How this girl can simultaneously make me into a man and humble me is beyond me.
I whirl and throw her over my shoulder, carrying her to the bed. I have to claim her again. I'm not giving her my bite, but I sure as hell can't keep my cock away from her.
Present
SHERIDAN
THE VAMPIRES' club is tucked in El Mercado district, near the trolley stop, at the edge of their territory. A nondescript stucco building with nice landscaping and a pretty stone walkway. I'm there right at dusk, and sit in my car with the top up, watching the sun melt below the horizon in a storm of color.
The only thing to fear is fear itself. I tap my dashboard with my finger, readying myself to walk into the vampires' stronghold. The fact that Lucius the leech king gave the invitation doesn't reassure me at all. Vampires love their invitations-and they don't need permission to get inside a victim's head. Lucius wouldn't have extended one if he wasn't sure he held the upper hand. He's up to something. Maybe it has to do with the mysterious black car I keep glimpsing on my block.
Someone knocks on my window and I jolt in my seat with a squawk until I meet Trey's baby blues, my alarm reflected in their depths.
Trey gives me a concerned look as I roll down my window. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah. Just, you know, nervous." I don't mention the mysterious black car sitting outside my house a couple times this week. After the story of my stalker, he might not take it well.
Trey opens my door and I hop out. He's dressed in his usual biker guy outfit: another leather jacket, white shirt and black jeans with his wallet on a chain. His hair is spiked with fresh gel, and his boots slightly less dusty and scuffed than usual.
He's scowling at me.
"What?" I look down at my chest. " Do I have something on my shirt?"
"That's not a shirt."
"You're right." I fiddle with the zipper between my girls, tugging it down another millimeter before twirling on my Louboutins to give him the entire view. "I think technically it's called a catsuit." I smooth my hands down the sharp angle from my waist to my flaring hips, and strike a pose. "Meow."
"Fuck," Trey mutters. "Where do you get these outfits, anyway?"
"BDSM-R-Us." I lean into him, inhaling his scent, a masculine mix of aftershave and motor oil. His arms go around me automatically. I can't stop myself from wriggling closer. "Is that a lead pipe in your jeans or are you happy to see me?"
"Fuck me." He holds me close, burying his face in my hair, and I'd wager he's enjoying the mingle of our scents. I know I am.
"I got you something to wear," I murmur.
"Oh yeah?" His breath wafts over my ear as he nuzzles my neck.
I step back and he lets me go, following me with a hungry gaze.
Then he sees what I pull out of the store bag. "Fuck no!" He jumps back as if I've Tazed him.
I hold up the leash and silver-studded collar. "No? It'll go with your outfit," I singsong, strutting on my heels as he backs away. "Actually, no. You need to be naked." His groan deepens as I wave the bag at him, enjoying the results of my gag gift. "You don't want to be my little doggie?"
"Really fucking funny."
"That's No, mistress," I instruct with a smug smile.
With a growl, Trey advances. I back up, wide-eyed, as all six feet of him comes at me, horn-gry and looking like an avenging biker god. He snatches the leash and collar from my hand. "I'll take this."
"You're gonna wear it?" My mouth drops open a little. I only got it as a joke.
He shoots me a look of pure menacing promise. "One of us is gonna wear it tonight. But it's not going to be me." He pretends to inspect the leather goods. The wickedness in his eyes sends zings straight to inner thighs. My knees wobble.
I may have pushed the wolf too far.
Trapping my gaze in ice, he pulls the store bag from my hand. "What else you got?"
"A-a, um, gag gift," I stutter. "Literally."
He holds up the red ball gag. "Nice." He turns it over before pocketing it, along with the leash and collar. "Should come in handy."
He catches my elbow right before my legs give out. "Let's go."
The last of the sun's rays dive behind the mountains as we walk up to the club. A pale human greets us at the door, a black strip of ribbon tied around his neck. He's thin and anemic, but good-looking in a boy band sort of way.
"Welcome to Club Toxic."
I take my last breath of fresh air, the hair on the back of my neck prickling at the vampires' scent as I step into their lair.
The doorman offers to take our jackets and I give him a toothy grin. "I don't have one."
Trey folds his arms over his chest, his glower a clear refusal. The human doesn't balk-doesn't show any expression really. I check his neck for bite marks but can't see anything under the satin choker that seems to be a makeshift collar. Probably why he's wearing it.
"We're early," Trey murmurs, looking around the empty dance floor. A few people sit in booths or stand at tall tables, but there's barely anyone here.
"On purpose. I wanted to stake out our territory before a crowd shows up." As we walk across the room, I stay as close to him as I can without actually leaning on him. He doesn't seem to mind. The scent of vampires clogs my nose.
Trey takes a derisive sniff. "Smells like a dish drain."