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He puts the car in park and slides out of the seat at a normal speed, making me tick another box for evidence of his youth. The vampires I’ve been around seem to use their abilities as their primary nature, whereas this kid is still acting like a human. If it wasn’t for the golden eyes and the supernatural stillness of his being, I’d think him human. I like him, though. It’s good to not feel like the only one out of place.
After opening the door for me, he falls into step behind me as I make my way to the familiar door that’ll lead us towards Ambrose’s office. I should be nervous about what I’m walking into, considering the last time I was here, but instead I’m excited to see Ambrose. When he went down on me, covered in blood, something came alive in me. Maybe I’m way kinkier than I ever suspected. Another part of it is how damn good it made me feel to know that someone as literally powerful as Ambrose was going to town on me like I was in the one in control. That I could bring him to his knees if I want to.
Tonight, I definitely want to.
The service hall is empty, and I feel the muffled sound of the club beyond more than I hear it. Last time I was here, I’d borrowed one of Deidre’s dresses and felt awkward. This time, in a tease at the smart suits the Nightshade vampires always seem to wear, I’m wearing a two-tone outfit. It’s my own power suit, though it’d never fly in Topside at an actual business. I’m rocking a pristine white, long-sleeve bodysuit that hugs my curves like a race car but the best part is the massive V-neck that goes almost down to my belly button, and it has lapels like a dress shirt that released its repressed sexuality. My black skirt is tiny but high-waisted, starting just below the deep neckline and only going as far as mid-thigh. If I drop anything, it’s lost forever because I definitely will not be bending over in this.
The best part that has me swaying my hips and feeling like hot shit? I’m wearing the fuck-me heelsanda borrowed pair of Ambrose’s suspenders.
I don’t even bother keeping the giddy smile hidden; I’m too excited to see his face when he realizes I’m wearing something of his.
With my black hair hot ironed and in a high ponytail and maroon lipstick on, I feel like I belong here at Noir. I’m one of the Nightshades, something that so many humans in the Barrows, here on the dance floor, wish for each time they come.
The kid—I really should ask his name again—uses his superhuman speed to get to the door and open it before I can, and the music is louder now as we step into the dimly lit hall leading towards Ambrose’s office. Before we get too close, Malachi steps out, closing the door too swiftly for me to get a look inside. Is there someone or something in there I shouldn’t see?
Seriously, what’s wrong with me that I’m getting disappointed that I don’t get to see Ambrose in his element?
“Ms. Eloise,” Malachi greets with what I’ve learned is his warm voice. “Ambrose is downstairs.”
“Oh!” I perk up and studiously ignore the knowing look in Malachi’s dark gold eyes. “Is he busy?”
Malachi gives a nod to the vampire behind me and raises his arm to guide me towards the stairs that’ll take us down to the actual club.
“Ambrose is never too busy for you,” he answers in an incredibly dry tone. I shoot a look over my shoulder, but not for too long. Even though Malachi would probably catch me, I don’t need to lose the power chic vibe I’m feeling by almost breaking my ankle falling down the stairs.
“Is he meeting with anyone?” I ask just before we reach the door at the bottom. I step aside, knowing not to try to open it myself. I only need to be glared at once by one of the vampires for me to know that they take their protection duties very seriously.
Malachi opens the door, his back to me as he practically fills the doorway and waits for a long moment before stepping aside and letting me follow. I look around the more sedate side of Noir, the deep booths filled with patrons even this early in the night, but I don’t see Ambrose. In fact, I don’t see any of the vampires I’m familiar with.
Malachi gently grasps my elbow and turns me the opposite direction, towards the packed dance floor and pounding music. The music I could feel earlier now surrounds me with heavy beats, sensual rhythms, and intoxicating energy. I want to lose myself in the music, still craving that feeling from last night. Ambrose caught me too soon—all I’d had was one drink and danced for two songs before he’d swept me into his arms.
The room would be pitch black if it weren’t for the swinging colored lights, bright strobe lights from different angles, and hazy, glowing fog swirling overhead. On one side of the room is a huge stage where a DJ dances that’s lit by a backdrop of mind-bending images projected on the wall behind him. Opposite him is a bar stretching across the entire wall and filled with people pushing up to get their next order in. In between alcoholic bottles are the familiar ultraviolet blue vials of Rapture, glowing as if under a black light.
If Malachi answers me, it’s lost in the music as he shifts in front of me. I press my hand to his upper back as he stalks straight through the dancing crowd. They part before him like schools of fish fearing an orca whale; some look at us with foggy gazes, while others move away by instinct alone at the aura of danger Malachi puts out. A few weeks ago, I would have been terrified of the vampire in front of me. Even now, my spine tingles with repressed nerves. But it’s hard to be terrified of a vampire after seeing him squabble with another vampire over the last croissant at breakfast.
For all that Ambrose, Malachi, Ashe and the others are powerful and rightly terrifying—they’re incredibly human. Perhaps it’s because they were all turned, rather than born as vampires?
Even in the middle of a dance floor filled with humans high on Rapture, vampires feeding, shifters gyrating and howling—I’m not afraid anymore. Not when I know the most deadly creatures in here would kill to protect me simply because I’m the human Ambrose has chosen to feed from.
It makes me want to be wildly dangerous.
We make it through the dance floor and Malachi nods towards the mezzanine level of booths and private bar. To my surprise, Eris is leaning against the short handrail, watching the dancers with rapt fascination. Her strange gaze flicks over us before dismissing us entirely. Malachi steps to the side and gestures for me to go ahead. Before I can ask where Ambrose is, he’s melted back into the dark and left me on my own.
Wary of Eris, as distracted as she seems, I take the three steps up to the sitting area. The flashes of light and colors give me a slightly disorienting view of the area and I pause, trying to see what booth Ambrose might be in. It’s impossible to see anyone in the booths, with lights pointing out towards the dance floor shielding each booth in darkness. The part of me, the one that purrs and melts whenever Ambrose is near, tells me to go right.
After a few steps, I’m more confident. I haven’t seen him, but I know he’s in the furthest booth. Focused on him, I don’t see the two male vampires appear in front of me until I practically run into them.
“Aren’t you a tasty one,” the brutish bald one on the left says loud enough for me to hear clearly. His eyes have the faintest red ring, but instead of being afraid, I’m more pissed off.
“Not interested.” I cross my arms, glaring at the two. There’s no way I can shove myself between them and keep going.
The other—not a vampire, shifter maybe?—has ragged, long black hair and is wearing a black leather trench coat. All he’s missing are dark glasses and he’d be the ultimate stereotype of bad guys from the Barrows, and not in the sexy way.
“We could make you interested,” the ragged one says with a smirk and pulls out a vial of Rapture. “Got more where this came from. Won’t even charge ya. Just have a good night with us, sweetheart.”
I roll my eyes. The bald vampire is wearing street clothes, so I don’t think he’s with the Nightshade vampires. Then again, I only know the inner circle. For all I know, he could be a street runner for Ambrose, and I doubt the king sends out a bulletin each time he has a new human to feed from. Either way, I know if I shout Ambrose’s name, he’ll be here with the hearts of these men in their hands before they’ve realized they’ve died.
Embolden with confidence, I change tactics. I’m not the nervous human I was before, and I cock my hip out and tilt my head at them. I don’t miss how both of them give me hungry looks, the shifter’s eyes stuck on my tits. He still has the vial of Rapture in his hand and I bat my eyelashes at him but I don’t reach out to take it. Pitching my voice loud enough to be heard over the music, even with their supernatural senses, I shoot them both smirks. They trade smarmy grins and I have to resist rolling my eyes again.
