“One hour then,” Marc agreed and, taking the two steps down to the dance floor, quickly melted into the crowd.
Christian lost sight of him almost immediately, but he could still sense him nearby. Marc was his child. They had a connection that could only be broken by final death—the kind that ended in a pile of dust, a possibility too painful to contemplate.
Reminding himself that Marc was a strong vampire who was more than capable of defending himself, Christian turned to his own purpose in being here. And that was to feed, to gain strength before his meeting tonight with Anthony. A meeting that was important to both his and Marc’s future on this continent.
He scanned the crowded room. Several women returned his assessing gaze, but most were too aggressive for his taste, too blatant in their invitation. Christian liked intelligent women, even bold women, but bold didn’t mean brash. He preferred subtlety in all things.
His eye fell on a lovely young thing standing with a group of friends. The women were all casting glances his way, whispering among themselves. Most stared openly, their hunger for what he offered transparent. But the one who’d caught his attention dared only fleeting looks before lowering her eyes. It might have been an artifice, but he didn’t think so. And, frankly, he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to mate the female, he only wanted to sink his fangs into her neck, and take what he needed. And, of course, leave her trembling in sexual ecstasy in return.
Christian captured her gaze the next time she ventured a look. It took only the smallest hint of his power. She wanted him; she was simply too shy, or too frightened, to demand it the way the others were doing. He descended to the dance floor, the crowd parting before him like a bow wave.
One of the club lights was shining almost directly down on his target, gleaming off her cap of short, dark hair, her big, brown eyes as round and startled as a doe’s as she watched him approach. Her friends preened as he drew close, but their excitement gradually turned to disappointment, and in one case, anger, as they realized who his target was. The angry one, a bottle blonde with big hair and deep cleavage, tried to insert herself in front of him, but she withered before his cold stare.
He turned instead to his doe, drawing within a few inches of her. Close enough to see the tremble in her fingers as she clasped her hands to her chest, to hear the tripping beat of her heart and detect the sweet scent of her arousal.
“What’s your name, bichette?” he asked, using the French term for the little doe she resembled.
“C-Carmen,” she said nervously.
“Would you like to dance with me, Carmen?”
She looked confused for a moment, as if she’d expected him to grab her right there on the dance floor and sink fang. Was that how the local vampires behaved? If so, there were going to be some changes when he came to power.
Christian pulled her gently into his arms and began swaying to the music, as he moved them deeper into the crowd and away from her friends. The song was an upbeat tune, but he didn’t care. He found a low, throbbing rhythm within the music, and moved gently from side to side, one hand holding Carmen’s fingers against his heart, the other circling her slender waist, his fingers spread over her lower back. Slowly, her muscles relaxed, the tension leaving her body as the song continued. Before long, her head was resting against his shoulder and he tightened his hold, letting his fingers drift down farther, to just above the curve of her ass.
The song ended, fading out as another began, the DJ making the switch seamlessly. The new song was slower, something soft and bluesy, and the lights dimmed to reflect the new mood. Christian lowered his head to the curve of Carmen’s jaw, drawing in the scent of her skin. And beneath that, the sweet perfume of her blood, rushing temptingly close to the surface, the big vein in the side of her neck plump and inviting.
He placed a kiss right beneath her ear. She shivered in anticipation and pressed her body closer to his, until he could feel the hard points of her breasts pushing against his chest. She gave a needy little moan, as Christian slow-danced her into a shadowy corner of the already dark club.
Carmen looked up at him with wide eyes when her back hit the wall. She blinked several times, as if waking from a dream, but then her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips. Christian’s dick twitched. He wanted to push himself against her, to grip her tight, little ass and rub his cock against the heat he could feel pulsing from her pussy. Without warning, she raised up on her tiptoes and kissed his mouth. She was awkward and inexperienced, but Christian wasn’t.
Suddenly impatient, he took over more than the kiss. He took command of her body, arms tight around her back as he lifted her higher, crushing his mouth against hers, his tongue thrusting, demanding she respond in kind. She moaned again, in surprise first, and then in hunger, her arms circling his neck as she mashed her mouth against his, tearing the delicate skin of her lip and flooding his senses with the taste of her.
Christian growled hungrily, his tongue sweeping out to take in every drop of her spilled blood, before he lowered his mouth to her neck. She gasped as he licked and sucked her velvet skin until her jugular was a swollen line, pushing beneath the surface, as if offering itself up to his bite.
His gums split as his fangs emerged. Sharp spikes of pain were quickly forgotten with the bounty of Carmen’s hot blood so close that the rush of its passage was a faint vibration against his lips. He brushed the tip of one fang along her neck, and she groaned in need.
Gripping her short dark hair in one hand, he tipped her head to the side and struck, slicing through the warm silk of her skin, piercing the slight resistance of her vein. Her entire body shuddered in sexual frenzy, as her blood began to flow. It was hot and sweet, and tasted of innocence and sunshine, of a sexual need that was raw and unformed. And it flowed down his throat in a hot flood of life itself.
The darkest part of his vampire nature tried to rise up, to tighten his hold on her and drink until there was nothing left, until she went limp in his arms and her heart stuttered to a halt. There was a time he’d have done that. A time when he’d routinely left death in his wake, instead of sexual satiation. But that was a very long time ago, and doe-eyed Carmen did not deserve to die. She did not need to die. Not at his hand, and not tonight.
Taking a final, long draught of her blood, he withdrew his fangs, holding her against his chest as she trembled through the final throes of her orgasm, then licking the small wounds on her neck to be certain they closed properly.
Christian moved back enough to see her face, but she clutched his shirt, seeming unsteady on her feet. Sliding his fingers through her short hair, he tugged her head back gently. Her eyes weren’t completely focused, but she smiled up at him, and Christian couldn’t help but smile back. She was happy, and apparently it was contagious.
“Let’s get you some sugar,” he murmured. Donating to a vampire was the same, in all the critical aspects, as giving blood. This particular location wasn’t likely to offer cookies—though he’d been to blood clubs that did—but orange juice was always available in a bar.
Holding Carmen steady with an arm around her waist, he started through the crowd, using just enough power to clear a path, without being obvious about it. When he was trying to attract women, he didn’t mind making a grand entrance, but with a pale and trembling female on his arm who’d obviously just been bit . . . well, let’s say there were some in the crowd who might object. And while there were some nights, and some clubs, where Christian would have welcomed the opportunity for a good brawl, this was not the night or the place.
All of the stools at the bar were taken, and the crowd was two people deep in most places. But Christian steered Carmen into a dark corner at the end, and suggested that the guy sitting on the last stool next to the wall might want to go elsewhere. The man vacated the seat just in time for Christian to slide Carmen onto the empty stool. She blew out a long breath, as if wearied by their hike across the dance floor, and Christian chuckled. He had a feeling he’d have liked shy Carmen if he’d met her under other circumstances. But as it was, he’d never see her again. Or if he did, she wouldn’t remember him. He’d make sure of it.
While he waited for the bartender to make his way down the long, busy bar to them, he scanned the club, seeking Marc’s familiar figure. Their hour was nearly up; it was time to leave. But while he knew Marc was near, he couldn’t spot him in the crowd. Frowning, he tapped into their unbreakable link just as that link flared to life. Marc was outside the club, and he was pumping adrenaline like a guy getting ready to kick someone’s ass. Shit. Only two minutes ago, Christian had been aiming for a subtle exit.
He signaled the bartender again, using a sharp push of power to make sure the man made a beeline to their end of the bar. Pulling out a hundred dollar bill, he gestured at Carmen and said, “Get her a Harvey Wallbanger, heavy on the juice. A second one if she wants it. Keep an eye on her after, and the rest is yours.”
The bartender gave Carmen a knowing look. “Sure thing, boss.”
Christian stroked a hand down Carmen’s arm, and deposited a gentle kiss against her temple. “Have a good life, bichette.” And then he was heading for the door.