looked much too earnest. “I think I’ll pass. If the Fellowship can’t keep me hidden, I don’t think anything would.”
He stared at the mass of dancers on the ground floor, their hands waving in the air, reminding me of sea anemones, colorful and beautiful. “I think I’m hungry.”
Of course. That was one of the biggest reasons why we were here after all. Consensual feeding seemed to be the norm, or at least none of the staff thought to stop the various couples hidden here and there, buried in on themselves. Bile rose in the back of my throat as I thought about the blood that would flow down Jason’s throat.
Better anyone else than me. “Do you need my help?”
He grinned and for a moment, I saw the face of the skater punk from so very long ago. “Shouldn’t think so.”
“Well, in any case, I can’t just stand here.”
“Can’t you?” he asked, sounding terribly amused.
What was I supposed to say? “I don’t…”
He stood up, pushed the hair behind his ears and adjusted his shirt cuffs. “Standing here, or in my case, sitting here is hardly going to fix or change anything. You can stay here and watch me feed, or you can go down and get yourself a drink or something.” He laughed. “Perhaps they’ll have some juice.”
The way he said the last sentence made me feel like a child. But I was thirsty and all the expensive alcohol on the table less than a foot away was as useful to me as a bucket of sand in a desert.
I followed him down the stairs and stood at the very edge of the massive dance floor, watched Jason look at the mass of writhing, sweating bodies with a predatory gleam in his eyes.
“I’m off.” He slipped into the crowd as graceful and deadly as a hawk homing in on its prey and while I was good at finding, it would take more than I had to track him through the hundreds of people on the dance floor.
If I wanted to.
Which I didn’t.
The long, metallic bar with seven bartenders, all of them dressed professionally in black vests over white button-down shirts and black pants, stretched along one side of the wall and I made my way to the bar, managing to snag a seat in the very middle. A giggly, very drunk blond was on my right and a quiet, also very drunk redhead was on my left, both of them looking as though they would not be leaving the club under their own power.
I held up a hand and a bartender, dapper with a small goatee, nodded in my direction.
“What can I get for ya?”
“Cranberry juice, if you’ve got any.”
The giggly, drunk blond laughed shrilly upon hearing my order, but I ignored her. Taking action against her in the state she was in, was pointless and moot.
The bartender slapped a glass on the counter and poured me a tall one. “No problema. Will that be all for ya, chica ?”
Chica? What was that supposed to mean? “Um. Yes. That’s all.”
Drink paid for, I turned in my seat, cold glass in one hand, all the while acutely aware of the leather wrist sheathe riding comfortably over my wrist bone, almost like a cherished bracelet.
I couldn’t kill a vampire with the small dagger, but I could hurt them enough to make them think twice about attacking me again.
And in most cases, that was seventy-five percent of the battle.
If I was under the impression that I could possibly spot Jason in the middle of at least three hundred people, I was sorely disillusioned.
Three hundred people.
Three hundred.
The bottom dropped out of my stomach and I put the glass down on the counter, hard enough to cause a wash of crimson to splash over the rim and onto my right hand.
Shit.
That’s twice in three days I left Jason alone.
Never mind he was taught by a vampire who could teach me more than a thing or two.
Never mind he was, by all accounts, my master.
He was still my responsibility and if he died on me now, I’d never get close to Noir, not with Vincent keeping such a close eye on me.
The DJ spun something new, something loud with lots of hard,
He stared at the mass of dancers on the ground floor, their hands waving in the air, reminding me of sea anemones, colorful and beautiful. “I think I’m hungry.”
Of course. That was one of the biggest reasons why we were here after all. Consensual feeding seemed to be the norm, or at least none of the staff thought to stop the various couples hidden here and there, buried in on themselves. Bile rose in the back of my throat as I thought about the blood that would flow down Jason’s throat.
Better anyone else than me. “Do you need my help?”
He grinned and for a moment, I saw the face of the skater punk from so very long ago. “Shouldn’t think so.”
“Well, in any case, I can’t just stand here.”
“Can’t you?” he asked, sounding terribly amused.
What was I supposed to say? “I don’t…”
He stood up, pushed the hair behind his ears and adjusted his shirt cuffs. “Standing here, or in my case, sitting here is hardly going to fix or change anything. You can stay here and watch me feed, or you can go down and get yourself a drink or something.” He laughed. “Perhaps they’ll have some juice.”
The way he said the last sentence made me feel like a child. But I was thirsty and all the expensive alcohol on the table less than a foot away was as useful to me as a bucket of sand in a desert.
I followed him down the stairs and stood at the very edge of the massive dance floor, watched Jason look at the mass of writhing, sweating bodies with a predatory gleam in his eyes.
“I’m off.” He slipped into the crowd as graceful and deadly as a hawk homing in on its prey and while I was good at finding, it would take more than I had to track him through the hundreds of people on the dance floor.
If I wanted to.
Which I didn’t.
The long, metallic bar with seven bartenders, all of them dressed professionally in black vests over white button-down shirts and black pants, stretched along one side of the wall and I made my way to the bar, managing to snag a seat in the very middle. A giggly, very drunk blond was on my right and a quiet, also very drunk redhead was on my left, both of them looking as though they would not be leaving the club under their own power.
I held up a hand and a bartender, dapper with a small goatee, nodded in my direction.
“What can I get for ya?”
“Cranberry juice, if you’ve got any.”
The giggly, drunk blond laughed shrilly upon hearing my order, but I ignored her. Taking action against her in the state she was in, was pointless and moot.
The bartender slapped a glass on the counter and poured me a tall one. “No problema. Will that be all for ya, chica ?”
Chica? What was that supposed to mean? “Um. Yes. That’s all.”
Drink paid for, I turned in my seat, cold glass in one hand, all the while acutely aware of the leather wrist sheathe riding comfortably over my wrist bone, almost like a cherished bracelet.
I couldn’t kill a vampire with the small dagger, but I could hurt them enough to make them think twice about attacking me again.
And in most cases, that was seventy-five percent of the battle.
If I was under the impression that I could possibly spot Jason in the middle of at least three hundred people, I was sorely disillusioned.
Three hundred people.
Three hundred.
The bottom dropped out of my stomach and I put the glass down on the counter, hard enough to cause a wash of crimson to splash over the rim and onto my right hand.
Shit.
That’s twice in three days I left Jason alone.
Never mind he was taught by a vampire who could teach me more than a thing or two.
Never mind he was, by all accounts, my master.
He was still my responsibility and if he died on me now, I’d never get close to Noir, not with Vincent keeping such a close eye on me.
The DJ spun something new, something loud with lots of hard,
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