Vampire Trinity (51 page)
Authors: Joey W. Hill
He’d made a calculated risk by visibly arming himself, counting on vampire arrogance. He waited impassively to see if he’d made a mistake as they had him open the coat so they could see the shoulder harness for the steel knives and gun.
“My servant is protective of me,” she noted with an indulgent smile. “But I expect I won’t have any problems here.”
“No,” the doorman said. “There’s not much he could do against us. He can keep his pretty toys. Good-quality knives,” he noted with a soldier’s approval.
Gideon thought of the thirty-six vampires like this smug bastard, the ones he’d staked in a variety of unexpected ways. It helped him keep his expression neutral as he inclined his head and followed Anwyn into the bowels of the Coffin.
It was the typical Goth club with a vampire fetish, almost a cliché, though a classy and expensive one. Lots of vampire paraphernalia, like the useless garlic cloves and many flashing silver and gold crosses hanging from the rafters. If someone came in with a cross, they were encouraged to loop it over the beams, a playful admission that they were throwing any protection for their souls away as they entered. Gideon saw a wide variety up there, everything from cheap pewter costume wear to crosses that might have been given to a kid as a graduation gift and lost in a moment of drunken stupidity. He didn’t doubt that among them were crosses the vampires had placed there, sly trophies of actual kills amid harmless props.
True to the modus operandi of a smart bad guy, other transgressions in the club were kept to a minimum. He didn’t see any indications of hard-drug users, dealers or professionals hustling the crowd. He didn’t suspect these vamps feared law enforcement, though. Police were just an annoying inconvenience that could ruin the sweet deal they’d built here. No kills would ever be connected to this place. They’d be found far from these hallowed doors, if at all. He’d seen enough of this kind of vampire to know right away these guys killed when they wanted to kill, not at Council discretion or in respect of the “twelve human deaths per year allowed” rule. And Stephen covered for them so they’d do his dirty work. Asshole, conniving-prick weasel.
Anwyn had stopped, staring up at the crosses. She grazed her fingers along them, so that they moved against one another like wind chimes.
You’d expect the gateway to Hell to look like this. Childishly whimsical and horrible at once.
You’d expect the gateway to Hell to look like this. Childishly whimsical and horrible at once.
Can you hear him, Anwyn?
He moved closer, concerned about the tone of her mind, but she glanced over her shoulder at him with clear eyes, even as she took her hand down, scraped those nails high on his thigh, teasing at his groin.
He moved closer, concerned about the tone of her mind, but she glanced over her shoulder at him with clear eyes, even as she took her hand down, scraped those nails high on his thigh, teasing at his groin.
No. Either he’s not answering because he doesn’t want us here, or he’s unconscious.
Well, tell the bastard we’re not leaving until we find him, so if he’s awake, he might as well help us out so we’re not walking in blind.
He dipped his head, kissed her shoulder beneath the cloth of the snug dress, nuzzled until she pushed him away with studied indifference, and moved onward.
He dipped his head, kissed her shoulder beneath the cloth of the snug dress, nuzzled until she pushed him away with studied indifference, and moved onward.
As he’d noted, it was a thinning crowd because of the late hour, so it made her that much more noticeable. Anwyn sauntered without any obvious haste, taking advantage of it. As if she were at a gallery, she studied the slaves who’d been hung on meat hooks with leather straps. Most were being tormented in some way by their Doms, or whoever they allowed to touch them. She was granted the invitation to touch by almost every Master and Mistress. Occasionally she took the opportunity.
With a curve of those mysterious lips, she slid her knuckles oh-so-lightly down a male thigh, caressed or weighed quivering testicles in her palm. Once, she bent to touch her lips to the sweat-slick abdomen of a young woman, so near climax that the kiss almost set her off, earning her the whip of her pleased Mistress. No matter the vampire dynamic, the hard-core could tell what Anwyn was. It was like recognizing royalty, and treating her accordingly. When she turned her gaze to any slave, they attuned to her, almost before their Dom or Domme directed them to do so.
It was an admirable strategy. She knew she was under scrutiny, and not by the club patrons. Somewhere, someone was watching, and she was calling him to her as skillfully as any sorceress, challenging a more experienced wizard to come put her in her place.
A dangerous and mesmerizing game, because he knew what she was attracting, and what their endgame was. Gideon divided his focus between her and a constant surveillance of his surroundings, which would be expected since he was already recognized as combat trained. He noted exits, obstacles, crowd groupings. Within them, he separated staff from clients, vampires from humans.
While he did, he said little in his mind, and neither did she. It wasn’t necessary. Their minds were in perfect sync, an open radio channel waiting. Of course, thanks to her goading in the car and that synchronization, his body was no less susceptible to her magic than any other slave, hard and aching despite their purpose here.
I’ve seen the spy shows on television, Gideon. Everyone knows the best covers are those that are the closest to the truth.
That seductive tone, spinning him into her web. Every touch she dispensed, every look she gave, sent a wash of heat through him. He’d moved closer to her, so that her shoulder blades brushed his chest when she shifted. She was aware of him behind her, the protection and the offer at once. He was still just as alert to his surroundings, still cognizant of why they were there, but by falling into her natural role, just as he’d suggested, she’d brought him into it with her.
Turning into him, she threaded her hand through his hair, taking a tight hold, and yanked him down to her mouth for a hot kiss. Her tongue worked his as deftly as if she were sucking his cock, giving him that mental image to fog his antennae before she sank her fangs into the side of his mouth, from inside the cheek and outside, puncturing between the two.
The pain was excruciating, the nerve clusters there dense enough to render him almost insensible for a second, his fingers automatically clutching her hips in protest. Yet he didn’t try to pull away from her. Later he would realize he wouldn’t have, even if they were standing in the middle of her club at home, no threat to him but how she could make him into this. Her slave, willing to do anything to give her pleasure. She licked the blood away, soothing and abrading the throbbing ache at once, and dropped her hand to cup his balls in the snug jeans, massaging him there.
You know I could just squeeze, crush them and make you a eunuch forever?
What good would that do you, Mistress?
He jerked his head up then, met her gaze with fire. Her grip tightened until it became painful, until he had to let out a gasp, which he strangled down to a growl.
He jerked his head up then, met her gaze with fire. Her grip tightened until it became painful, until he had to let out a gasp, which he strangled down to a growl.
You wouldn’t ever look at another woman without my permission.
He couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d punched him in the face. He’d been watching her kiss the naked slave, and sure, he’d have to be dead not to appreciate the wondrous variety of tits available at eye level every which way he looked. Big, small, jiggling, firm, clamped, pierced . . .
Jesus.
He sucked in a breath as that flesh-and-bone nutcracker increased its grip.
He sucked in a breath as that flesh-and-bone nutcracker increased its grip.
“Perhaps,” she murmured against his mouth, “I should make you drop your pants, walk with them around your ankles as if you were a shuffling prisoner, and let all these women have equal time to ogle your big cock, your fine ass, and wonder if I might give it to one of them. Or . . . perhaps you should apologize and keep your eyes down, on my feet, until I tell you whether you have my permission to look at
anything
.”
anything
.”
He could tell nothing from her mind, because now it was filled with this. The vampire side of her, strong and in full force, a herald of what she would become if she could pull it out so easily now. There was a vicious undercurrent to it that suggested she was letting her bloodlust rise. Or it was rising, whether she wanted it to do so or not. If he assumed the former, since the latter just couldn’t happen right now or they were all dead, the question was: Was this real, or was there an ulterior motive? It helped convince those watching that she was absorbed in the pleasures of the club, for sure, and that she was a badass vampire, but the intent he felt pulsing from her was very real. As was the response he gave her.
“I’d rather spend the rest of my life staring at your beautiful legs and ass than at any other woman.”
“I said my feet.”
“That, too. But my gaze has an unavoidable range, Mistress.” He flinched when she caught the back of his nape and sank her fangs into that same spot beside his mouth again. Fuck, if the Council ever decided they needed a torturer as well as an assassin, he’d have a great candidate.
“Your feet, Mistress,” he grated out when she released him. “I’ll keep my eyes on your feet.”
She stroked the hair at his neck with deceptive tenderness. “See that you do. Or I’ll shove something the size of your fist up your ass and make you keep it there all night so you remember it.”
“Breaking in a servant is always a pleasure and a curse at once, isn’t it?”
Anwyn slowly pivoted on her heel, using Gideon’s body as a wall, leaning against him. Crossing her ankles, she reached back with both arms to take a nice grip on the part she’d just been threatening, rubbing herself against his cock in a sly little move as she tossed her hair again, lashing his neck with it. It gave the approaching vampire an eyeful of thrusting breast, the taunting impression that she was bound, when she was not.
“More pleasure than curse, truly,” she said. “You must be the owner.”
“Xavier.” The male moved forward from the shadows and Gideon kept his eyes down, though Anwyn sent him a clear enough picture. A big motherfucker, tall as Daegan, but not lean and graceful. This one looked exactly like what he was, the most dangerous possible combination. A thug with a brain, his intelligence showing through the burning clarity in his gaze. “Mistress Anwyn, let me welcome you to my club properly.”
He moved faster than she or Gideon could anticipate. One second, they were standing; the next, Gideon stifled a curse as he was slammed against a wall. Anwyn was still in front of him, only now she was mashed between Gideon’s body and Xavier’s. He had his hand collared around her throat, his thumb forcing her chin up.
“You don’t draw blood in my club, fledgling. It attracts unnecessary attention.” Bending, he licked the corner of Anwyn’s mouth where Gideon’s blood had been. Anwyn trembled, managing to pull it off as a shudder of desire, but Gideon knew differently. One blatant movement, forcing her in between the two of them, and those shadow creatures were trying to drag her down, take her back into an alley. The stench of vampires and blood all around her, no escape, no ability to move, seeing what was coming.
I’m here, Anwyn. It’s not the alley. We’re here to help Daegan. He’s just testing you. You know it. Remember, Daegan is here. We have to find Daegan.
Xavier had maneuvered them so quickly, her hands were still gripping Gideon’s ass, but now she shifted her grip so her thumbs hooked his belt, holding on for support and reminder, not provocation. Gideon would have given anything to offer her more, but he had to settle for the slightest movement of his thumb along one hip, his breath at the crown of her head, his heart pounding steadily between her shoulder blades. He didn’t allow himself to think anything. He couldn’t descend into the rage that normally would have taken him over, or get trapped by the helpless fury that he couldn’t help her right now. He reminded himself, and her by proxy, that they were in charge of this situation, regardless, because Xavier didn’t know why they were here.
You’re the scariest bitch imaginable when you want to be, whether you’re facing man or bloodsucker.
She got that message, loud and clear. Her finger loosened on his belt, though she continued to hold it. “My apologies, Master Xavier.” She tilted her head, her hair whispering over his beefy knuckles, their continued grip on her throat. “Unlike you, we allow bloodletting at Atlantis, under controlled circumstances. Even before I became a vampire. Do you usually handle Mistresses as if they’re your personal slaves? I don’t think I’d get repeat business at my club if I allowed that.”
Her voice didn’t shake now. She even managed to convey cool disdain.
Xavier gazed down at her. It was taking everything Gideon had to stay still, be her submissive wall, when that hand still rested on her throat, the male’s saliva probably still drying on the corner of her mouth. But it was then he felt it. A pulsing rage coming through her, fuzzy and somewhat disoriented, but unmistakable in its homicidal intent.
Daegan was alive. And murderously awake.
18
H
IS reaction to their presence was also unmistakable, strong enough that Gideon wasn’t entirely sure if the rage was directed at Xavier for touching Anwyn, or at the two of them, for trying to come after him. Anwyn’s mind was still open to his, so that he heard the flood of thoughts. It alarmed him, how disjointed they sounded.
IS reaction to their presence was also unmistakable, strong enough that Gideon wasn’t entirely sure if the rage was directed at Xavier for touching Anwyn, or at the two of them, for trying to come after him. Anwyn’s mind was still open to his, so that he heard the flood of thoughts. It alarmed him, how disjointed they sounded.
Run . . . Don’t . . . Can’t protect. Where . . . How got here . . .
His voice faded away.
His voice faded away.
He’s been weakened somehow.
Anwyn’s thought, laced with anger and apprehension, stiffened her body against Xavier’s touch more than even her cool response should have warranted.
Anwyn’s thought, laced with anger and apprehension, stiffened her body against Xavier’s touch more than even her cool response should have warranted.
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