Tao was one of the strongest people I knew, but he was obviously struggling. And I knew, deep down, that there was a very real possibility that we might yet lose him to the monster that resided within.
* * *
In the end, I decided against leaving Amaya behind. Lucian might fear the sorcerer's reaction to her, but I wasn't about to walk into the unknown without the means to fully protect myself. And if that meant that the sorcerer walked, then so be it.
Maxwell's, it turned out, was more than just a lovely little bar situated at the upscale end of Collins Street. It also happened to be an extremely discreet wolf club.
Not that you could tell from merely stepping inside the place. It appeared to be nothing more than a very stylish, very elegant bar that catered to humans and non-humans alike. The surrounds—old-world architecture, luxurious leather couches, and a stunning marble bar—gave it the feel of a gentlemen's club, although overall it was far more friendly and welcoming.
It was only the faintest trace of sex and desire stirring lazily through the air that gave the game away and, even then, it was only an occasional tease.
I briefly contemplated walking out, but if I did that, I might throw away our one and only chance to talk to someone with the skill to either stop or mute the transmitter in my heart. We needed to at least hear our options before we declined them.
Although if I was being completely honest, the real reason I didn't walk out was that I was intrigued. I'd never heard of Maxwell's—not even a whisper on the grapevine—which meant whoever ran it maintained extreme control. And that made me wonder why. Franklin's—the private wolf club I was a member of—was also very discreet, but it was not unknown in the wolf world, and I imagined it catered to the same sort of upmarket clientele.
A waiter approached, a polite smile creasing his pleasant features. "Welcome to Maxwell's, ma'am. Are you here for a casual drink, or would you prefer a seat in our restaurant?"
I hesitated. "I'm here to meet a friend—Mr. Lucian Dupont—but I'm not sure whether he's booked a table or not."
"Ah yes, Mr. Dupont said you might be late. He and his other guest have been here for just over an hour." Though there was no censure in his voice, it was nevertheless a gentle rebuke. Obviously, one did not keep members waiting. Amusement teased my lips as he motioned a waitress forward. "Amy will show you to the private dining area."
Was "private dining" a euphemism for the werewolf section? I guessed I'd find out soon enough. I followed the willowy waitress through the main bar and up the stairs. The third floor held the wolf club, if the strengthening smell of sex and lust was anything to go by, but we didn't stop there. We went on, up to the fourth floor, then along a corridor that had darkly stained wood-panel doors at regular intervals. She stopped at the seventh one and knocked politely. "Your final guest has arrived, Mr. Dupont."
"Please send her in," Lucian replied, in a cool and authoritative tone. The high-end investment adviser, not the lover.
I wasn't sure whether to be pleased or annoyed.
The woman keyed open the door and waved me inside. As the door closed behind me, I paused and looked around. I'd half expected some sort of private boudoir, but it was actually set up as a plush but comfortable dining room. A mahogany table dominated the space but, oddly, there were only two chairs. Maybe dark sorcerers didn't eat. Or maybe I wasn't invited to eat. He might be taking the "behave yourself" request to a whole new level.