With a wicked smile, Augustine snaps his fingers. A minute later, club servants have provided a seat and handed over Augustine’s submissive. He shifts her in his arms, almost tenderly arranging her limp body as I watch. My fists clench as Augustine’s fingers spear the auburn hair, tugging the woman’s head back to bare her neck. Without ceremony or gentleness, he strikes like a viper, burying his fangs in her neck. Her body convulses but the blissed out look on her face turns to ecstasy.
Fuck this. I pivot and head back to the throne in the center of the room.
“We can make them like it, you know,” Frangelico says. He’s holding a goblet filled with a red liquid. A nice show, but it’s just wine.
A gasp makes me turn again. The redhead thrashes in her vampire master’s arms, ecstasy turning to anguish. Augustine shoots me a nasty look. He’s making it hurt on purpose. The redhead’s hands beat at his suit. Her blood stains her pale skin, his shirt collar. He’s making a mess.
Her cries sharpen, growing frantic.
“Leave her alone,” I growl.
“Augustine,” Frangelico calls softly before I can stomp back over there. The younger vampire turns with a snarl, but lowers his eyes. “Enough,” orders the king, and Augustine bows his head and motions to a club employee to take her away.
“You can’t save them all from my sired’s sadism,” Frangelico murmurs as I watch the redhead disappear behind a curtain of a private alcove. She’s safe now. For the next hour, she’ll be wrapped in a blanket, given orange juice and chocolate and whatever else she needs to come safely down. For a moment, I toy with the idea of shoving aside the curtain, kicking out the club employee, and caring for her myself. I reject the thought as soon as it surfaces. The redhead is cute, but she’s none of my business.
My bear bellows in protest.
When I turn back, the vampire king is watching me closely. I shake my head. “Not gonna save them. Like you said, they like it.”
The king regards me over steepled fingers. “This club caters to all sorts of desires. Some desire pleasure mixed with pain. We have a word for them. Sweetbloods.”
“Yeah, I know.” The vampires love masochists. The pain releases endorphins that make the blood taste sweeter, or some shit. I’m about to tell Frangelico where he can shove his sadism, when a new scent hits my nose. Wolf.
“Frangelico,” a female voice calls. A leather clad she-wolf strides forward, followed by a huge wolf with a pierced eyebrow. Sheridan and Trey. I give Trey my full attention. He and I don’t get along. I used to be a bouncer at his Fight Club but when he found out I also work here, things went sour. Fast.
As soon as Trey sees me, he shows his teeth. His woman puts a hand on his arm and mutters, “Behave.”
“Ah, my dear Sheridan,” Frangelico purrs. “How nice of you to come with your wolf guard.”
“My mate,” she corrects. Her hand automatically goes to her shoulder, covering where he must have marked her. Shit, she and Trey are mated? I open my mouth to congratulate them. Trey glares at me. After what I did, he won’t accept anything from me. I close my mouth.
“What brings you to our little club?” Frangelico asks. “Business or pleasure?”
“Business,” Sheridan answers, though she casts a longing look about the club. I don’t get the attraction of this place, but it’s none of my business.
“Come then,” Frangelico motions for more chairs to be brought close. Waiters appear and offer drinks.
“We’re here because we’ve heard rumors. Shifters are disappearing from this area.”
“Wolves?”
“Not wolves. Other types of shifters. Ones that don’t have the protection of a pack.”
“What sort of shifters might those be? Forgive me, I am not as well versed in the animal kingdom as I should be,” Frangelico says. He’s lying, of course. He makes it his business to know everything.
Sheridan swallows and glances at Trey, who nods at her. “A few loner cats who didn’t have a clan. Leopard, tiger. But also rarer shifters-owls, ravens, eagles.”
“Really? There are shifter birds?” Frangelico bluffs really well. Not even I can smell anything but his interest.
Sheridan nods. “They keep quiet because they’re not as plentiful as wolves or big cats. That, and they’re prey animals.”
“And someone is kidnapping them? Didn’t that happen before, when a company was capturing shifters to experiment on?”
“That company is gone. We destroyed their facilities, rooted out the people who were doing it. But there’s still a black market for kidnapped shifters, and we think the shifter traders have found new customers. Vampires.”
Frangelico’s long fingers steeple. He doesn’t move when Sheridan drops this bombshell. Instead, he waits a moment as if making sure she’s finished talking, then stirs. “And what would vampires want with kidnapped shifters?”
“We don’t know. That’s why we’re here.” Before Sheridan can continue, her mate steps forward, tall, tattooed, and intimidating.
“It would be wise for you to look into it, unless you want the pack knocking on your door,” Trey says. Sheridan grabs his arm again.
“What my mate means,” she says with a fixed smile, “is that given the Tucson pack’s alliance with you and your vampires, it would be wise to join forces to look into the shifter disappearances. For the sake of keeping the peace.”
“Indeed.” Frangelico flicks a glance at Trey, then turns back to Sheridan. “You do have a flair for diplomacy, my dear,” Frangelico tells her.
“Thank you,” she answers levelly. “But I’m not your dear.”
Frangelico ignores her growl. “We will look into it.” He glances at me. I nod back. By we the king means me. And I’m okay with hunting down vampires who have bought kidnapped shifters. I know just where I’ll start-Augustine and his little redheaded sub.
“That’s settled,” Frangelico announces. “Now that your business is concluded you are welcome to make use of my club. Will you stay and scene tonight?”
Sheridan hesitates, her gaze darting around the dimly lit club with poorly hidden interest.