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This was like the books I'd read—like the things I always imagined real, normal people doing. Well, minus the vampire angle, I guessed.
But even if some part of me was practically vibrating with excitement at the idea of seeing where this all lead, I had to be realistic. If I hadn't already exposed myself to a deadly dose of foreign germs, I surely would inside that building.
I caught Maisey's eye when Riggs had his back turned. With silent, sister telepathy, we both agreed.
Run for it.
I gave a small nod, then we both turned and ran as fast as we could from Riggs.
9
Sylvie
I made two glorious steps toward freedom. The music of the club was behind me and the wind was in my hair. The night was warm and inviting. All I had to do was pump my legs and get away from the big, confusingly sexy bastard who insisted he was trying to keep us safe.
But all his muscles and athleticism apparently weren't just for show.
A grip that might as well have been cold hard steel stopped me in my tracks. I saw Maisey get yanked back just like I had by his other hand.
As quickly as that, our escape was thwarted, and we were being physically dragged into the building.
Maisey was putting up more of a fight than I was. She even managed to land a kick on his leg. "Let us go, asshole."
"I'm starting to consider it," he said, shoving us in front of him and through the door, which he pulled closed behind him.
I got a real look at the place—and a real smell. The whole building smelled like a mixture of cheap women's perfume and Axe body spray with a dose of body odor for good measure. There was a cheap neon sign hanging over the stage that identified the fine establishment as The Wet Flea.
The atmosphere was all cracked, dated woods and handmade furniture with a touch of industrial gothic. Overhead, a rickety cast iron walkway stretched from one side of the room to the other. When you threw in the mob of shaggy haired men—many of whom looked like they belonged at a heavy metal concert—and the equally metal, frighteningly dressed women, it was unique, to say the least.
I realized there was something similar in the way Riggs was dressed to the dancing people. Riggs had the look of an off-duty rock star and these people looked like groupies. I took a closer look at his wild hair, the various bits of tattoo showing beneath his leather jacket, and the collection of bracelets on one wrist. I glared at the bracelets. I hated when guys wore stuff like that, but Riggs pulled it off, which made it even more irritating.
I couldn't put my finger on what it was about the way the people were dancing in front of the stage, but something seemed odd. I guessed it was probably the fact that I'd never actually been to this sort of place before and I'd only read about it. Maybe it was normal for people to kind of hop together in unison or let out weird, dog-like barking sounds and howls.
I took in a deep breath of the vaguely nauseating smell and found myself smiling wide.
Maisey shot me a disgusted look. "Why do you look so pleased? This place is a shit hole."
"Smells like an adventure," I said.
She rolled her eyes. "Adventures get people killed in real life. Speaking of which, we need to get you to the nearest doctor and load you with every antibiotic they have as soon as we can shake this creep."
"This creep can hear everything you're saying. And what's wrong with her immune system?"
He was slowly moving us past the dancing people and toward a bar, where a handful of more normal looking people were hunched over drinks. A beautiful woman in black leather pants and a jean jacket was grabbing a brightly colored bottle from a mirrored wall lined with what had to be about a thousand different choices of liquor.
"I told you," Maisey snapped. She had to look over her shoulder to glare at Riggs because he was prodding us from behind toward two stools, which he sat us in. He took the seat beside me, which meant Maisey was directly next to some huge man with a shaved head. "She has a compromised immune system. She hardly ever leaves the apartment because it could get her sick. Really sick. And now you just dragged her through every fucking germ in the city and it's probably all having a free for all in her body right now."
Maisey's voice shook at the last sentence, and I realized she was barely covering her fear with the anger she felt toward Riggs.
I gave her hand a squeeze. "It'll be okay. There's that thing you were talking about, right?"
