Dark Carousel (Dark #30) - Christine Feehan Page 0,8

so they had that going in their favor. The three men were very good-looking and clearly used to easy conquests. Twice Charlotte had indicated to Daniel she wasn’t looking to hook up with anyone and he should move on to a sure thing. She had hoped, in the beginning, that he was interested in her only because she presented a challenge. Now she knew better.

Genevieve reluctantly took out her phone, but instead of handing it over, she programed Vince’s number in herself. Charlotte caught her arm as she passed her, already on her way out the door. She lifted a hand at the three men as Daniel protested, pulling out his phone.

“Seriously?” Charlotte smiled at him and waved. “You have an entire smorgasbord of hot women fawning all over you.” They had to move and they had to move fast. She knew the men would follow them, and that meant disappearing before they got outside. They’d have to get to their car, get out of the parking garage and find a place to hide, then wait for the men to come out.

“I didn’t spend all evening sitting with them,” Daniel protested.

“Maybe we’ll see you next time,” Charlotte said and deliberately hurried into the crowd, heading for the door. “Come on, Genevieve. We have to get the car and fast. We don’t have much time.”

Genevieve nodded, already fishing for her keys in her purse.

2

There were all kinds of ways to hunt for his quarry. Tariq Asenguard stared down from the balcony at the masses of people below. He and his partner, Maksim Volkov, had long ago converted the palatial theater into a dance club to bring in the crowds. He could stand up above them and look down all the way through four stories at the gyrating bodies below him.

Tariq had drawn up the plans for the renovations himself, making certain that the center was open, so one could see each dance floor and bar when looking over the railings to the floors below. The arrangement was unique, and customers loved it and returned as often as possible. The only place he couldn’t see was the basement, which he’d renovated for use as an underground club for the goth, grunge and vampire lovers that came out at night to live their lives the way they chose, accepted by others like them.

Every floor had a different type of music and drew in a large variety of people. The more diverse, the better for him. The better his hunting. He could hear their heartbeats and the blood pounding in their veins, calling to him. It was easy to hunt in the confines of the building with so many bodies packed in close.

He could use the eager men or women for sustenance when he was in need. It was easy enough to portray the image of the city’s resident playboy with a woman on either arm. He was slowly building a reputation. A rich, eligible bachelor, co-owner of one of the hottest nightclubs in the city. Women flocked to him. That was exactly the result he’d wanted when he’d come up with the idea. He had four other clubs in various cities, and each had a different partner, one who watched over the club while he was at his main residence.

The design with the opening in the center of the dance floors was even more important now that he knew his greatest enemies had invaded his city. Vampires had gone underground. These weren’t the undead of old. They were thinking, technology-using, planning-a-war vampires. Sophisticated and organized. Tariq could scan minds for news of bizarre killings signaling the possibility of a vampire close, one taking over the humans in the area in order to create an army aboveground.

“Anything new?” Maksim came up behind him. He gripped the balcony and leaned down to observe the mass of bodies dancing on each floor below them.

“No. That worries me more than if I’d discovered someone tainted.” Tariq inhaled sharply. Frowned. “There is a scent . . .” He trailed off.

“Sweat,” Maksim said with a wry smile.

Tariq had no sense of humor. For him, there was no riot of color as he looked down on the men and women dancing. He saw only a dull gray. He felt . . . nothing. He lived to hunt. To kill. Even in the doing of that, he felt . . . nothing. He inhaled again, and once more, it was there. That scent. Calling to him. Making his heart pound. Pumping