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Time to go get rid of that body.
A couple of blocks away, in Bathe’s VIP section, Bitty was hitting the proverbial wall. It wasn’t that the people around her weren’t fun. They were laughing and enjoying themselves, for sure. And it wasn’t that she felt unsafe. She was surrounded by other vampires, many of whom had been trained by the Brotherhood to fight. And it wasn’t that she minded the music or the presence of humans or the attention her dress was getting her.
Well, she was a little tired of hem maintenance.
But she was ready to leave. She didn’t hate the club scene; it just wasn’t her—and she had to admit that Nalla might have a point. Goingout just to not be home wasn’t much better than staying home to avoid going out.
A cup of coffee would have been better.
“Lyric,” she said. “I think I’m going to go.”
The female turned away from the guy she was talking to, her beautiful silver dress shimmering as her body moved. “But you just got here.”
“It’s been an hour.”
“That’s no time at all.”
“I have to go to bed early today. I’m working a double tomorrow night.”
That wasn’t exactly true. She was going to volunteer for a double so that she had an excuse in case anybody asked her to do something.
“Well, I’msoglad you came.”
Lyric threw her arms around Bitty, and the hug was so genuine, so not a social performance, that there was shy happiness in the way her presence was accepted by one of the “in-crowd.” And yes, that was kinda high school–ish, but the fact was, Shuli, Rhamp, and Lyric were a trio people gravitated to and revolved around.
“You’ll come again, right?” Lyric asked.
The hopeful expression was kind of inexplicable, but Bitty found herself nodding and feeling optimistic. It wasn’t always the club that they all went to. The group did movie nights and pancake marathons, mountain climbing and house parties. She would like to be a part of all that. Or some of that.
Or at least have the option to go to a few things.
“I would love to.”
“Great.”
There was another hug, and that started a rush of embraces—except for Shuli’s six-pack worth of rat pack, as he called them. Those aristocratic males hung back, even as she clinched up with everybody else. Well, almost everyone.
L.W. was where he’d been the whole time, still in that lean-backsprawl with those hooded eyes missing nothing even though he’d been drinking all along.
“You’ll want to go out the rear,” Lyric said, pointing to the fire door. “That alley is really quiet so you’ll be able to dematerialize easily. Rhamp, take her out so she’s safe.”
“Yup, absolutely.” The female’s brother put his martini down. “Come on, Bitty, I gotchu.”
Rhamp did up the button on his slick suit jacket, slipped a friendly arm around her shoulders, and walked her up the steps and around the sitting area. Just as they came to the exit, one of his boys called his name.
“Wait here a sec,” he said as he started to go back.
At that moment, the music changed beat, and it was like someone in the sound booth had turned the volume up. When her stomach rolled and she felt a little dizzy, she punched the bar on the steel panel and—
“Oh, thank God,” she murmured as she went out into the cold and took a deep breath.
The door slammed shut behind her and she released an exhale as if she were a smoker making rings. Her overheated skin basked in the temperature drop, and the wonky feeling dissipated, too. With her relief hitting, she was glad she’d taken a chance, on the dress and the club—
Behind her, the door reopened, the music and laughter flaring, a waft of heat warming her back like a hearth set with a fire.
“Thanks, Rhamp,” she said. “I’ll just head—”
The scent registered first. And then a deep voice rumbled, “Not Rhamp.”
