panties. I twisted to the side and bent my knees, narrowly avoiding being finger-banged by the eager punk.
The scene was progressing badly. I was starting to think I was losing my touch, but then Sonny abruptly pulled back. I saw a flash of fang, before he turned away from me altogether. He was trying to hide the fact that he was a vampire. Probably a bombshell he wanted to spring on me once he got me alone, a more vulnerable victim, at his place. He wasn’t the only one with surprises.
“Let’s go, then,” he said, leading me roughly by the arm to the front door. “You head straight for the bar over there and stay put, chicky. Talk to no one. I’ll come and get you soon.”
Then I was practically shoved inside, the door swishing shut behind me.
Chapter Eleven
M y slutty subterfuge had worked; I was in. I felt like I’d been thrown to the wolves, the way Sonny had carelessly bulldozed me inside the bar. But who cared? Mission accomplished.
As I walked across the room, three bikers brushed past me, and a cold chill skittered down my back, a clear signal that they were vampires. I glanced at the patches sewn to their jackets: Bones , Rival , and Saw Dog . Those names were as silly as Solo’s, but not the name I was looking for.
I continued walking, until I reached the bar. There weren’t many empty stools available for me to sit on, so I chose to park it next to a medium-built dark-haired man at the far end of the L-shaped bar.
There were a few high-top tables scattered about the room for customers to set their drinks upon, but that was it for furnishings, other than the pool tables, tucked away in a back alcove.
The man I’d decided to sit next to was hunched over, with his face turned away. As I sat, I noticed his leather jacket, which matched the jackets and vests being worn by the other brutal men in the room, all of which prominently displayed the same club patches. The name over that vampire’s chest read, Carl . Just plain ol’ Carl.
The person to my right, a woman in her 30s, was wearing a blue jean mini-skirt and a tight leather vest—no patches. I didn’t know why the missing patches stuck out to me, other than the fact that none of the women in the bar wore any. The woman looked bored, twirling a finger over the opening of her beer bottle. Her curly blonde hair was cut short, leaving a clear view of her neck. I immediately noticed the fang marks there. Some were fresh, and several others were scabbed over or old jagged white scars. There was a fresh bite at the side of her mouth, which caused her bottom lip to swell.
Anyone who was left in the dark about vampires would chalk the cuts and bruises up to domestic violence or maybe even a car accident. But I knew the marks for what they were. She was a vampire’s personal snack pack.
I felt my stomach roll with disgust, as I shook my head. It always came down to that blood-sucking lot. With their lusts and hunger unparalleled, their capacity for cruelty was amplified by extreme strength and, in some cases, centuries of knowledge. Immortals were a big pain in my ass.
It didn’t take long for Carl to take notice of me. He signaled the bartender over with a nod of his head.
“I need a drink for the pretty lady and another double for me.”
He pointed to his empty highball glass, but he had yet to look directly at me.
I hid a smirk and kept looking straight ahead of me, where I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror that hung behind the bar. It was faint, but I could see a red glow at the rim of my irises. A pair of special-issue contacts, which Rush had given to me a week prior, was hiding the more prominent glow that would alert my current suitor, and all the vampires in the room, to the fact that I was not only a necromancer, but also a Creator. I could probably take down two, maybe three, of the vampires if they decided to attack and kidnap me because of my unique gifts, but no more than that. Considering there were upwards of 20 of
The scene was progressing badly. I was starting to think I was losing my touch, but then Sonny abruptly pulled back. I saw a flash of fang, before he turned away from me altogether. He was trying to hide the fact that he was a vampire. Probably a bombshell he wanted to spring on me once he got me alone, a more vulnerable victim, at his place. He wasn’t the only one with surprises.
“Let’s go, then,” he said, leading me roughly by the arm to the front door. “You head straight for the bar over there and stay put, chicky. Talk to no one. I’ll come and get you soon.”
Then I was practically shoved inside, the door swishing shut behind me.
Chapter Eleven
M y slutty subterfuge had worked; I was in. I felt like I’d been thrown to the wolves, the way Sonny had carelessly bulldozed me inside the bar. But who cared? Mission accomplished.
As I walked across the room, three bikers brushed past me, and a cold chill skittered down my back, a clear signal that they were vampires. I glanced at the patches sewn to their jackets: Bones , Rival , and Saw Dog . Those names were as silly as Solo’s, but not the name I was looking for.
I continued walking, until I reached the bar. There weren’t many empty stools available for me to sit on, so I chose to park it next to a medium-built dark-haired man at the far end of the L-shaped bar.
There were a few high-top tables scattered about the room for customers to set their drinks upon, but that was it for furnishings, other than the pool tables, tucked away in a back alcove.
The man I’d decided to sit next to was hunched over, with his face turned away. As I sat, I noticed his leather jacket, which matched the jackets and vests being worn by the other brutal men in the room, all of which prominently displayed the same club patches. The name over that vampire’s chest read, Carl . Just plain ol’ Carl.
The person to my right, a woman in her 30s, was wearing a blue jean mini-skirt and a tight leather vest—no patches. I didn’t know why the missing patches stuck out to me, other than the fact that none of the women in the bar wore any. The woman looked bored, twirling a finger over the opening of her beer bottle. Her curly blonde hair was cut short, leaving a clear view of her neck. I immediately noticed the fang marks there. Some were fresh, and several others were scabbed over or old jagged white scars. There was a fresh bite at the side of her mouth, which caused her bottom lip to swell.
Anyone who was left in the dark about vampires would chalk the cuts and bruises up to domestic violence or maybe even a car accident. But I knew the marks for what they were. She was a vampire’s personal snack pack.
I felt my stomach roll with disgust, as I shook my head. It always came down to that blood-sucking lot. With their lusts and hunger unparalleled, their capacity for cruelty was amplified by extreme strength and, in some cases, centuries of knowledge. Immortals were a big pain in my ass.
It didn’t take long for Carl to take notice of me. He signaled the bartender over with a nod of his head.
“I need a drink for the pretty lady and another double for me.”
He pointed to his empty highball glass, but he had yet to look directly at me.
I hid a smirk and kept looking straight ahead of me, where I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror that hung behind the bar. It was faint, but I could see a red glow at the rim of my irises. A pair of special-issue contacts, which Rush had given to me a week prior, was hiding the more prominent glow that would alert my current suitor, and all the vampires in the room, to the fact that I was not only a necromancer, but also a Creator. I could probably take down two, maybe three, of the vampires if they decided to attack and kidnap me because of my unique gifts, but no more than that. Considering there were upwards of 20 of
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