Page 41 of Vampire Visions

“Uh-huh…” I trailed off, striding from the room before I decided to help her blow off her steam. We were going out. To a bar. Not staying in to fuck all night. I needed to get my mind out of the gutter.

No.

She needed to stop sucking my mind into the gutter with her. Fucking brat. She knew exactly what she was saying, how she was saying it, and how she wanted me to respond. I wasn’t ready to give in, though.

We made it into the living area just in time to hear Jack say the name of the bar we were going to. It was something something Cajun. It didn’t matter to me what it was called. I didn’t know shit about this place, and the she-wolf on my back was playing with my hair, where it had been tied neatly in a bun. I moved my head away from her hand. “Stop,” I quietly hissed at her. Novak grinned at us, probably returning the expression she wore while she drove me crazy.

“If that’s where we’re going,” Sloane began hesitantly as she slid slowly down my back. “Then you guys are probably going to meet an ex of mine.”

York huffed. “Before or after me,” he questioned her.

“Before,” she dragged out, giving him an expression that I didn’t really understand.

“Oh.” He raised a brow at her. “That guy? He’s going to be where we’re going tonight?” He spun his finger around, effectively pointing at all of us. She nodded her head, seeming reluctant to answer him.

“You should have seen what she did to his car.” Jack mock whispered behind his hand.

She turned wide eyes to him. “I paid for it.”

“Charlie paid for it,” Sam corrected her from the kitchen.

I just gaped at her before responding with a warning. “Do not touch my truck.”

Sloane shrugged her shoulders delicately. “Then don’t lie to me,” she sassed back.

“Fair enough,” I conceded.

She grinned deviously at me. “Did you want to make that a deal while the Devil is present or did you have some other idea to make it official?”

“Temptress,” I playfully accused, loving the flirty side of her.

* * *

As a group, we entered the downtown nightlife of Baton Rouge. We passed by businesses and a bar before Sloane stopped abruptly. “You sure?” Her eyes held more questions than those two words, but Jack nodded his head at her.

“Lead the way, bitch. If you want to be noticed and start a wildfire of rumors, then you know as well as I do that this is the place.”

“Okay,” she mumbled.

Turning at the side of the building in front of us, she scanned the sidewalk as she pressed her left hand to the brick wall. I scratched at the stubble on my jaw, intrigued by what she was doing.

Nothing happened.

When she removed her hand and stepped back, a red light glowed like a doorway opening in the bricks. A shifter in a suit stepped out, clipboard in his large paws. Grizzly bear, if I had to guess. He flipped the top page over and addressed our group without looking up, “Reservation name?” He was neither polite nor rude, instead sounding bored.

“King. Party of 9.” I thought the tone she took with him was probably how she spoke at work. The name made him look up, straightening his slouching spine and shoulders.

He swept his hand out, stepping back to allow us entry. “Welcome back, Ms. King. Mr. King.” He bowed his head slightly at the hellstead before moving out of our way. Jack took the lead, descending the narrow brick stairwell. The walls were lit with flickering red lights mounted every five feet or so. They were just bright enough to see the steps ahead of us, but the further down we went, the more they faded and flashed on and off.

The staircase ended, dropping us at the beginning of a long, dingy corridor. The red lights were blinking so fast that they looked like strobes. Or the warning of upcoming chaos. My spine prickled as we neared the next door. Jack rapped his knuckles on the door three times, and it swung open on its own, a slight shimmer of wards on the threshold.

We pushed through the one-way soundproof barrier, one by one. My sensitive hearing was immediately assaulted by the blaring music, and I cringed while I adjusted to my surroundings. It was a supernatural speakeasy, not exactly the regular human bar I’d assumed we were going to.

Jack turned to look at Sloane, raising a brow and tilting his head toward the L-shaped stairs leading to a VIP mezzanine. “I’m going to get our table.” He raised his voice over the deafening music so the rest of us would know what they'd been saying to each other.

Sloane nodded her head, pointing to the bar area of the VIP section. “I’ll go order our drinks.” She matched Jack’s tone. Relying on mental connections would have been helpful here, but most of us didn’t share one with her yet.

We moved as a group, following Sloane and Jack up and through a second barrier. My spine prickled again, but this time the barrier we walked through was welcome. It didn’t mute the music so much as it turned the volume down. The noise level was more manageable and would make it easier to talk to each other now that we didn’t have to yell.