Page 2 of Threads of Crimson

I gripped Ronan’s suitcoat. “Turn around.”

He patted my hand. “Don’t worry, Benji.”

He held his other hand out, and Eric placed the manila folder on it, then buzzed my cheek. “Have fun,” was all he said before striding away and disappearing down a back hall.

Ronan opened the folder, fanning the pages of the NDA Eric had me sign before coming, checking all the spots where I’d initialed and closing it with a satisfied hum after a cursory glance at my signature. I waited impatiently—having a hard time keeping my gaze from the couple behind him—as he set the folder on the counter in front of him and focused those piercing gray eyes back on me.

“Look,” I started, holding my hands up. “I’m not sure exactly what kind of business you’re running here, but, uh…”

My eyes moved back to the couple behind him. The woman—who barely looked twenty-one—had a bemused smile on her face as the guy who’d been chomping on her licked a stripe up her pale neck, cleaning up the blood.

“So yeah. To each his own, you know, but I’m not really interested in some weir—” I cut myself off. The last thing I wanted to do was offend someone about their kinks when I was standing in the middle of their club. I cleared my throat.

Ronan chuckled. “I’m sure this looks odd to you. I noticed when you came in that Eric didn’t really give you time to take it all in.”

He sure didn’t. Asshole. I was pretty sure he knew I’d have run right back out the door if I noticed people chomping on each other like chew toys. At this point, it being some kind of brothel or sex den would’ve been preferable to whatever the hell this was.

“No. He didn’t, which I’m sure was on purpose. Look…” I cleared my throat and hooked a thumb back over my shoulder. “I think I’m just going to head out.”

Ronan tilted his head agreeably. “If you’d like, but I think you might reconsider if you hear me out.”

“I’m not so sure about…” I trailed off as he opened his mouth wide and teeth—like the actual ones in his mouth—began to grow. “What the fuck?”

He smiled, all toothy-like, and I realized that it wasn’t all his teeth, but only his canines, leaving him with fangs. “How’d you do that?”

He chuckled again, which annoyed me a little since he was the one doing shifty stuff. “I just let my nature slip out, Benji.”

“That makes no sense. Your nature?”

Were these people all on drugs? Had Eric brought me and deserted me in the middle of some weird drug cult? I didn’t believe in God after the shitshow my life had been, but I’d thank him anyway that I hadn’t had anything to drink.

Over Ronan’s shoulder, I saw the bitey guy slip the girl a stack of bills. I sure hoped they were hundreds and not dollar bills after her letting him pierce her skin with those fake teeth and… Blech. I think he drank her blood.

“Are you people into vampirism or something?”

Ronan tapped on one of the long-ass canines. “You could say that.”

I swallowed hard. A redheaded bartender slid a drink to the lady behind Ronan, and she smiled brightly, taking a long drink before unfolding one of the bills and sticking it into his tip jar. Seriously, this place and the weirdly subservient occupants were freaking me out.

A clicking sound caught my attention, and I followed the noise to Ronan’s hand as he rhythmically tapped freakishly long nails against the folder holding my NDA. Considering he’d patted my hand, and I’d been watching him as he flipped through the pages, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that those nails were not there before. Maybe there was a hallucinogen in the air?

Ronan slid off his stool, patting the seat he’d vacated. “Have a seat, Benji.”

Shaking my head, I said, “I think I’d rather leave.”

“Please stay. Just watch for a little while. If you’re still not interested after this evening, then no hard feelings. In fact, you won’t even remember being here.”

Uh, did he think that was reassuring? What the hell did that even mean? Was he going to kill me? Drug me so that I blacked out and couldn’t remember anything in the morning?

Ronan pulled a money roll out of his pocket, very precisely counting out ten hundred-dollar bills, then laid them on the bar top in front of the stool he wanted me to sit on. “This is for your time. No matter what you decide, this leaves with you.”

He looked up at the bartender. “Can you get our friend a bottle of water, please? Leave the lid on so he knows it hasn’t been tampered with. He doesn’t quite trust us yet.”

Ronan nodded at the stool once more. “Sit, Benji. Soak it in. You could change your whole life in one month, my friend. Let us help you.”

He planted his hands on my shoulders, and I realized I’d moved and sat down while grappling with the idea of leaving here with so much money. One thousand dollars didn’t go far in New York City, but it sure the hell was a good start to changing my life.

The bartender set the water bottle in front of me with a sweet smile, and Ronan squeezed my shoulders. “If you have any questions, just ask Rafe. He’s been with us about six months, so he should be able to help you.”