I wet my lips with my tongue, the tip darting out to moisten them as a flush crept up my neck, spreading across my cheeks like wildfire. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, a primal rhythm that matched the pulsing bass of the music. My bloodracedthrough my veins, every cell in my body alive and tingling with desire. I wanted to taste the salty heat of him, run my hands over those chiseled muscles, and feel the power rippling beneath his skin. Wanted to feel that power command me. The urge was so overwhelming, it made me shift restlessly in my seat as I imagined what it would be like to be the woman in that chair, to have those sinful hips rolling againstme.
He grinned out at the audience of enviable women, and then suddenly, his eyes flashed up to mine again and held. With a quick tilt of his head, he gestured toward the back of the club. All eyes swung toward me, and I sensed more than the usual amount of menace I normally felt from other women as those eyes narrowed with envy.
Following his direction, I saw a black curtain hiding the entrance to another room. A sign hung on the wall that read, "Private dances only."
When I looked back, his attention was once again on the woman in the chair, and I wondered if I'd imagined the whole thing. But a few minutes later, as he helped the overheated woman off the stage, then kneeled, linking his fingers behind his head to collect the tips the crowd eagerly tucked into his G-string, he glanced up at me, eyebrows lifting in question. Or was it a challenge?
I hadn't imagined it. And I was tempted. Oh, was I tempted. The air in the club suddenly felt thick and heavy and I struggled to take a breath as I wondered why, out of all the women eagerly throwing their money at him, he'd chosen me? I was just someone sitting at the bar across the room, watching quietly, nursing my drink. I hadn't made any grand gestures or tried to catch his attention. So why me?
I didn't trust it. I didn't trusthim.
I shook my head no.
Something flashed across his face—a fleeting mixture of disappointment and hunger. His eyes darkened for a moment, the green irises nearly swallowed by the expanding pupils. His jaw clenched, the muscles twitching beneath the taut skin. It was a look of barely restrained desire, a yearning that went beyond mere physical attraction. But as quickly as it appeared, the expression vanished, replaced by his usual charming smile as he blew kisses to his attentive audience and rose gracefully to his feet to collect his discarded clothing.
As I watched him disappear behind the curtain, I couldn't shake the feeling that I’d just dodged a bullet. Or walked away from the most exciting thing that would ever happen to me. It was a toss up, really, and not something I wanted to examine too closely. That male on the stage had just proven one thing, at least: I wasn't blending in as well as I thought I was, which meant I needed to leave.
Turning back to my drink, I finished it off, gathered my things, and got the hell out of there.
But as I turned down a small, cobbled road searching for the bus stop, a sign caught my eye. I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, forcing the other pedestrians to walk around me as my mind went back to the dancer at the club.
That male wasn't human. That much was certain. And I'd bet my last peso that the others who worked at The Purple Fang weren't either. The way they moved, the intensity in their eyes, the almost predatory grace they possessed—it all screamed supernatural. Even the handsome bartender.
Which meant that maybe, just maybe, they could help me.
But first, I needed to find out who—and what—I was dealing with here. I was sure it wouldn't be easy. To live out in the open the way they did, they must guard their secrets closely.
But I was Esme Ramirez, and I'd never backed down from a challenge. Especially not when the answers I sought could finally lead me to the justice my family deserved.
I stared at that sign for a long time, weighing my options, and then I turned on my heel and dragged my suitcase up the three steps and knocked on the wooden door.
Hopefully, my new landlord was still awake.
* * *
The following night, I went back to the club, occupying the same stool I had the night before—at the end of the bar closest to the door. Just in case.
I was two drinks in when the bartender announced the next dancer, and the male I'd watched the night before strolled out onto the stage wearing much the same thing, except this time his shirt had large purple flowers all over it.
His name was Brogan.
To my surprise, those striking eyes found me right away, and he cocked his head with interest. I gave him what I hoped was a sexy smile as I slowly re-crossed my legs, then took a sip of my drink.
His eyes travelled down my red corset top and black jeans, lingering on my strappy black heels a few seconds before making their way back up to my face. We stared at each other for a long moment, until a woman in the audience screamed something slightly obscene and he tore his eyes from mine and smiled at her, shaking his finger in mock disapproval.
The next time he looked for me, I got up and walked out the door.
* * *
Nearly every night for the next week, I arrived at The Purple Fang just as the entertainment began, and I would leave as soon as Brogan finished dancing. Sometimes even before. And every night, it was harder and harder for him to take his eyes from me and give his fans his attention.
But this night, I stayed. And waited.
He came out from behind the curtain still wearing his stage outfit, which was an even more garish Hawaiian shirt than the night before and a pair of skintight leather pants. The ladies went wild when they saw him, but he sent them away with a smile, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on me.
With a sexy smirk, he strode toward the bar. My gaze was drawn to him as I watched him approach, his strides long and easy. My heart pounded as I tried to appear nonchalant, discreetly wiping my sweaty palms on the front of my pants.
He slid onto the stool next to me without an invitation, his outer thigh brushing against mine as he signaled the bartender. "Elias! Whiskey, neat. And another of whatever the lady is having."
