by M F Adele
He grunted his reply as he ushered me through the ropes and glared at the people who dared to complain about me walking straight in. He tugged me through the club, the crowd parting as he neared. He didn’t stop until he escorted me right up to the VIP section where he passed me off to Jack, my personal VIP security, and also my very gay best friend.
The inside of the club was filled with warm light and comfortable white leather sofas, but I didn't pay any attention to it. I was ready to sit down and attempt to crack some jokes to ease my tension while Jack tried to keep a straight face at his post near my table. He handed me a wine list and winked at me before saying, “Wine or tequila tonight, you filthy skank, or maybe some water to rehydrate yourself after all the shots you had last night?” Then he really looked at me, you know, the way someone does when they know you too well. “You look like you’ve had a long fucking day,” he acknowledged.
“You have no idea, Jack,” I admitted to him. “Tell Courtney to bring me a bottle of the best tequila they’ve got in-house tonight, on ice, with a shot glass and a plate of sliced pineapple, please.”
I didn’t need to look at the menu. I already knew what I wanted. It was not going to be found on a list of expensive wines that I’d never been able to enjoy, much less taste the “smokey grapes” they claimed to use when making it.
I want to forget.
And enough tequila would do that for anyone.
Jack reached along his collar to hit a button attached to his ear piece while he whispered silently into it. Normally I’d tell him to stop ignoring me while he flipped through his porn playlist, because porn wasn’t fun to listen to. He’d shoot back with “no, it’s only fun to participate in.” We’d giggle about it, though in reality, Jack wasn’t joking. He wouldn’t watch porn. He only enjoyed making it.
But all I could think about was the short premonition I had on the way here. I wondered, briefly, if I should tell Jack about Taylor Caplin being a potentially new stalker. He did sit outside of CBP property until I left, and then he followed us halfway home before Franklin decided it was a good time to lose him. Franklin knew better than to mention the issue while I was on the phone with my Dad. Charles would’ve sent for Taylor’s head.
Jack saw me staring off into space and raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at me. He was waiting for me to be snarky, and he knew his eyebrows really pissed me off. They were always so fucking perfect. I rolled my eyes at myself, or him. I’m not even sure which of us is annoying me more. We could both see that I wasn’t in the mood tonight. I decided to gloss over the Caplin issue for now, but I did have to tell him that I was expecting a visitor at some point tonight.
Jack was a horse shifter, sort of. Well, kind of. We called him a horse shifter anyway. He looked every bit of it by his size too. He was bulky in his human form. All tanned muscle and dark hair with nearly black irises that always looked like he was whispering “fuck me” to anyone he was looking at.
His shifted form was a beautiful, solid black stead, darker than pitch. His flame colored eyes and the hellfire trailing in his wake let everyone know that he was all demon if they ever saw him. Most didn’t live to tell anyone what they witnessed. He was a demon myth, and we liked to keep it that way.
I’d ridden Jack bareback a few times. He refused to let me put a saddle on him though. I pouted every single time. Riding bareback made my thighs sweaty, and I hated it. Uhm, not ridden in a dirty way, though I suppose that point is moot.
I guess I should’ve revised the way I talked about trying to get over my phobia of horses. The animals were beautiful but they used to terrify me. Jack stood at a brag-worthy 20 hands or so and thought he could help. Whatever that meant. He didn’t help. I didn’t enjoy lessons with Jack but I did enjoy Jack’s company when he was not an ass, err, horse. You know what I mean. When he’s not an ass or a horse.
“Jack,” I called out quietly for him, and he immediately strode to me, bending over so I could speak to him without the other people in the VIP section hearing us. “I’m expecting company tonight, a well built man, but I couldn’t get a glimpse of his face.”
There was no need to explain anything else, because Jack knew me and the gifts I possessed. Most of them anyway. I didn’t even know them all. My powers were constantly evolving and growing. He raised both of those perfectly arched eyebrows and replied with a whispered “hit me,” which meant he wanted me to show him what I saw.
I slid the vision in his mind carefully. If I sent images too fast to someone I didn’t have a connection with it could cause a great deal of pain. Even though Jack and I had maintained a mental connection since we were kids I still liked to be cautious. He nodded his head in a way that told me he’d keep his eyes open for the mystery man. He turned his back to me while reclaiming his original position at the far edge of my half-circle booth.
The white leather seating in the VIP section matched the rest of the sitting areas and barstools in the club. The tabletops were all glossy and black, and so shiny you could almost see your reflection in them. The flooring throughout the club was a Brazilian cherry with an ebony stain on top, and in the dim overhead lighting it looked black.
There was a red carpet runner that led down the aisle of the VIP section. It began at the bottom stair and ran all the way to the opening of the booth I always occupied. I was far enough back to be left alone, but close enough that the people who didn’t have VIP access could see who was up here. There were several sets of large, rectangular booths on the left hand side against the wall. They were all occupied tonight, but one look at Jack as they tried to approach me had them scurrying the opposite way.
Courtney appeared a few moments after Jack and I ended our chat with the things I had requested and a sealed envelope from my father, Nathaniel. She popped the top on the chilled liquor and poured me the first shot with a smile on her baby-like face. “Sloooooane,” she practically slurred at me, “That dress looks fucking amazing on you! Everyone in the club stopped what they were doing to watch you walk by.”
“Thanks” I replied clipped, though I didn’t mean for it to sound that way. She had no idea what those people thought about as they stared at me. She was human, and full of pure thoughts. Pure-ish thoughts. The woman’s mind was actually pretty perverted for a human. She didn’t constantly think of power, control, or murder though, so the word “pure” worked well enough.
I spent the next two hours drinking and being eye fucked by the people brave enough to look my way. I was trying not to get drunk, even though I’d need more than the one bottle I had ordered to achieve true inebriation. Or the blackout level that I really sought tonight. I still caught a good buzz off the bottle I made myself slowly finish. I asked Jack for a glass of water, and then the male really looked worriedly at me. I rolled my eyes at him and he raised that fucking eyebrow at me again. That. Perfect. Fucking. Eyebrow.
Throwing his shouted thoughts straight into my head while his back remained turned to me, he asked “Are you feeling okay? It’s one am and you want water? Fucking water, Lo! Are you sick? Or just trying to stay sober to meet the mystery man.” He snickered at me as he continued his lecture. “And, I heard that. I’ll do your eyebrows next time instead of you going to see that raggedy, old bitch who's been doing them. Oh, wait. That’s you!” He twisted his head to wink at me. That asshole.
“I’m fine.” I stated out loud. “I think I want to go upstairs and play a game of pool in Dad’s office. I’m going home before we close.”
I stood as Jack offered his hand to me. With my hand tucked securely in the crook of his arm, we made our way down the red carpet getting gawked at like we’re celebrities. I hated the attention. Just seven more steps. Nearly there. Instead of turning right to head down the VIP stairs, we turned left to go to the door that led upstairs to the offices. That weird pull that never stopped was so strong that I stopped dead in my tracks three steps from the door. Urging myself to turn around, I stole a small breath and angled my head to peek over my sh
oulder.
Staring at me with a smirk on his face was the male I met at CBP earlier today. It wasn’t a man I was seeing in my premonition at all. He looked completely different than he did at work. His dark brown hair was pushed back to the right and I didn’t think I’d ever seen softer looking waves. I want to run my hands through those fat curls and pull his hair while he... yeah. His eyes were a tantalizing icy blue color, so light that they were almost white, and they danced with amusement. I’d really like to see them lit up with desire as I drop to my knees an- Focus!
His cheeks were a little flushed, like he’d been drinking for about as long as I had. In his hands were two shot glasses and a bottle of my favorite tequila. My eyes tracked over him like he was a gift from the gods, but I knew he wasn’t. This male was trouble. The good kind, but trouble nonetheless.
Jack stood in front of me, and I had to put my hand on his shoulder and squeeze to get his attention. He side-eyed me, nodded sharply, and opened the velvet rope at the top of the stairs.
“Mr. Winter, please come in.” Jack welcomed him with a sly smile.
Sloane
Friday Night
I guess he got my text about the handsome male fae I met this afternoon. “Thanks for replying to my text.” I snarked at him in my head.
That mother fucker just winked at me again and tossed back, “I saw all those naughty thoughts roll across your mind while you were looking at him with your hand on my shoulder. You really are a filthy bitch. I fucking love you, but I’m semi hard right now and it’s all your fault.”
“I’m going to kick your ass tomorrow and I hope you know it!” I shouted at him while also trying to keep my facial expressions from looking like I’m screaming in my head. It’s hard work.
“Ms. King.” Vaughn’s low rumble was so delicious it had me thanking the gods that I decided to wear panties tonight. “You looked rather bored.” He shrugged a muscled shoulder and smiled at me with a coyness that would have those panties I was so happy about melting right off my overheating body.
I had to open my mind to see what he was thinking. I didn’t want pity. I got paid to sit there and look pretty, and bored apparently. I tilted my head to the left in confusion though. I couldn’t hear this male’s thoughts. I thought that might be a first for me. Or second, but again, I’m not fucking going there.
Intrigued, I motioned the male to my booth. Seating himself across from me, we eyed each other for a moment before he popped the bottle open and poured two shots. I offered him my plate of pineapple, watching the confusion cross his chiseled features as he raised a questioning eyebrow at me.
“It’s better than lime as a chaser.” I explained simply.
He passed me a shot, we clinked the glasses together and threw them back at the same time. He made a disgusted face before biting into his pineapple slice. “That’s not bad,” he agreed after swallowing. His comment made me chuckle.
“Did I interrupt you leaving when I walked up?” He asked a little shyly after our shot. Maybe it had just occurred to him that I was on my way out and might not want any company. I definitely want the company if it’s him though. Jack groaned in my head and I forced our connection closed so fast that it felt like slamming a car door shut. Fuck my life right now. Jack was going to snoop around in what was left of my love life after hearing everything I just thought. Uhm, loveless life? Whatever, you know what I mean. He happened to be a nosy jackass.
“Actually, I was bored,” I replied with a small smile of my own. “I was going to go upstairs for a game of pool. Do you play?”
“There are pool tables in such an upscale nightclub?” He inquired, drawing his brows down, a little bewildered and a little sarcastic. That made me laugh, a real genuine laugh. He had no idea what secrets this club held.
“Come on,” I encouraged him. Standing and grabbing his hand, I began to pull him along with me. Jack quirked his stupid eyebrow at me again as we walked towards him hand in hand. He opened the door that led to the stairs and mouthed “yes, bitch” when I passed him. He followed quietly behind us, up the stairs and to the large game room across from my father’s office.
Once we were inside Jack closed the door but remained on the outside. I heard him in my mind the moment the door clicked closed, “If you don’t fuck him on that pool table then I totally will, bitch. Grim would be all over him too. He’s got a thing for fae. He says they’re pretty.” He made a humming noise and shoved filthy images in my mind. The first image is Vaughn and me, one I pictured myself, and then they quickly morph into scenes of Jack, Grim, and Vaughn. I shut him out completely, locking that connection up like Fort Knox. He’s such an ass sometimes!
Vaughn was standing at the rack that held the cue sticks. He twisted them and ran his dexterous fingers along them all before he went back and selected the sixth cue. He knelt at the end of the table and started racking the balls while I opened a cabinet on the wall and pulled out my own personal favorite. Jack’s dirty images flickered in the back of my mind when I saw him start shuffling the balls around. I almost groaned out loud. Fucking Jack. I hate him so hard right now.
“There were more?” He questioned, looking around like he missed a rack somewhere.
“Nope, this one is mine,” I assured him as I started twisting together the black cue. “I play my father when he’s in town. He always wins, but I’ll beat him eventually.”
“Your father owns this club?” He lifted a curious eyebrow at me. For fuck’s sake. If another male quirks an eyebrow at me tonight...
“Yes, I run it for him while he’s out of town.” I needed to get out of my head before I said something I couldn’t take back.
“He owns a club and a pharmaceutical company?” He thought his questions aloud. Then he quickly recovered with, “Those don’t necessarily go together, but I see how a businessman, or woman, can run both.”
He motioned for me to break. I leaned low over the table. A little lower than necessary, if I’m being honest. I lined up my shot as I mentally scolded myself. The male was hot and I needed to get my hormones under control before I did something stupid. Do something stupid! Okay, now I’m just arguing with myself, which is insane. Focus bitch! I hit the cue ball effortlessly, and as all the balls scattered, the ten ball hit the top right corner pocket. “Big balls,” I called out as I circled the table once more.
“I’m sorry?” He sounded so bemused, and I suddenly remembered his earlier question. I hoped that he didn’t think that was my response. Though, I guess it could be. Takes big lady balls to do some of the shit I do.
“Stripes. I meant I had stripes. You’ve never heard anyone say that before? Little balls for solids and big balls for stripes?” I continued circling as I rambled to him. I knocked three more in before I finally missed my mark. “Damn, that was the easiest shot I had.” I couldn’t help the small pout that graced my lips. I was doing so well until I looked up to see him worrying that plump lower lip between his teeth. I really want to be the one biting that lip.
“Yeah, but you left me with nothing.” He grinned and shook his head, taking his time to circle the table counterclockwise. “And, no, I’ve never heard that before. The guys always say solids or stripes, but the next time we play I’m definitely calling someone little balls.” He chuckled to himself and my mind flew off in a tangent of ball sizes. Shit. There I go again.
“I’m sure the face of little balls is going to love it,” I sassed back with a smirk. It did sound kind of funny. Jack and Grim always argued over their balls when I said it. It always made me laugh, until they needed a judge, and then I was gone. “To answer your previous question; my Dad, Charles, bought CBP. My Father, Nathaniel, owns a few nightclubs, bars and dungeons along the eastern seaboard. And my Papi, Samuel, is the headmaster at a boarding school for demons.” I spilled all that before I caught myself. Small talk with Vaughn was easy. Too easy. It would be best to keep to the lighter subjects. My life was confusing and complicated. I didn’t want to talk about deep shit
with someone I just met.
I also didn’t want to talk about work. Thankfully he seemed to be on the same page as me.
The next three hours passed us by in a blur of good-natured banter, jokes, and laughing. I honestly thought he let me win the game of pool we played, but not at darts. He had perfect aim. I watched his muscles bunch across his shoulder and upper arm through his thin t-shirt with each dart he released, mesmerized by the fluid movement.
We ran through topics like we’d known each other for years. The longer I was near him the stronger I felt that odd pull. I almost asked him if he felt it too. Three times. I almost worked up the nerve to ask him three different times. Lighter subjects. Stick to the lighter subjects.
“What’s your favorite color?” I asked as we sat down to take a break on the oversized black leather couch in the game room.
“Mmm, Blue. Like the color of the sky on a cloudless day. You?”
“Black,” I grinned. “Like… black.”
“What’s your favorite type of candy?” He returned my question with another.
I tapped my lips with my index finger as I thought about candy for a moment. I didn’t eat much of it, but when I did it was always the same thing. “Cherry Jolly Ranchers or Skittles, but only the red and purple ones.”
“Sour Patch Kids. All the flavors.”
“Favorite season?”
Vaughn flashed that coy melt your panties off smile again. “Winter.” The low quality of his voice had been doing a number on my hormones. I could die a happy woman if he whispered in my ear while bending me over the arm of this couch.
“I like them all for one reason or another, but I think spring is my favorite,” I blurted out before I let my imagination run rampant. Again.
He tilted his head to the side and watched me while he thought of his next question. His heavy lidded eyes skimmed my body in a trail that I wished his hands would follow through with. The slight curl of the right side of his mouth exposed a dimple that I’d love to brush my lips over. “Tell me a drunk story.”