The ocelot inside me fought to be freed. Lucas was playing with fire. He thought he was untouchable since he was a member of the council. I had nothing but respect for the council. I owed them a lot.
When my hometown had been burned down and all the people killed to include my family, it was the council who found me and took me in. I never went without food or shelter. They gave me the best education, survival skills, and a life I wouldn’t have had without them. If it weren’t for them, I most likely wouldn’t have survived long on my own, after my parents were killed.
“Yes. A fucking her. The council wants her head,” Lucas spat.
“It’s a woman. What threat could she possibly–” I began to ask
“You don’t ask questions. You do as you’re told. Got it?” Lucas snapped.
The bag of chips I was holding became crumbs when I balled my hand into a fist. My claws and canines extended. I wanted blood. Lucas’ blood. The mother fucker had a lot of fucking balls. It was only a matter of time before I’d have his fucking head. That’s why I became an enforcer. It kept me away from the council. Away from Lucas and the others who treated me like an outsider.
“Got it?” Lucas repeated. I took several deep breaths before even attempting to answer him. “Are you listening to me?”
“I hear you,” I said between clenched teeth. “Loud and clear.”
“Good. I’ll text you the picture and information. Don’t fuck up,” he said before hanging up on me.
A deep roar escaped me. If anyone heard me, they’d think there was a wild animal in my room. And they’d be right because I was now shifted into my ocelot form.
My claws dug into the pillow ferociously as I let out some steam over Lucas. Pillow stuffing flew all around me and throughout the room. Shredding the pillow wasn’t satisfying enough. I needed to stretch my legs and go for a run to clear my mind; however, this part of Michigan had the scent of wolves and other cat shifters throughout it. I didn’t want to take the risk of entering one of their territories without realizing it. For now, the cheap-ass pillows would have to do.
I was in no rush to find the albino, but after Lucas sent me the picture of the female and the address, I quickly changed my mind.
I parked my bike and stared up at the neon lights on the building that read Banshee’s Babes. A strip club. Most albinos lived under the radar. Not this one. Koroleva Liutik apparently had bigger balls than most men because she didn’t bother hiding. She worked at a strip club where a lot of hardcore bikers hung out.
When I made my way inside, the smell of cigarettes, weed, and shifters hit me like a ton of bricks. The combination of the scents made my stomach flip. I had been on the road for days and didn’t have to worry about many other scents so the strip club was a bit much. Plus, there were flashing lights, loud music, and people walking around. The whole environment made me uneasy.
“Can I get you a drink, handsome?” a waitress asked, stepping in front of me.
She had short blonde hair that reminded me of the little fairy on those cartoons. Her skin was spray-on tan orange. Her black corset-looking contraption made her tits almost spill out. She thrust her chest closer to me. I took a step back.
“Rum and Coke. I’ll be over…” I looked around the club and found an empty table by one of the side stages. I pointed at the table. “I’ll be over there.”
“Rum and Coke coming right up, handsome,” she smiled flirtily, turned and strutted over to the bar. Her ass was small and hanging out of her barely-there black spandex shorts.
Fucking strip clubs, I complained then made my way over to the table and sat down.
The song ended at almost the same time I sat down. It went from American Badass to I’m in Love with a Stripper. I rolled my eyes. It was a cliché fucking song for a strip club.
A tall African-American woman with long braids came onto the main stage. She wore a hot pink getup and huge heeled hooker shoes. She smiled vixen-like at the men who were whooping and hollering from around the stage as she began her routine.
A petite Asian woman with black hair pulled up stepped onto the stage closest to my table. She wore a schoolgirl outfit, librarian glasses, and black hooker heels. She looked at me and smiled softly then turned her attention to the pole, in the center of the stage.
“Here you go, handsome,” the waitress said, placing my drink in front of me. I had heard her walk up, but my attention was on the stripper. I found her fascinating. Not out of horniness but out of curiosity. Her eyes held a story in them.
“Thanks. What do I owe you?” I asked digging into my pants’ pocket and pulled out a five.
“Two dollars,” she replied and stepped in between my sight of the stage. She leaned forward giving me a full view of cleavage. I rolled my eyes and handed her the five.
“Keep the change.”
“Aren’t you sweet,” she smiled. “Maybe we can talk after my shift? It’s over in an hour.”
“I’m sure you’re a nice girl and all...” I lied. There was nothing nice about this woman. She was the kind of woman who would sink her claws into you and take you to the cleaners. “I’m just here for a drink.”
“But, you can definitely have more than a drink, if you wanted one,” she purred. “A lot more.”
“I appreciate the offer, but–”
“I’m amazing with my tongue… mind-blowing in fact.”
Fuck, I groaned to myself. She wasn’t my type, but it had been a while since I had a blowjob. She probably had
