Carlos stared at the paralyzed vampire. His dark brown eyes glittered with fear and what little color was in his thin face drained away. "Now would be a good time for you to hit that panic button by the register," Carlos said in a low, even tone. "You don't want to make me go up to my old office to get him."
She knew this was a bad idea... She should have listened to Marlene! Now she was in Hell's kitchen, surrounded by vamps, and a mortal combat was about to jump off. Oh my G -
Not in here!
"My bad," she whispered. She could see the vamps in the midsection of the dance floor area discreetly realign themselves. Females gravitated ever so subtly to certain males. Certain males grouped together, bulking slightly - not too much, but like they were on standby. Humans quickly exited, on the excuse of needing a smoke, whatever, but even human helpers knew that their markers were no protection when two dominant males squared off.
Carlos hadn't even moved. He was sipping a second drink, appearing casual with his back to the staircase that led to the owner's office. Part of her was indignant; she could understand how he felt. They'd changed the paint to a sick purple. Had switched out his once beautiful black marble and mahogany bar, and put some crazy Lucite in there. The music was all right, but the lights were giving her a headache. The place had been classy before. Now it was so... tacky, it didn't make sense. She looked at Carlos as his biceps flexed.
Damali could feel his rage building as he was forced to wait for the new owner to grace him with his presence.
Suddenly Carlos stood up, looked at her, and nodded. "You're right, baby. It is tacky."
She opened her eyes wide. "Don't do it," she whispered. "Not - "
Damali closed her eyes and shook her head, knowing it was already done. When she opened them again, the old decor was in place, Carlos was smiling, six inches of fang showing, his brows knitted as he studied his old establishment.
"Much better."
The twenty vamps in the room immediately went into battle stances, but parted as a tall, very angry second-level vampire stormed down the stairs from the offices. She watched, numb, as a lanky, built brother with locks came barreling down the stairs, eyes solid red.
"Out of order!" he said, pointing at Carlos.
"No, motherfucker - you are way out of order." Carlos hadn't raised his voice, but the crowd stepped back.
She watched Carlos stand, turn slowly, and take off his shades. He was eye-to-eye with the male who faced him. The brother backed up, his long locks swinging. The competitor brandished gold-capped fangs with diamonds in them, and his eyes glowed the same color red as his silk shirt. His territory crest medallion moved with his cinder block chest as he took in and released air hard. When he recognized Carlos, he snarled.
"They said you were dead."
"You know in our world, hearsay is dangerous, and doesn't hold up in council."
She watched a half smile cross Carlos's face. She tensed when she picked up motion in her peripheral vision. Five females had slowly gathered behind the new club owner, but when Carlos had spoken, they took a deep breath and hung back, their positions now in the middle of the two potential combatants without a clear choice being displayed. Deep.
"I'ma give you a choice," Carlos said, his voice low and lethal. "Since you didn't know I was around, as you claim, you can get your shit and your bitches out of my club - now, or die." Carlos walked to the center of the dance floor, putting space between him and Damali. "What will it be? And tell me my lair in Beverly Hills hasn't been opened. If you breached my lair, motherfucker, there will be no saving your ass. I'll pull a bone out of it."
She couldn't believe what she was watching. The five females walked over to Carlos and stood behind him as the other male bulked but he still didn't make a move.
"Like I said, man. I didn't know," the club owner said.
"Knowledge is power," Carlos said in a deep rumble that made the females come nearer to him, tilt their heads, close their eyes, and inhale his scent.
"Oh, Carlos... We had been looking for you, baby. Where you been?" one tall, voluptuous, female said, her island lilt pouring over him.
"Later," Carlos said. "Back up off me while I'm handling my business."
Later? Damali bristled as she watched the vamp flash her man a hint of fang, her br**sts practically falling out of her red halter dress as she smiled and backed away. Damn hoochie had her double-D tits up in his face, and the Latina chick with the black patent leather bondage gear was gonna make her slap her if she tossed that long, silky pony-tail seductively one more time. Yeah, that blonde had betta recognize, too.
"How'd you feed?" the new club owner asked.
"That's my business," Carlos said, his tone icy. He gave the other vampire a stare that practically turned him to stone. "We understand each other?"
"You fed from her?" The blond female asked, her glare narrowing on Damali.
"Respect," Carlos said calmly, nodding toward Damali. "Don't come into my lair, unless I call you. She brought me back. Chill."
What? Now she was going to air this whole joint out. What did Unless I call you mean? Had he lost his mind? And hadn't he told those females to back off?
She watched them move away from Carlos, confusion crossing their faces. Then they glared at her. The venom in their glares felt like daggers piercing her body. That was cool, too. She would gladly handle them.