Trey still hasn't texted. Should I try him again? Or give him a few more minutes to respond to my earlier attempts to contact him? I scroll through the day's texts, mine growing more and more worried, his more terse until finally, he's no longer answering.
That's when it hits me. I've been played. Trey played me. I can just hear him now, I'm just going through a lot, babe. We need to take it slow. I'm not ready to settle down. What was I thinking? Banging a guy whose idea of a business is selling beer on the sidelines of illegal fights in a run down warehouse? I'm smarter than this. I have my freaking MBA.
I slam my phone down and grab my mascara wand, opening my eyes wide and swiping aggressively. Trey thinks he can sleep with me and then just ghost? I mean, it's fine, it's not like he marked me... Oh, wait. He did. He marked me. Like I'm his mate. He freaking marked me like I'm his mate and less than twenty four hours later he won't even answer a freaking phone call when I need him.
Okay, calm down. I blink in the mirror, but my eyelashes stick together. Too much mascara. Never apply mascara while pissed. Too many layers makes eyelashes look like a sea urchin.
I'm being irrational. I know. But it's been an emotional day. And I don't like it when a guy promises to be with me forever by permanently scarring my skin, and then disappears. He gets a pass for having his new business and entire livelihood threatened. It's rough. But if I was really his mate, wouldn't he want to be with me?
I wash my face. I don't have time for this. I have a meeting with Frangelico.
I hope the vampires like lots of eyeshadow and mascara, because tonight I am full on grunge. I swap out my sophisticated skirt for a shorter one, and my sensible shoes for Doc Martens. At the last minute I pull on Trey's leather jacket because even though I am ready to run him over with my Mercedes, I still want to wrap myself in his scent. Stupid mating instinct.
The minute I enter the secret BDSM dungeon beneath the vampires' club Toxic that night, I know I've made a mistake. Leeches are everywhere, dressed in dark suits with their fangs on display. They ooze around, chaining their victims to walls, tying them to tables, stretching them on racks. The humans sigh and moan and slump in subspace. I want to shake them, scream at them to run. Get all the humans out and set the place on fire. Love is not real and even if it is, you will not find it with freaking vampires! Yep, vampires are real and you're about to let one suck on you. Here, let me stake one and you can watch it burn.
This grim thought sustains me as I weave around the scenes to find the king.
Eventually, I find him perched on a heavy wooden throne in the middle of room, overlooking a pair of quivering submissives splayed on crosses. They're being worked over by a large man in a black choker collar and leather harness, holding a violet wand.
An actual throne. Of course. I roll my eyes and march up to him, planting myself in front him. "We need to talk." I may have used up the last vestiges of my tact trying to reach Trey.
The king raises a brow but signals to his servant, who lowers the wand.
"Here? Or shall we step into my office?"
I want privacy, but don't really want to end up behind a closed door with a vampire. Lucius must see the struggle on my face, because he rises and claps his hands. "Let us walk together."
To my surprise, he comes down from the raised platform and falls in next to me. He doesn't offer me his arm, thank the fates, and doesn't seem to mind that I keep my distance, plus fall back a little to keep him in my sights. We're almost back to the front of the room, where some of the equipment has been moved to make room for a couch and two armchairs and a couple of small side tables, when I realize that I'm trailing behind him like a submissive.
Oh well. It's not like I actually am submissive to him. If he thinks I'm gonna obey him, he's got another think coming.
"What is this news?" Frangelico asks after we sit, and I decline his offer of a drink. I'm kinda proud I didn't shudder. What do vampires want their guests to drink? Bloody Marys?
Settling into my armchair, I tell him about the body found at the fight club and the human investigation: the whole messy business.
To his credit, Frangelico listens to my whole tale, not interrupting. He doesn't really change expression either. I bet he knows about the body-his spies are everywhere-but he plays along. Or maybe he is truly interested in how the werewolf pack is reacting to the whole mess. Plus the human angle-vampires are powerful, but they don't reproduce quickly. Which is why humans actually present a threat to everything paranormal. In the long run, both vamps and weres are outnumbered.
When I'm done, I bite my tongue through a few nervous beats of silence as he seems to ponder everything.
"So why do you come to me? This investigation, do you wish me to stop it?"
"No, no," I rush to say. "We'll take care of it. My alpha-Alpha Green-is already on it." I don't want to sic the vampires on law enforcement. "I just want the bodies-these victims with fang marks-to stop. Could it be one of your people, uh, going too far when they drink?"
"My people are too well-trained. Some of them chafe at my restrictions, but they would not dare break my rules." The king's voice turns frightening. "If they have, they will not like the consequences."