Her Vampire Addiction - Tabitha Black Page 0,58

smile. I wonder if I’ve done something to upset him, or he’s just having a bad night. The brunette certainly doesn’t look too happy.

My bag vibrates at my hip and I close my eyes, well aware that there’s only one person who would message me at this time of night—aside from Maximus, who’s right here with me. Turning around so my back is to the bar and my vampire gladiator (as I’ve taken to calling him in my head), I fish my phone out of my purse and flick the screen on.

Fucking leech whore.

I stare at the letters, trying to make sense of them. This is the second time Zeke has referred to leeches and I wonder what the hell he’s talking about. He likes to smoke a joint on occasion, so the first time he used the term, I figured maybe it was a typo or autocorrect of some kind. Twice, however, is too much of a coincidence.

“Zeke?” Maximus’s voice in my ear makes me jump about three feet into the air.

“Shit, you scared me!” I stammer.

“Language,” he says.

I glare at him, flicking my phone off.

“I asked you a question,” he goes on, his voice taking on that low, forceful tone. “Did you get another message from Zeke?”

“Is that girl okay?” I deflect, indicating the direction of the bar with a lift of my chin. “She looked very upset.”

“She had a nasty encounter with our old friend, Ethan,” Maximus says, and a look of regret flicks over his handsome face.

“Ugh. That slimy creep. He’s a vampire too, isn’t he?”

“Hush, not so loud.” Maximus has explained to me that the majority of club visitors don’t know that not all Toxic employees or guests are human. The existence of so many vampires clustered together in Tucson is a closely guarded secret only shared with trusted regulars and lovers. I wanted to ask him why he’d allowed me to find out so soon after meeting him—especially after he told me that they’re actually able to wipe a person’s mind, essentially removing their memories of a specific event—but if I’m honest, I was afraid of the answer.

“Sorry,” I whisper. “Did you find him? Bar him from the club?”

There’s a pause. Then, “Let’s just say he won’t assault any more girls.”

A prickle of fear tingles up my spine as his words sink in. “You killed him?” Surely he didn’t. He wouldn’t.

Maximus’s face is grim. “I won’t lie to you, Sabina. Yes, I did.”

The room begins to spin and I wobble. He catches me in a fluid, practiced motion and leads me to the quiet corner where he usually sits. I lean against the wall, trying to process what he’s just told me. Even though I’ve been kind of worried that he’d do the same to Zeke, I don’t think I ever really genuinely thought him capable of it until now. I mean, I know he’s killed before—he was a soldier, for god’s sake—but this is the twenty-first century. You don’t just murder a guy because he hassled two women in a nightclub. If everyone did that, there’d be almost no men left in the world.

“Pet?” Maximus has me by the shoulders, watching me intently. “It had to be done. I did warn him not to come back.”

“I need a drink.” Or five. “Could you please get me something strong? A shot?”

“Only if you sit down while you wait for me.” He drags over a stool and I perch on it obediently. “Don’t move.”

I watch him slink off through the throng of club guests, my mind reeling. This past week has been like a dream: insane chemistry, incredible sex, deep tenderness. And I realize that even though I’ve known what Maximus is for several days now, that knowledge was essentially just theoretical. I romanticized it in my head in order to deal with it. Now, after one simple admission, reality has finally sunk in.

He’s a monster. A real life, genuine, bona fide monster.

I look at my surroundings through fresh eyes. The suited, attractive men who are here luring in unsuspecting victims under the guise of BDSM. The stunning women who go with them willingly, usually with no idea of who their play partners really are.

Zeke is a jerk, but he doesn’t deserve to die. And if he knows the truth behind this place, even though I can’t see how he would have found out, maybe he really is just trying to warn me—to protect me, even though he’s going about it entirely the wrong way.

My