurring and twisting. The reporters outside would have no fucking idea why the club was so quiet.
I slid onto a stool, and Laurel, Josie, and Kelsea approached. They alone wore something other than black leather. They’d come in the dresses I gifted them when trying to catch the spy in the tower.
“Thank you for coming,” I repeated, unsure if we were cool.
“You were shitting yourself before you came in, admit it,” Kelsea said, nudging me.
I glanced behind. “Sure was. A white leotard was a terrible choice.”
Josie laughed, reaching for the tequila. “We’re even Stevens now. We could hear your heartbeat.”
I bet.
“We’re good then?” I fixed my eyes on Laurel.
She nodded. “Water under the bridge.”
Leaning forward, I hugged her tight. “Love you, Loz.”
The vampire froze in my embrace.
I released her and slithered over the bar like a whale mermaid—because the bar was fucking mine. I stared at the wall of alcohol. Where to start?
“Shots,” I murmured. “Not that they’ll work on you heavyweight fuckers.”
And the Indebted wouldn’t take anything unless I forced it into their hands.
Loading up trays, I waved over Jillian and Evie. “Hand these out, would ya?”
I passed the tray to Jillian, and snagged Evie’s hand, looking her directly in the eyes.
“I’m sorry, Evie. Really, I am. I consider you a friend, and that was a shitty thing to do to you.”
She shrugged a shoulder. “It was. And I’d do the same for any of my family if they were still alive. You’re forgiven.”
Pulling her into my arms, I kissed her cheek. “Thank you. I’m not sure I deserve you being so understanding, but I’ll never forget it.”
The pixie-faced blonde relaxed in my arms and squeezed me back. “I’ll go help Jillian pass out those shots.”
I handed trays to Kelsea and Josie, too, then lined liquor bottles along the bar in an attempt to make the vampires more comfortable taking them.
Grabbing the last tray, I set to work plying my guests with high-percentage alcohol they’d burn off quicker than I could disperse it. The sound of their dancing feet and laughter filled the space. Headphones on, their conversations were shouted, and I sniggered to myself.
I went back and forth with trays, squeezing between leather-cla
d bodies.
On my fourth return journey, the bar was emptied of the bottles I set out. Ha! That was more satisfying than Santa eating the fig and olive tapenade I used to put out on Christmas Eve.
Setting another twenty bottles on the bar, I glanced at Laurel as she approached the bar next to a dude double her size. Dude wasn’t the best term for him. He’d look more at home in a galley with a broad sword in his hands.
Hot damn. Was he in Laurel’s harem? She tended to go for the Viking type.
“Miss Le Spyre,” she said. Formal. “I’d like to introduce you to Vladymir. He holds my position amongst the Fyrlia Indebted.”
Their leader in other words.
Viking Vladymir extended his hand, and I felt a twinge of warmth. Huh. Consider me surprised my lady parts could twitch for anyone but Kyros. I couldn’t help it. This guy exuded promises of wild sex.
I cast a look at Laurel, who arched a brow.
She was totally into him.
“Nice to meet you, Vladymir. The Vissimo attending from Clan Fyrlia are welcome here.”
His grey-blue eyes gleamed. “So it’s true you don’t call us Indebted.”
I shrugged a shoulder. “You’re in debt. That’s not all you are. For most of you, it’s not even your debt. I hate when people treat me like a token rich brat. Whoever decided people should be stereotyped by our most insignificant quality was a fool.”
“I heard of your battle with Theodore Tonyi,” he said.
Stilling, I peered up at the massive fucker. “Not my favourite memory.”
“But an honourable one. You’re not without bravery, young one.”
I didn’t feel honourable. I didn’t feel brave.
Swallowing, I muttered, “Thanks. I’m just sorry you have to work for that psycho, Mikael. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”
He exchanged a look with Laurel. She arched a brow, and his lips twitched.
And what that was about, I had no clue.
“You’re not drinking?” I held up a shot to Laurel.
She shook her head. “None of your estate crew are. We need to uphold your safety.”
I grimaced. “Right. Yeah. I guess indulging in hard liquor wouldn’t go down well with Kyros.”
She gestured. “You’re not drinking?”
Things were too shit to drink right now. Which was ironic because that was usually my go-to when manure hit the fan. “Nah, I’ve got to work at the tower later. Is Vladymir in your harem?”
Oops.
That wasn’t the smooth conversation change I’d envisioned.
The Vissimo perused each other the same way I scanned abstract art—like they were trying to figure what the splashes meant and if it was art at all.
“We did discuss the possibility once,” the Viking eventually answered. “The issue being that we both like to be dominated.”
These conversations were miles above my pay grade.
I cleared my throat politely. “How lovely.”
Laurel threw me a grin. “We decided it wouldn’t work.”
“Yeah, but wouldn’t it be like a fight? Like a reverse fight? You’d both be goading each other to take control until one snapped.”
Blinking, I leaned back.
Jesus. When was the fifth exchange? I needed to get some.
The two vampires scanned each other anew.
Now that. That’s how I looked at strawberry mojitos.
“The children from our union would be strong,” he said in a low voice.
Laurel hummed. “The thought of goading you to dominate me appeals.”
He lowered his head. “It is not I who will lose control, skjaldmær. Your womb is mine.”
Fucking hell.
My phone buzzed. I read the message from Kyros.
Where are you and what are you doing?
Uhm, replying that I had front row seat to a Viking porno may not go down well.
I sent back a puppy GIF.
On second thought, that drink sounded really great.
I teetered around the bar on my stilettos. “Maybe I’ll just have one drink. I’m rich enough to drink strawberry mojitos again after all.” I stared at the Bacardi. “Shit, what other stuff goes in a mojito?”
Josie appeared to my left. “I used to bartend at clan functions. Got strawberries?” She didn’t wait for me to answer, opening the cupboards and drawers in a blur. “No strawberries, but I found passionfruit. Passionfruit mojito?”
I sighed dramatically. “Fine. But I’m texting the manager to get some damn strawberries for next week.”
Some people have no idea.
Vladymir and his testosterone were gone when I returned to my seat, passionfruit mojito in hand. “I’m surprised that guy doesn’t impregnate women and men just by standing within a five-metre radius. Can’t believe you haven’t tapped that. Let him pillage you, for god’s sake.”
Laurel’s lips trembled. “He heard you.”
I regretted nothing.
My phone buzzed again.
Tell me. You’re turned on
Blood heated my cheeks. Ugh, awkward much? I couldn’t help it. Waking up next to Kyros each day was hell on my libido. With our laughable control around each other, we had to be so careful of toeing the line.
If I was a rabbit, the world was dangling a carrot just out of reach. Except that carrot was the best sex of my life.
Thinking about naked you…
Send.
Probably shouldn’t have done that.
“I have dabbled with the idea for a few decades, but sexual compatibility is the most important factor in our relationships,” Laurel was saying.
“Try before you buy,” I told her sagely.
She shook her head, smiling. “Is that off Truth Ranges?”
“What? No. That’s advice my grandmother gave me on my eighteenth birthday.”
Laurel threw back her head and laughed.
I slurped on my drink and my eyes widened. “What in the name of the mighty cocktail gods is this?” Where was Josie? Probably didn’t matter. “Josie, this is amazing!”
A thumbs up appeared from the midst of the writhing bodies.
“I may be a convert,” I said in awe.
My phone buzzed, and I choked on my next sip, staring at the GIF from Kyros. A fucking carrot dangling in front of a rabbit.
That was… disturbing on a whole new level. He couldn’t read my mind, so it was just a freaky coincidence.
A really freaky coincidence.
“Thank you for giving this to them,” Laurel said, twisting on her stool.
Shaking off his message, I did the same, watching as Kelsea grabbed the waistband of a vampire who would have looked at home playing the drums for Queen.
If things went to plan, the Indebted could expect more experiences like this. Cruises, private island parties, gambling nights, musicals, and outside cinemas. My life was falling to pieces around me, but their lives had been chaos for decades and centuries. I’d give them as many first experiences—or happy memories—as I could.
“Despite what this turned into,” I said quietly, “you know I intended this night just for their happiness only. There are already more activities in the works.”
She glanced at me. “More?”
“Oh, yeah.” I grinned into my passionfruit elixir.
The vampire sighed, crossing her long legs. “You aren’t entirely to blame for how events unfolded. You were right with one of the observations made in your office.”
The part about Kyros going berserk if I died? “You did gloss over the consequences.”
“You don’t know who I was, do you?” she asked. “Before I was Indebted.”
I pulled a face. “Does it matter?”
She studied me for a long time. “Not usually. Not for a long time. In this instance, it explains the glossing. My mother and father were mates. Not true mates, but when they met, mating was still the mode, so they completed all seven exchanges, and even received two mating gifts.�
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“I’ve never heard of anyone else being mated,” I told her.
“Mostly only the very old or the poor do so now.” The vampire swallowed.
“Your mother was killed and your father went berserk?”
She cast me a surprised look. “Correct. He was a king—alpha—and old, so very powerful. His control couldn’t hold after her murder. It took three other kings to kill him. And I inherited his debt. The rest you know.”
Laurel was a princess. Or had been.
Her life was changed forever because her father lost control. Then I’d walked into Fyrlia territory and nearly triggered the same mindless rage in Kyros.
I rubbed my forehead. “Whenever I think I’ve grasped the depth of Kyros’s struggle to control his power, the reality hits me all over again.”
Maybe I really should apologise for putting Kyros in that position. And Safina. And his whole damn family.
“I need to apologise again for placing you guys in that situation,” I told her, lifting my gaze to hers. “It must have opened old wounds.”
The vampire nodded, her black hair slithering forward. “Yes. It also highlighted my weakness in letting painful memories dictate me in small ways after so long. I should have told you.”
I doubted a person could ever get over such a tragic end to their family. “Do you miss your parents, Loz?”
She shot me a look. “I do. They loved each other. Their people loved them.”
Tilting my head to the dancing Indebted, I said, “Much like your people love you.”
Blood welled in her eyes and she blinked rapidly.
“I hope the sick fuck who killed your mother got their reckoning,” I added.
“King Julius let me kill them.”
He had a heart in there somewhere, I knew it. He showed it half as regularly as Christmas, but it was in there.
Still didn’t like him.
Laurel leaned in as I slurped back some more tart, sweet, alcohol goodness.
“You understand Kyros’s power better now. Maybe you understand why some didn’t wish for your union though your combined blood sings. Kyros already rivals some kings for power now with another seventy years until he is fully matured. His power was even evident in the womb, I’ve been told.”
Death Game: Supernatural Battle (Vampire Towers Book 3) Page 8