Page 2 of Bonded Through Bite

Breathe, Samantha. Breathe.

You’ve got this.

A sharp pain spears my frontal lobe, but I ignore that even more expertly than the chilliness of the back seat. None of that matters anymore.

The cab pulls in front of the Lair and I get out, eyeing the line of people waiting to get in. It’s the hottest club in town and the line curves behind the corner. I have neither the time nor the patience to wait in line that long. I’ll talk myself out of this plan before I get anywhere near the velvet rope.

A couple of deep breaths steel my resolve and I walk straight to the entrance. I used to come here often, not so much these last six months, but the bouncer still recognizes me. He flashes a little fang and steps aside, letting me inside without a hassle.

“Thanks,” I murmur, careful not to tilt my head in invitation. Rafael made sure I knew all the necessary social niceties, since he ‘didn’t want to behead someone’ for tasting me. I thought he was kidding at first, but when a visiting vamp from another district tried to compel me for a drink, he lost his fangs.

So, I guess not.

What I didn’t tell Rafael, or the de-fanged vamp, is that compulsion doesn’t work on me.

Never has. That’s how I first learned about vampires existing in the first place. I knew about witches and some other shenanigans—it’s hard not to when your bff is a witch—but vampires were a revelation for me. At least after that, Thea was able to fill me in on other supes. Witches, vampires, and shifters being the largest populations.

It makes me feel special to be in the know. The general population thinks that vampires and the goth décor are just a theme at the Lair. In a way, it’s true; they just don’t know how deep the theme truly goes. The blood-themed drinks are sometimes just blood, and the bite marks the staff wear are not makeup.

The music blasts me the moment I step through the second doors and I take in the familiar setting. Flashing lights cascade from the crystal chandeliers, the dance floor is packed, and there’s a faint smell of something sweet in the air.

The Lair has deep booths lining the walls that offer privacy, draped in deep burgundy fabrics trimmed with black satin. They never look worn or have stains on them. I suspect they are spelled, but I never asked since, according to Thea, vampires and witches don’t get along.

I weave between bodies toward the bar. The counter is painted black and accented with red lights, the wall behind it filled with bottles and ‘blood bags.’ I know for certain that the real ones are kept refrigerated.

The bar is slammed, but I wedge myself between two groups and wait for my turn. I hate people who make a big show of ordering drinks, like they are something special, and can’t wait for their turn. If they truly were such a big deal, they would be in the VIP section being waited on.

I recognize Mick and smile when he stops in front of me. “And what will you have?” he asks absent-mindedly.

“Something strong,” I reply, and his eyes snap up.

“Sam? Is that really you?”

“It’s wondrous what a shower and some mascara can do,” I say, laughing. I know I look different than my usual outfit of tank top, jeans, and no makeup.

Mick blinks and keeps staring before visibly shaking himself out of it. “Your usual?”

“Nope. Something with alcohol. With lots of alcohol.” There’s no need to hold back on drinking anymore. And I might need that little final push to follow through with my plans.

“You okay?” Mick frowns and I flash a bright smile at him.

“Just letting my hair down a little,” I say and run my hand over my hair, ruffling it a bit. The trip to the salon to get it dyed deep blue was definitely worth the money. And the color sort of matches my eyes, too.

I feel more like myself than I have in three years. Ever since those persistent migraines turned out to be something else. I pulled into my shell then, focused on getting better and making smart choices… like not getting tangled up with a vampire. Biting back a snort, I force the smile to stay on my face.

I forgot how to be… me.

Mick looks me up and down again and with extra flair, he spins the bottles, mixes a drink, and then pours it over a line of shot glasses. I lift my brow at him and chuckling, he throws back the last shot. I grab one on the other end of the line and chug it. It tastes like cotton candy and I make a face at the horrible sweetness.

“You trying to kill me?” I choke out.

“Picky.” Mick shakes his head in mock sorrow. I down the second shot and it tastes more like a fruit punch. Curious, I drink the next one and it has a hint of coconut in it. I like coconut. I reach for the last shot and stick my tongue out at the grinning Mick.

“Cocky.” I throw the shot back and groan in delight as the fresh mint coats my mouth. “Wizard,” I add, and he laughs at the nickname. I dig my wallet out, but he shakes his head.

“On the house. Now go shake that ass on the dance floor and give a poor man something to look at.”

“Thanks!” I stash away my wallet and eye the crowd. There are people on the floor, but it’s not packed as tight as some other nights. My eyes wander over the VIP section, but Rafael is nowhere to be seen.