“Fair enough,” I told him “Though, if I bat my eyelashes and call you Leo, will I have to worry about you docking my pay?”
That drew a small huff of amusement, though I could tell that even now, only part of his attention was on the conversation.
“No promises,” was all he said. “Now, would you care for a drink first, or shall we head down?”
The last thing I intended to do tonight was get drunk. “I’m good, thanks. Unless you want one?”
He eyed me. “Maybe later.”
Trying not to worry about what else ‘later’ might bring, I pasted on a cheery smile. “Then let’s get this arm candy party started, shall we?”
Leonides gave a nod of easy agreement, and ushered me outside to the elevator with a cool hand resting at the small of my back.
* * *
The job of arm candy for a loaded nightclub owner was... actually rather enjoyable, at least for the first hour and a half or so. After that, boredom started to creep in. I was briefly worried that I should have some sort of plausible back-story prepared to explain how we’d met, but it turned out I’d been vastly overestimating how interested anyone was in my presence at Leonides’ side.
I carted a Shirley Temple around in my free hand and pretended to drink it. Beyond that, I just smiled a lot while attempting to ignore how sore my feet were becoming in my four-inch stiletto heels, and people-watched to pass the time. The clientele was interesting enough—it was clear that the Vixen’s Den didn’t allow just anyone through the door. Mostly, though, I found myself trying to get a better read on the man next to me. It was surprisingly difficult to do.
His proprietary interest in the club was clear enough, but I didn’t get the impression he got any actual pleasure out of the place... not until a spotlight came up, centered on the low stage at one end of the large space. It illuminated a three-piece jazz band with a middle-aged female vocalist at the front. They started to play, the notes flowing as smooth and smoky as top-shelf bourbon.
Patrons and business concerns forgotten, Leonides stood at the bar with his eyes closed, letting the music flow over him. This, apparently, was the reason for his ownership of the place—not the glad-handing or the prestige or the write-ups in trendy lifestyle magazines. I found it oddly difficult to look away from him as he soaked in the achingly sweet sounds.
In fact, I was so wrapped up in watching him that I nearly jumped out of my skin when a voice barked, “You!” and a tall man with copper-blond hair pulled back in a ponytail stalked up, pointing at us with an accusing finger. His green eyes narrowed—the expression decidedly menacing. For a hysterical instant, I thought he must be one of the men Richard owed money to, but there was literally no way they could have known to find me here.
Heat flared at the base of my throat, and my hand flew to my great aunt’s pendant. At the same moment, Leonides’ eyes snapped open. For an instant I thought I saw a flash of violet in their depths—some trick of the nightclub’s low lighting.
“Oh my god, seriously?” he muttered, almost too low for me to make out the words.
He moved so quickly that I missed the details of exactly how it happened, but suddenly I was half behind him, his broad-shouldered body between me and the shouty ponytail guy. The newcomer came to a stop a few feet away from the two of us, still glaring.
“It’s true, then,” he said. “I could hardly credit the rumor’s audacity, but now I see it with my own eyes. So, the last bloodsucker in existence has flouted the unwritten terms of the treaty, and spawned another of his foul breed.”
Leonides gestured around the crowded nightclub, where people were beginning to take notice of the bizarre confrontation. “Look, whoever you are—you really want to do this here?” He paused. Frowned. “And how the hell can you flaunt the terms of a treaty if they’re unwritten? D’you folks not have contract lawyers in fairyland?”
My brain was still stuck in what-on-earth-is-happening-right-now mode, but apparently Leonides’ reaction was the wrong one. Because ponytail guy sneered, raising his hand... and... there was a glowing ball of light swirling in his palm, like some kind of crazy CGI effect in a movie—
I blinked, and blinked again, because... what? But the ball of churning light was still there, large as life and twice as sparkly.
“Fuck my fucking life,” Leonides said, sotto voce. Then, faster than my eyes could follow, he pulled out a tiny concealed pistol from his trouser pocket and pointed it directly at Blondie’s heart.
* * *
Want more? Order Vampire Bound: Book One today!
If you enjoyed this collection, you might also like R. A. Steffan and Jaelynn Woolf’s completed vampire series, Circle of Blood.
For another series with a similar feel, try R. A. Steffan’s completed sci-fi romance series, Love and War.
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