leave.”
I bent over and kissed him full on the mouth. His mouth was still under mine. I looked back at Vittorio. “A dancer, freed.”
“No.”
“What was wrong with this kiss?”
“Kiss him like you mean it.” There was no humor in him now, just a seriousness that I thought was more dangerous.
I stared down at Max. He was mostly bald, and round of face, but his biceps were huge, his shoulders deeply muscled. He’d begun life as an enforcer, and he’d stayed in shape for it. I could see his strength, but he just didn’t do it for me. I liked my men pretty and a little refined. Max was like a bully-big, scary, and nothing delicate about him-but I bent over him one more time. I touched his face, closed my eyes, and kissed him. Delicate, at first, then with more pressure, letting my arms slide over the hard, muscled bareness of him, and putting some body English into it. Max was absolutely still against me. Bibiana was making a high-pitched sound through the tape.
I turned to Vittorio.
“Very well, one dancer, but I want the next effort to be better, or the deal is off. Ava will choose who goes free, and Sergeant-Rocco, is it?-will watch from the door that the dancer gets away.”
Ava went out, Rocco watched from the door, and apparently they let a dancer go because Rocco came back nodding yes.
“I’ll give you a two-for-one deal,” Vittorio said. “Let the little dancer over there give you a lap dance; if it’s good, I’ll free her and another dancer.”
I walked over to Brianna without hesitation, but once I got there, I asked him, “What do you want to learn from making me do this?”
“Maybe I’m just like all men and have my little lesbian fantasies.”
“I don’t know what to say to that.”
“Sit in the chair by Ava.”
I sat in the chair; it didn’t hurt me, and I didn’t want to give them another excuse to hurt anyone. “Untie the girl.”
Ava did what she was told. Brianna took her own tape off her mouth, then looked at me. Her makeup had run down her face like black tears. She rubbed at her wrists and took a shaking step toward me in her spike-heeled sandals.
“I’m offering you the best tip you will ever get, Brianna. Give the marshal a lap dance, and if it’s good enough, I’ll set you and another of your friends free.”
Brianna took another staggering step toward me. I thought,
Brianna dropped her robe to the ground and was in front of me. “Wait,” Vittorio said. We both looked at him. “Sergeant, take Anita’s place; let her dance for you.”
Rocco just started walking toward us. I got up, he sat down, and Brianna started to dance. She had no music, but whatever was playing in her head was something with a beat. She started a little jerky, but then closed her eyes and found her rhythm. It was a nice rhythm. She moved her body in waves up and down Rocco-who had a death grip on the chair he was sitting in, because the rules are the dancers can touch you, but you can’t touch the dancers.
Brianna ended up in his lap, straddling him, grinding her most intimate parts over the front of his pants. His face looked grim, and I was betting he was trying to think of baseball, taxes, dead kittens, anything but what the woman in his lap was doing.
I felt both sorry for him and happy it wasn’t me.
With a last writhe, she bowed herself backward, completely, her legs wrapped around Rocco and the chair itself. She bent back in a graceful arch, her high, tight breasts spilling backward, proving yet again that they were real.
Vittorio actually clapped. “Very good, and the sergeant has held his composure admirably. Flee, little dancer. Anita, watch her go to safety; I don’t think our dear sergeant can walk just yet.”
Brianna picked up her robe and went for the door as fast as her high heels could take her. “Pick another dancer to go out with you, Brianna.” She picked up the pace. I kept the door open and watched her go to the nearest dancer, grab her by the hand, and run out the door with her.
I did a quick head count. We had six dancers left. Six, and then we could get rid of the jinn and try to kill Vittorio. Just six more.
“I make the dancers entertain me before I kill them, Anita. I don’t usually let them go, though.”
“So this is part of your… usual.” I stopped there because any word I could come up with sounded too much like an insult.
“Yes.” He got up and walked to Rick. “I could control him, but only in part. I can’t control him or Victor completely as I can the others. They are too dominant, too much tiger. I could make either of them my servant through marks, but I cannot own them as I own the ones in the corner.” He moved so fast, it was barely visible.
Rocco said, “He mind-fucked me.”
“No, he didn’t,” I said, “he’s just that fast.”
Vittorio was standing back where he started, by the time the blood started trickling down Rick’s stomach.
“You didn’t ask us to do anything,” I said.
“So I didn’t. Ava, let another whore go.”
Ava just went to the door, and I watched as she tapped another woman. The woman ran out the door in a flashing square of sunlight. Five left.
“Anita, drink blood from the wound I just made on the weretiger.”
I didn’t like this one, but I went to Rick and knelt in front of him. The cut was just above the pants line, so I could reach. I was betting the placement hadn’t been accidental.
I put my hands on his belt to steady myself, then leaned up and licked the wound. It was blood, hot, salty, metallic. I put my mouth against the wound and sucked. It was sweet copper pennies on my tongue. But it was more than that, it was belly meat, soft, above the muscles, and that feeling that just underneath were soft, tender things. My hands locked around the back of his body, and I fought to only suck the wound, not bite down, not take more flesh. I drew back from the wound with a shaky breath. I felt dizzy, disoriented. I realized for the first time that though I’d fed on all the men this morning, Vittorio had taken all the energy of it. Beyond that, he’d taken more of my energy, so I was actually behind the curve. Fuck.
I got to my feet, having to steady myself against Rick’s body as I stood. I wiped my mouth with my hand, and knew I needed a rag or something to get the blood.
“Most people would have hesitated before drinking a lycanthrope’s blood,” Vittorio said.
“If we hesitate, you hurt them.”
“Ava, another dancer.” This time Rocco watched the hostage leave. Only four now.
He paced in a circle, tapping the blade against his leg. “I must come up with things that displease you, or I will run out of hostages before I get to hurt anyone again.” He turned to me with a huge smile. It tugged at the burned side of his face, so that the smile didn’t quite work. “Suck on something else; you can pick any of the men, just bring them. To give you more incentive, I’ll use the holy water on your fair friend again if you refuse.”
I looked from Rick to Requiem. “May I ask a question?”
“You may.”
“Has Requiem fed?”
“No.”
“Then you know he can’t go orally or any other way until he’s taken blood.”
“Then you are left with only two choices unless you wish to include the sergeant.”
I fought not to look as uncomfortable as that extra suggestion made me. “Max hasn’t fed this morning either, so it has to be Rick. You’re only pretending to give me choices.”
“Then do him.” He was standing by Requiem now, and I realized that there was a line of holy water vials on the table above his head.
