the people of our queendom gather to celebrate their savior and protector. During those performances, no man has ever gyrated against a woman in such a sexual manner. Certainly none has never put his hand there and kept his most treasured appendage.
A man walks up to me. He licks his lips as he regards me. His teeth are flat, not a fang in sight. So he doesn’t want to bite me. He’s moving his hips to the beat of the song.
Does he want me to dance? I don’t know the steps. Looking out on the dance floor, I see there doesn’t appear to be any coordination in the movements.
He must assume I’m shy or confused, so he puts his hand on my hip. I stiffen. The queen has always said that men are filthy creatures. I don’t enjoy the sweaty smell of this one. But I’m here to have an experience.
His hand slides down my hip. When it snakes around the back, my patience for diplomacy comes to a screeching halt. I hiss, flashing my fangs. A crack sounds over the music, and I hear the cry of a little girl in pain. It’s my dance partner. His arm is broken.
“Princess Sanai?”
I turn to find the large male who let me into the club looming over me. His hands are up, palms facing out towards me. It’s a show of non-aggression.
“I’m sorry,” I say, remembering the manners my human mother taught me before I became a vampire princess. “Was he yours?”
“Uh, no,” the man says. He lowers his hands and his shirt shifts, revealing the tattoo of a wolf paw on his shoulder.
So, he is a wolf shifter. He makes a motion for me to hand over the handsy human. As I hand him over, I see there is a rip in my dress.
“I’ll make sure Frangelico gets the bill for the damage. In the meantime, I believe your party is already here in the private room the queen requested.”
Oh, the private room? That’s what I’m supposed to ensure we aren’t charged for. But the Serranos are already here? So, it appears we will be charged anyway. Might as well take the meeting. Perhaps I could ease the way for the queen’s negotiations tomorrow night?
All around me, the party commences as though nothing happened. Humans rarely process things that don’t please them. I’m taken to a hidden entrance at the side of the club. The curtains fall back and I am enveloped in red as far as the eye can see. But that’s not what turns my fangs to sharp points.
I know of the sexual act. I’ve read about it in books, seen glimpses of it on the film recordings I’ve had smuggled into our desert oasis, and seen grainy and blurred snippets on the poor-quality internet I’ve dialed into. But I’ve never witnessed it live.
There’s a lot of nudity. Women are naked, with tight nipples and reddened asses. There’s also a nude male, his private parts under lock and key. I cock my head, trying to get a glimpse of his package to no avail.
“Mr. Serrano is just in here,” says the woman who led me down into this well of sin. She has a button nose and perky ears that remind me of a kitten. I wonder if she’s a cat shifter?
She said Mr. Serrano is here. One of the three infamous brothers is behind the door in front of me. The escapades of those brothers during the time of the Spanish Inquisition is legendary. They were known to torture victims sexually, a method known to sweeten the blood of humans. A male such as that could easily seduce an innocent such as me. I should back away from this door and return to the sanctuary of my queen.
I reach past the tiny hostess and turn the knob myself. Beyond the doorway, I see the most delicious male I’ve ever encountered. His dark hair is tousled in a devil may care fashion. The fabric of his legs is molded to him, showing off his fit form. He wears a vest and jacket, but I can tell there is muscle beneath those layers.
Serrano takes me in, as well. His dark eyes start at the hem of my dress and travel upward. I have the urge to lift my skirts to give him a better look. My nipples harden when his gaze reaches my bodice. They push at the roped fabric, aiming to climb their way out of my top.