1 Dicey Grenor (2 page)

Two bouncers
wearing only leather jockstraps grabbed my
brimful
skull and dragged me backstage.

Once we were
hidden by curtains, I thanked them, collected my earnings and headed toward the
dressing room. Bloody
Valentina
, Sweet
Cinnabuns
and Purely Onyx were standing along the wall
clapping in unison. When
Valentina
playfully popped my
ass with her whip, I remembered I was still
buck
naked.
Still covered in blood.

Valentina
had chalky white skin that always smelled of
sweat and leather, blue eyes with clumpy dark eyeliner, and platinum blonde,
bobbed hair. She was wearing the same blood red patent leather Madame
I’ma
-whoop-your-ass outfit as she did every set, but it
didn’t matter. Her fans didn’t come to critique her fashion versatility. They
came to get beat, humiliated, dominated.
Valentina
was best at it because she was a true sadist and she just didn’t give a fuck.

She was up next
once the stage was cleaned and new patrons
entered,
old ones left. Normally, I’d stick around to watch her show since her bondage
demonstrations promised bloodshed. It was disappointing to see all that blood
wasted, but eating them wasn’t her thing. It was mine. And tonight, I didn’t
trust myself not to pounce on her masochistic volunteers when she lashed their
delicate skins with her whip.

“
Woohoo
!
Way to go, girl!” Cindy said. Her stage name
was appropriately Sweet
Cinnabuns
because she had a
fat booty and I swear she smelled like cinnamon. “I don’t know how you did it,
but it looked real as hell.”

My colleagues and
I didn’t bother questioning each others’ trade secrets. Best to leave each
performer to her mystery…

Suddenly, my
nostrils flared. I licked my lips.
Stopped in my tracks.

Before I knew it
was happening, my fangs started protruding. My mouth watered so badly I was
afraid to speak, scared saliva would spill out.

In an effort to
redirect my attention, I started thinking about lightening storms, toilet bowl
cleaners, lice…anything to get my mind off my bloodlust. It was taking over and
I couldn’t let that happen.

But she wasn’t
making it easy tonight.

Underneath the
smell of all that sweet cinnamon was the undeniable salty smell of her blood.
She was menstruating and damn it, I wanted to bite her, see if she tasted as
good as she smelled—sure sign I’d gone too long without feeding because friends
didn’t eat friends. When controlling my urges got to be this hard, it was
trouble.
I
was trouble.

Cindy was a
gorgeous Latina with shoulder-length brown and blonde mixed curly hair, coffee
brown eyes and edible lips. But more than anything, I loved her sweet Latina
scent.
Made me want to stick out my tongue and lick the air
whenever she was nearby.

No wonder she
specialized in
sitophilia
…food fetishism, that is.
She sure made me hungry.

Feeling like
myself again, I turned to face them. “Thanks, guys. Thanks for wrapping me up,
Cin
,” I said once my fangs retracted. “The audience loved
it.”

“Yeah, especially
that Remington guy,” Onyx chuckled and the other two joined in.

Damn it to hell,
she wasn’t looking too bad her damn self in her pleated mini-skirt,
black-rimmed glasses, ponytails, and Lolita knee-high socks. While she didn’t
fuck kids or anything (not that I knew of anyway), she catered to men who liked
young, innocent girls. Pedophilia and bestiality were my least favorite
fetishes because they didn’t involve consenting adults, but Onyx was one of my
favorites at the club.

There was just
something about her I couldn’t put my finger on.

For one, Onyx was
the only woman I knew who could play a teenager at her age. She must have
discovered the fountain of youth with her slate gray eyes, smooth pecan brown
skin, layered black hair with highlights and firm, voluptuous body. But she was
a long way from high school, closer to forty. If I didn’t know any better, I’d
think she was a vampire. Thing is, she hated blood and violence, which meant
she usually stayed far away from Bloody
Valentina
and
a fair distance from me.

Secondly, she took
her innocent girly role too damn seriously. Said she felt she was doing a
service to the community by letting men take their fantasies out on her and
helping them stay away from real girls.

Fine.
Didn’t mean she had to act virginal twenty-four-seven though. Never sitting
with her legs uncrossed.
Never a drop of makeup.
Never a curse word.

Corrupting her
then eating her up would be ideal, but tonight I’d settle for a bite of her neck…or
lower.

I’d walked up
close to Onyx without even thinking about it.

All three women
were staring at me, waiting to see what I’d do next. Onyx’s heart was thumping
wildly and she looked scared.
Valentina
looked
amused, Cindy, curious. I shook my head, stepped back, and went to clean the
blood off me.

I needed to find
Remi
and feed ASAP.

By the time I got
out of the shower, my wounds had healed. I donned a black sweat suit with
sneakers, put my hair in a ponytail and pulled the hood over my head. Dressing
blandly was one of the ways I blended in when I wasn’t onstage. As a human, I
was cute.
As a vampire, stunningly flawless.
That just
came with the territory.

Don’t get me
wrong—I enjoyed being physically impeccable and sexually irresistible, but
there were downsides. Back when we were legal and public, humans had discovered
a lot of our hidden talents. Amongst other things, they’d discovered the same
magic that kept us undead also gave us perfect looks every single night. We
didn’t age.
Didn’t get pimples or wrinkles.
Never had a bad hair day.
So we’d become easier to spot. And
that’s not good when being spotted carried a final death sentence.

Armed with my
mini-phlebotomy kit in my pocket for safely withdrawing fresh blood, I headed
in the direction of the private rooms. I hoped
Remi
was in one and not on his ass in the parking lot asphalt. Lot of good he’d do
me there.

I peeked in a few
rooms and saw all kinds of nasty sex, but no
Remi
.

“Sleepy Willow,” a
masculine voice called from the other end of the hall, “I’ve been looking for
you.”

I froze. That wasn’t
Remi
.

“Who are you?” I
asked.

“I enjoyed your
show tonight. Was hoping I could enjoy some private entertainment,” he said.

He hadn’t answered
my question. He’d told me what he wanted instead.
Bad sign.

“Hades isn’t that
kind of club, Mister, uh…”

“I’d
really
like to spend time with you. I know you girls are encouraged to…mingle.”

“I’m not an escort
or a prostitute, but I’m sure you’ll find someone to indulge your fantasies in
the Graveyard room.”

Each fetish had a
room where likeminded folks could meet up and let their imaginations guide
them.
Necrophiliacs
met in the Graveyard. Yes,
performers were encouraged to visit rooms and make patrons feel at ease, but
the fun went on whether we were in there or not. Maybe he was new and didn’t
know.

He didn’t move.
Too busy trying to seem non-threatening, but I wasn’t buying it. Something was
off.

“What was your
name again?” I asked.

He took a step
forward and swung open the door to a room. “This room’s free, Willow. I have
money.”

“I’m sure someone
in Graveyard will be happy about that. Go straight down this hall past the
python display, make a left at the exit sign and—”

“Aw,
c’mon.
Won’t you indulge a fan? Just a little alone time…”

“You can’t even
tell me who you are. Why should I be alone with you?” I snapped.

He chuckled. It
was a sexy sound that stirred parts lower in my body than fangs. I dropped my
guard, walked closer, wanting to smell him. Would I get a whiff of cigarette
smoke like with
Remi
or would he smell sweet like
Cindy?

“I can make it
worth your time,” he said, lowering his voice, stepping forward.

I’ll bet you
can.
When offering money hadn’t worked, he’d decided to turn on the charm,
seduce me. To a vampire, that was indeed a better strategy.

I started checking
him out, noticing broad shoulders in his brown leather jacket, long legs in his
jeans. He had to be at least six feet five inches given the angle I looked up
to him from my five feet eight inches. His height and build made his spiked dark
hair and dark eyes hard to ignore.

I could captivate
him, fill my vials with his blood, and go on my merry way since I hadn’t found
Remi
yet. But something about this stranger made me want to
do other things to him too, cross lines I hadn’t even crossed with
Remi
.

Letting my
bloodlust get out of hand was making my sexual lust escalate too.
Rapidly.
They were dangerously interconnected, especially
when it had been awhile for both. Bleeding
myself
onstage while I was already hungry had not been wise.

Though breathing
wasn’t essential to my survival, I took a deep breath anyway because I wanted
to inhale his scent, test out his pheromones and see if he’d be as delicious to
fuck as he would to eat.

His muskiness
tickled my nose hairs, sending invigorating signals to my brain.
Mmmm
.

During my two
years as a vampire, I’d only had sex with my
maistre
,
Maximilian, and the last time had been a
looooong
time ago. As thorough a lover he was, I’d left him and the clan because he was
too damn controlling, narcissistic and selfish. Plus, I’d had other
aspirations. Sure, he’d invade my psyche through our blood bond and fuck me
from afar, but it wasn’t the same as real penetration. That was something I no
longer wanted from him. Didn’t mean I no longer wanted it at all.

Nevertheless, I’d
denied the wanton part of my being and been celibate mostly because of two
commandments:
thou
shalt
not kill
and
thou
shalt
not commit adultery
. I was too afraid of killing
a human during the throes of passion. Too afraid Max would kill them once he
found out. And he’d definitely find out.

Best
not to have sex with anyone other than Max anyway since according to vampire
rules he was technically my husband.
And our marriage went deeper than
vows. We’d performed a ritual that transformed me from a simple human to one of
his vampire brides. It had formed a permanent bond that made the human line
’til
death do us part
seem like child’s play.

Surprisingly, even
as a vampire I hadn’t been able to part with the morals instilled from my
southern Baptist upbringing.

Speaking of morals…

Felt mine
declining by the second. Realized how badly I wanted this stranger. How hard it
was getting to resist temptation.

“I was kind of
looking for a friend,” I said, finding a spot on the floor to look at while I
contemplated whether to ditch my plan to chow on
Remi
and put this stud on the menu instead.

He’d touched the
side of my face with his wide, warm palm before I saw it coming.

“Look at me. I
want to see your eyes, Willow,” he said. He wasn’t even nervous. His heart beat
calmly, steadily.

Confidence was
sexy as hell. I wanted him in every way. So it took everything in me to
withhold my fangs. They were itching to break through. Itching to close the
distance between us, reach up, and sink into his neck.

He had no idea who
he was dealing with, but fine. I’d look at him since he’d asked for it.

As soon as I did,
he raised his other hand and sprayed my eyes with a substance that burned
instantly. He moved the hand already on the side of my face to my chin and
squeezed it tight, holding it in place. I screamed and tried to move away. He
kept spraying. I was stronger than any human, but whatever he’d sprayed was
affecting my speed, my strength.

I finally stopped
trying to back away and slammed my forehead into his nose. Blood gushed. He
stumbled backwards in shock, grabbing his wounded face.

The sad part was
that I’d been so weak moments before that I would have gladly given myself to
him. Given myself over to the immorality I usually fought so hard against. Now
it was a matter of principle. He hadn’t asked nicely. Asking for some private
time was not the same as “Hey, Willow, can I have some pussy?” He’d come to
Hades thinking we were all whores and he’d abuse one of us into giving him what
he wanted.

He’d picked the
wrong fucking performer from the wrong fucking fetish.

I didn’t wait for
him to recover. Licking at his drop of blood that had splashed near my mouth, I
turned to run in the opposite direction.

If my eyes weren’t
burning so much, I would have stuck around to fight, to feed. I’d have shown
him I was a predator, not prey. But he was quick, or at least, his legs were
longer than mine and he’d stuck one out and tripped me as I retreated. He was
down on top of me immediately.

For a moment, I’d
hoped he was going to pull my sweatpants down and shove himself inside. Give it
to me hard. Hot.
Horny.
But there was nothing sexual
about his attack.
 

Damn. I needed sex
and I needed blood and I loved the smell of his running down his face…