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At the door to the suite, Leonard made quite a show of pulling out the keycard and swiping it. The guards lingered in the corridor, back to back, studying the opposite ends of it.
“We’re going to have such a good time, my little Britney,” Leonard whispered, licking her lips.
“You have no idea, Asher!” Cassandra answered, twirling her fake extensions again.
One of the guards moved toward the door and Cassandra placed her hand on his arm. “Oh, no, no. I don’t do group things.”
“Stay outside, Ramon. It’ll be okay.” Leonard winked and pushed the door open.
“I’m here to guard the package, not you,” Ramon answered tersely.
Flustered, Leonard yanked Cassandra inside, anxious to shut the door. “Well, everything is safe in here.”
“I’m supposed to guard the package until delivery,” Ramon responded. “I’m coming in.”
“I think I broke a nail,” Cassandra wailed, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible.
“You’re still beautiful,” Leonard assured her, while trying to keep Ramon outside. His hand pressed against the other man’s chest, he said, “I promise you, Ramon, it will be just fine. This is the only way into the room.”
“Let him get laid,” the other guard interjected. “Shit, man, I’d like to get me some of that, so don’t cock block like an asshole.”
Ramon hesitated, then finally acquiesced. “Fine, but I need to check the suite first.”
“Well, hurry,” Leonard ordered imperiously. “Time is of the essence.”
“Whatever,” Ramon grumbled, brushing past them into the suite.
Cassandra made a big show of filing one of her red acrylic nails while the burly guard examined every possible hiding space in the room. While he searched, Cassandra furtively scanned the room, memorizing the layout. Finally satisfied, Ramon sauntered to the door.
“Remember, the boss arrives soon. So whatever you’re going to do, make it fast.” Ramon gave Cassandra a contemptuous look.
She winked at him. Ramon frowned.
With a triumphant smile, Leonard slammed the door in the guard’s face.
In one swift motion, Cassandra lifted one foot, grabbed the heel, hit the concealed button releasing the stiletto from her shoe, and punched it through Leonard’s heart. The silver in the heel instantly paralyzed him and he toppled into her arms, his glamour vanishing.
“Good boy,” she whispered in his ear. “We don’t need any noise.” Tossing him onto the bed, Cassandra straddled him and rested her elbows on his chest, staring into his terrified brown eyes. His pockmarked skin drained of color when he caught sight of her teeth sharpening into fangs. “I’m so glad you finally got me alone. I’ve been starving all night. And I really hate foreplay, so why don’t we get down to it?”
The paralyzed vampire’s eyes widened in fear. Unable to call out, move, or fight back, he was as helpless as any of his previous victims. That thought made Cassandra’s smile grow into a terrible grin seconds before she sank her sharp teeth into his cold flesh and drank his undead blood.
Chapter 2:
The Beautiful Prisoner
The bright lights of Vegas reflected off the darkened windows of the limousine as it rolled along the boulevard. It was close to ten in the evening and the sidewalks and walkways were packed with tourists. Some were dressed in their flashiest outfits, while others were in shorts and t-shirts. Children skipped alongside their bedazzled parents while elderly couples strolled hand in hand admiring the exploding volcano nearby. It was a wild, bright paradise that promised anything a person could desire.
Yet, the excitement of the revelers left Aimee cold. She knew what lurked in the shadows and hid behind the sparkling veneer. It wa
s difficult not to feel morose when she knew that some of the enthralled people visiting Vegas would never leave it alive.
“I can’t imagine what this place will be like in another hundred years,” the man beside her said thoughtfully. “Of course, I’ll be around to find out and if you play your cards right, so will you.” Lifting Aimee’s hand to his cool lips, he pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
“I may outlive you, you know. No one knows how long a witch’s lifespan actually is,” Aimee answered in a dark tone.
“That’s right. Your kind usually ends up dead at a very young age by nefarious means. You’d best try to avoid that.” His voice was smooth as silk, but there was a subtle threat there.
Dressed fashionably in an Armani tuxedo, his black hair immaculately coiffed, his goatee sculpted to perfection, and his black eyes hidden behind red-tinted glasses, her lover and master exuded the elegant sophistication cultivated only by centuries of living at the top of the food chain. Francois, now Frank, had been an aristocrat long ago and he still carried himself like he was a marquis.
