Shadow's Pleasure: The Shadow Warder Series, Book Two (A Paranormal/Urban Fantasy Romance Series) (17 page)

Kiernan set his finished drink beside hers and rose, pulling Sorcha with him. He led her across the room to the spot where Cameron had stood a few minutes before, looking down into his club. From their vantage point, she and Kiernan could see most of the main floor, the entertainers, the waitresses and the guests.

Sorcha leaned into the window, her forehead almost touching the cold glass. “Can they see us?” she asked.

Kiernan shifted behind her, his heat blanketing her from her hips to her shoulders. Leaning in as well, his cheek slid close enough to graze hers. “No. From below, the mirror isn’t visible. Now look. What do you see?”

Sorcha didn’t answer right away. Instead, she did as Kiernan had asked and looked. At first glance, it was exactly what she’d imagined a high-end strip club might be like. The same deep red color scheme as the entry hall throughout, the same dimly flickering wall sconces. Banquettes and armchairs of plush black leather punctuated with brass tacks identical to those in the elevator.

Along the opposite wall, a long, polished bar of dark wood was manned by four bartenders. Two female, two male. All of them were tall and lushly beautiful, with a sensuality that reminded Sorcha of Cameron. And Sule. They moved from one patron to another, taking drink orders and filling them with a languid grace that almost hid the predator Sorcha sensed lurking beneath. The waitresses who came to the end of the bar were more relaxed, their smiles less charming. Less dangerous.

Only females served on the main floor. Clothed in deep red, they wore beautifully designed dresses that, much like Sorcha’s own, concealed as they revealed. The skirts were very short, their heels high and thin. In another club, these waitresses would have spent most of their time fending off groping hands. Here, however, Sorcha realized that while the patrons stared, they made no attempt to touch. The waitresses moved among them with the same sensually languid motions as the bartenders, bending low to place drinks on the tables without a single ass grab. The patrons stared at their cleavage, and some attempted to charm, if the waitresses’ patient, indulgent smiles were any indication. But they didn’t touch.

Half of the customers’ attention was focused on the stage, the stripper pole empty, the lights dimmed. They were waiting, she realized. The whole club was waiting. She was only just beginning to understand what was happening on the floor of the club when the lights went out. She started, not expecting the total blackness below.

Kiernan’s head turned, his breath hot against her ear. “Watch,” he said. “Watch and tell me what you see.”

Her breath shallow, Sorcha waited along with everyone else. On the main floor, a single, bright light interrupted the darkness. Aimed at the empty center stage, the light illuminated nothing. The patrons began to shift restlessly, looking around. Sorcha thought music might have started playing, but she couldn’t hear anything.

Then, at the far end of the stage, a figure appeared. Tall, like the others, the silhouette ripe with curves. A spotlight flashed, bringing the figure into view. Long, dark hair fell to her lower back in shining sheets. Like Cameron’s, it was a brown so deep it would have appeared black if not for the bright light. Skin the same milky tone as Cameron’s, as well. Sorcha might have thought them related, except where Cameron’s features had an almost harsh, elegant beauty, this woman was lush all over. High, rounded cheekbones flushed a rosy pink. Full lips a deeper shade. Eyebrows like wings arched above dark eyes.

Long legs, shaped with toned muscle, led to generous hips and an impossibly tiny waist. Sorcha had heard of wasp-waisted bodies, but she’d always thought it referred to women in corsets. Not this female. Her diaphanous gown fluttered around her, revealing hints of skin all over. She wasn’t wearing anything to force that luscious shape. It was all hers.

Luscious
? Sorcha shook her head slightly. Where had that word come from? She hadn’t lived an entirely innocent life, despite what Cameron had said about her, but she’d never found herself attracted to other women before tonight. And she’d certainly never thought of them as luscious. Now that the word was stuck in her head, she couldn’t get it out. This female was sensuality incarnate, from those dark eyes and red lips to her full breasts. Straining against the filmy material of her blush pink gown, they looked as soft as Sule’s had.

Sorcha was vaguely aware of her breath speeding up. Of Kiernan’s body pressed against hers. His heat. His hardness cradled against her ass. Any other moment, she would have reacted to him. Pushed him away or pressed back against him. But the dancer had captured all of Sorcha’s attention.

On the stage, the female was on the move. Her limbs seemed to float around her, lithe and graceful. She approached the end of the stage closest to the audience and set one hand on the stripper pole with a casual nonchalance. As if she was alone instead of standing in a club filled with patrons eager to see her dance. She stood there, appearing unaware of her observers. In a whisper of movement, her torso began to sway to the music Sorcha couldn’t hear. Arms above her head, hips turning and swirling, the figure on the stage began to dance. Head dipping, hair floating around her, she moved as if only for herself, but every step, each sway and turn, was directed at the patrons riveted to the scene on the stage. Gradually, so subtly that Sorcha couldn’t spot her urging it along, her top began to slip.

Held up by narrow ribbons of fabric, first one side, then the other, slid off her shoulders. The thin, silky fabric shifted against her straining flesh, only her full breasts keeping it from falling to her waist. Though she was a floor away, separated from the main club by the long mirror, Sorcha’s breath caught in concert with the other patrons when the fabric slipped one more inch on the left side, baring a hard, candy-pink nipple.

“Can you see it, Sorcha?” Kiernan asked. “Watch Thalia, but don’t let her distract you. Then watch them.”

Kiernan’s breath was warm on her already heated skin. She realized she was so aroused from watching the dancer, she might have let Kiernan do anything to her in that moment. His long, muscled body crowded her, one of his hands pressed flat to the cool window beside hers. The other was on her hips, his palm an imprint of heat on her skin. He wasn’t taking advantage of her arousal. Wasn’t rubbing against her, wasn’t groping. His lips touched her earlobe. A kiss, then a sharp bite.

“Ouch,” she said in surprise, jerking her head away. Like the last time when he’d bitten her lip, the quick flare of pain cleared her head.

“I know it’s distracting when you haven’t seen it before. But focus. Watch Thalia. Then watch the crowd. I think you’ll be able to see it more clearly than I can.”

Sorcha felt a flare of jealousy that Kiernan knew the sensual dancer’s name. Then she turned her attention back to the stage below. In the moment she’d looked away, Thalia’s dress had dropped or been tugged down to droop around her narrow waist, revealing her round, swaying breasts in all their pink-tipped glory. Trying to study the dancer with more objectivity, Sorcha thought she was hallucinating at first. Then she remembered Sule’s almost touch, the golden glitter in the air. The scent of flowers and earthy spice.

The air around the dancer shimmered as if someone hiding in the rafters was sifting gold dust onto the stage. As she let her mind view the truth beneath the illusion, Sorcha saw tiny flecks of gold lifting from Thalia’s skin as she swayed and twirled, the shimmer rising into the air and drifting out over the rapt crowd of patrons. The golden glitter settled over them, resting on their clothes, but sinking into their skin on contact.

Disbelieving, Sorcha stared harder, no longer distracted by the dancer’s seductive sway. She noted, with curious detachment, when Thalia’s dress hit the floor, baring her body. Naked, save for a tiny scrap of a thong, her performance retained the same unhurried sensuality. The golden haze in the air intensified. The patrons were so focused, so enraptured, a bomb might have gone off and Sorcha thought they’d remain where they were so long as Thalia remained as well.

Then she saw it, lifting from the bodies of the crowd, displacing some of Thalia’s golden cloud. Wisps of pink vapor drifting up from the top of each patron’s head, twining together to form a ruby red mass that rose above the gold, then flowed away from the crowd. In the deep shadows, almost out of sight, a line of figures arrayed along the back of the stage. No more than eight. Maybe ten. A quick glance around the floor told Sorcha the bartenders were missing. As were the bouncers.

The red mist divided itself into separate streams that dipped to touch the chest of each shadowy figure. A lone stream snaked from the cloud to attach itself to Thalia in the center of her back, following her as she continued to dance. Another few minutes, and the fog of sparkling gold and duller red had grown so dense it almost blocked Sorcha’s view of the club floor.

Turning her head, she was surprised to see Kiernan’s face right beside hers. He came into focus, his solid body still pressed to hers. She met his eyes, intent and curious on hers.

“I’ve wondered what it would look like if I could see with eyes like yours,” he said in a whisper. His hands still held her hips, his palms a possessive, hot brand through the thin fabric of her dress.

The arousal she’d pushed back while she’d studied Thalia surged anew, finding its focus in Kiernan. “They’re feeding from the crowd, aren’t they?” she asked, positive that was what she was seeing. The dancer was tantalizing the patrons, drawing forth their sexual energy. Consuming it.

“Yes,” Kiernan said in the shell of her ear. Sorcha shivered. “What does it look like to a Shadow?”

Sorcha tried to explain, but between Kiernan’s hold on her hips and the hot pulse between her legs, she wasn’t sure she made any sense.

Apparently it was good enough, since Kiernan said, “That’s close to what I’ve always pictured.” One hand slid from her hip to rest against her lower stomach, fingers splayed wide. Kiernan’s pinky finger pressed just an inch above where she wanted it.

Suddenly desperate to move, there was something Sorcha needed to know before she gave in to the need riding her. “Are they hurting the humans when they feed? Will it kill them?”

“No,” Kiernan said, nuzzling her ear. “I’ve never known it to.”

“What are they?”

“The Delectavi. This isn’t the place to explain, though. I’ll tell you more later.” Standing, he turned her away from the window to face him, cutting off her view of Thalia and the enraptured patrons. “I didn’t anticipate how much they’d get to you,” Kiernan said. “I should have. Those tattoos don’t change who and what you are. They just hide it.”

He tucked her hair behind her ears, the gesture oddly affectionate. Trailing his hands down the insides of her shoulder blades, tracing her spine, Kiernan sent shivers of sensation through her entire body. When his hands reached her lower back, he pulled her flush against him. Sorcha looked up, meeting his burning hazel eyes. She thought she should say something. Should do something. But words wouldn’t come. Did she want him to stop touching her? She didn’t.

Sensing that he was going to speak again, Sorcha twined her hands around the back of Kiernan’s neck, burying her fingers in his thick hair, pulling his face down to hers. It had been so long. So long since she’d been held by a man. And never one like Kiernan. A soldier. Warrior. Strong and tall, he fit her to perfection, right down to the thick bar of his cock pressing into her lower stomach. Her judgment was a little compromised. By the drink. By Cameron, Sule, and Thalia. Whatever they were, Sorcha knew just being near them had fucked with her head. It didn’t matter.

She’d already decided she wanted Kiernan. Her only question was whether he’d want her. Humbling as it was, he had a buffet of options spread before him. And Sorcha had been starving for far too long. Pride wasn’t going to stop her from taking what she wanted, however. As long as Kiernan was interested—and the hand currently clamped on her ass suggested that he was—Sorcha was going to take advantage.

This had spiraled way out of control. Kiernan stared down at Sorcha’s green eyes, shining with passion and intent as she pulled him to her. Maybe he should have resisted. Probably. But he wasn’t going to leave her like this. He’d started this shit. It was his responsibility to fix it. He wouldn’t take advantage; just take the edge off for her.

Giving in to the inevitable, Kiernan took her mouth with his. It was no surprise she fit like she’d been made for him, her lips soft and full, her tongue sliding along his in a dance far more seductive than anything Thalia could choreograph. With some women, he kissed them because they expected it. If he left out the kissing, the women felt used. As if a kiss somehow made the sex meaningful. On a basic level, he got that. Kissing was intimate. Could be affectionate. It had never been like this.

Sorcha’s mouth was ravenous. She sucked on his tongue, nipped at his lower lip, pulled him deeper, little moans drifting out when their mouths parted. It took Kiernan a minute to get his bearings. He’d suspected she’d be hot. He’d had more than one fantasy about her in the brief time they’d known one another. Fantasy had been nothing like the reality of her curvy body filling his arms. Her arousal might have been sparked by the Delectavi, but now it was just the two of them. And she wanted
him
.