The Mage in Black (30 page)

The bartender finally pulled himself away and approached me. “What?”

Tiny needed to talk to his staff about customer service. I smiled at the asshole. “I’m looking for Tiny Malone.”

He jerked his head toward a dim corner of the club. “Over there.”

I squinted through the haze of cigarette smoke and pheromones. Sure enough, an obese vampire surrounded by strippers sat in a corner booth, puffing on a cigar. “That’s
Tiny
?”

The bartender shot me a look. “It’s called irony. Look it up.” With that, he turned to yell at a male who was getting grabby with the girl dancing on the bar.

I took a deep breath and made my way toward Tiny. Surrounded as he was, I tried to think of some way to get him alone. Then it occurred to me I was the only female in a strip club not wearing pasties and a G-string. I pulled the bodice of my tank top lower and adjusted my bra to show a little more cleavage.

When I reached the table, I stood across from Tiny. He looked up, his eyes bored. I preferred to believe this was a side effect of looking at bare tits all day, and not a commentary on my own assets. “Are you Tiny?” I asked, putting a little flirt into my voice.

“Who wants to know?”

“My name’s Candy. I heard you were looking for some new girls.” I’d heard no such thing, of course. But in my experience, even if guys like Tiny weren’t hiring, they wouldn’t pass up a chance for a private audition from some new talent.

Tiny heaved his bulk forward, leaning his elbows on the table. “You got any experience?” His eyes assessed my boobs as he talked.

“Yeah, I used to work at the Tit Crypt in L.A.,” I said, rattling off the name of a club I’d actually been to.

His eyes narrowed. “Your tits are kinda smallish.”

Gods, this guy made my skin crawl. I made a mental note to demand a few hundred extra from Slade for my suffering. I forced a casual shrug. “Never had any complaints.”

“Well,” he said, “let’s see ’em.”

I tilted my head. “Excuse me?”

“Your tits, honey. Need to see the goods.”

Cold sweat broke out on my chest. I should have expected this. The idea of baring myself to this pig made me want to puke. However, if I refused, I’d have no chance of getting the pig-man alone.

“How about I give you a private show instead?” Bile rose in my throat. I choked on it as I said, “I’d love to show you my moves.”

“That can be arranged.” Tiny’s eyes lit up. “Why don’t we go back to my office?”

Tiny shoved one of the strippers out of the way. She whined, but a glare from her boss shut her up. He tried to heft his massive proportions out of the booth. The stripper grabbed his hands and pulled until Tiny’s belly became unwedged. His body flew forward, nearly knocking the stripper on her ass. I bit my tongue to keep from laughing.

Until he put his arm around my shoulders. Then I had to concentrate on not punching him right there in the middle of the club.

Tiny’s hand brushed my breast as he ushered me through the black curtain next to the stage. My skin crawled, but I gritted my teeth. Soon the charade would be over and I’d finally get to show Tiny my real skills.

The dark hallway smelled of stale beer and illicit sex. A curtain to my right was open just enough to see a cherry-red head bobbing in a guy’s lap. The customer had one hand on the chick’s head as he drank blood from a champagne flute with the other. Classy.

Tiny made no attempt at small talk. Instead, he led me to a door at the end of the hall next to a heavy metal door with an exit sign glowing above it.

I’d never seen an office with a bed in it before. The room was barely big enough to contain both the bed and Tiny. He walked right over and lowered himself onto the edge. He lit a cigarette and tossed the lighter aside. “Well”—he patted his crotch—“come on. I don’t got all night.”

I smiled at him and went to lock the door. He leaned back. When I turned back toward him, I got an unfortunate glimpse of his member. Looked like I’d finally discovered the real source of his name. Irony, my ass.

Tiny grabbed himself and waggled his dick like bait. “Hit me with your best shot.”

I sashayed across the room, a teasing smile on my lips. “I can’t wait.”

I grabbed him by the lapels and hauled his ass off the bed. My fist finally got its wish and slammed into his fat mouth.

“Ooh, someone likes it rough.” A trickle of blood smeared the corner of his grin.

“Shut up, asshole.” I punched him in his gut. “The Shade sends his regards.”

Tiny seemed to catch on then. He shoved me hard. I slammed into the table. Dildos scattered across the floor. I jumped over them and grabbed the back of Tiny’s shirt before he could reach the door. Wrapping my arm around the bulk of his neck, I jerked him back.

“Your payment’s late, Tiny,” I whispered in his ear. “The Shade’s not happy.”

“The check’s in the mail!” His voice went up an octave. “I swear.”

I delivered a jab to his kidneys. He grunted and tried to pull away. I grabbed his left arm with my free hand and twisted it up high behind his back. “Not good enough, Tiny.”

He was panting now. A sheen of sweat covered his moon face. “What do you want?”

I had no idea how much Tiny owed Slade. The fact Slade hadn’t requested any broken bones told me it wasn’t huge money. Slade hadn’t asked me to come back with a good-faith deposit on his debt, so I decided to just scare him a little. “You’ve got twenty-four hours. If The Shade isn’t holding cash in his hand this time tomorrow, I’m gonna come back.” I jerked his arm a little higher. He hissed against the pain. I leaned in to whisper. “You don’t want that. ’Cause if I have to step foot in this shithole again, they’ll be calling you No Dick Malone.”

He whimpered.

“Do we understand each other, Tiny?”

He swallowed audibly. “Y-yes.”

“Good boy.” I released his arm and patted his shoulder. I’d planned on making him sit on the bed so I could make a quick exit. But now that he wasn’t being subdued, Tiny freaked. He swung around and clocked me in the chin. My teeth clacked together painfully, and I fell back onto the bed. Tiny’s girth slammed on top of me, pinning me to the mattress. He put his sausage fingers around my neck and squeezed.

“No one threatens me in my own club!”

Pinpoints of light danced in my vision as he cut off my air supply. I grabbed hold of his pinkie and bent it back. But Tiny was pissed and pumped full of adrenaline. If he felt the digit snap, he didn’t react. If anything, his grip tightened.

“I’m gonna cut off your head and send it COD to The Shade.”

My hands groped the bed for something—anything—I could hit him with. A sharp sting on my palm broke through the haze of asphyxiation. The cigarette Tiny dropped earlier. I grabbed the smoldering butt and jabbed it into Tiny’s left eye. The pressure on my neck disappeared, and air rushed into my lungs. Tiny writhed on the floor, his hands covering his ruined eye. I jumped off the bed, ready to get the hell out of Dodge.

That’s when the scent of burned flesh hit me. Combined with Tiny’s cries, the scent took me right back to watching Hawthorne burn. Bile rose in my crushed throat, making me gag. Suddenly, wanting to get out of the room became a desperate need to get out. I tripped over Tiny and stumbled to the door. My fingers clawed at the dead bolt. Finally, the lock turned and I burst into the hall. Two steps later, I slammed through the exit and into the alley behind the building.

Warm spit filled my mouth. I made it ten feet before I doubled over next to a Dumpster. All the bagged blood I’d forced down that morning now forced its way back out onto the filthy pavement. And when it was all gone, bitter bile and dry heaves followed. I felt to my knees and wiped the back of a shaking hand across my mouth. The urge to lie down was strong. But I didn’t have the luxury of indulging my body’s need to rest. It was only a matter of time before Tiny’s men found him and came looking for me.

Using the Dumpster for leverage, I pulled myself off the ground. I took the cell phone Slade had given me out of my jacket pocket as I limped down the alley.

He answered on the first ring.

“Slade? I need help.”

H
e picked me up a few blocks away from the club. When I got in the car, he frowned as his gaze scanned over me. “Are you injured?”

I shook my head and slammed the door. He looked at me hard for a few seconds before deciding I was telling the truth. He eased his black BMW into traffic.

The ride back to Vein didn’t take long, but tension hung thick in the air. I could feel Slade’s unanswered questions pushing against the barrier I’d erected. But he’d kept his mouth shut, and I appreciated him not pressuring me to spill my guts.

But by the time we reached his office, my head felt like a pressure cooker. I went to the bookcases and slammed through the door into my room. Slade hung back. As I closed myself in the tiny bathroom, I heard ice hitting glasses in his office.

In the mirror, my face stared back at me with a stranger’s eyes. Instead of the usual blue, now my irises were almost black with the shadow of fear. I blinked and rubbed my eyes with shaking hands. Refusing to look in the mirror again, I splashed some water on my face and rinsed the sour taste from my mouth.

What was happening to me? Too many half-formed thoughts and troubling memories bumped against each other until I felt like I might go crazy trying to figure it all out myself. Suddenly, the privacy I’d sought in the bathroom became oppressive. I made my way back to Slade’s office.

He leaned against the desk, looking pensive when I returned. When I sat in a chair in front of his desk, he pushed a glass of whiskey in my hand. I lifted it, and the smoky scent made my stomach churn. But I felt cold inside. So cold I felt like I might never be warm again. Ignoring the scent, I tossed back the drink in one gulp. It scorched a path down before it spread its hot fingers through my stomach.

Slade sipped on his own drink and watched me refill the glass. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head. Something told me once I opened the floodgates, I’d drown.

Slade nodded, seeming unsurprised by my refusal. “Should I assume something went wrong with Tiny?”

I shook my head. “No, not really.” It wasn’t a lie. I’d accomplished what Slade sent me to do. The message was delivered.

He nodded, absorbing that. “Okay. Do you want me to leave so you can be alone?”

My head jerked up. The idea of being alone scared the shit out of me. Then I’d had nothing but my own black thoughts to keep me company. Slade waited patiently for my decision. He’d shucked the suit coat and now leaned against the desk in slacks and a white dress shirt with the collar open and the sleeves rolled up. The picture of casual confidence. Confidence so in opposition to my own shaky insecurity and fear. As I watched him, something shifted like mercury inside me. Suddenly, wanting him to stay became needing him to stay. Needing him, period.

He seemed to sense the change and held out a hand. I watched him for a moment. The gold flecks in his hazel eyes glowed with something warm. I placed my cold fingers in his hot hand. When he tugged gently, I went with the momentum, right into his arms. I tried to convince myself it was just a friendly, supportive hug, but I knew better. We both did.

His neck was next to my nose, and I inhaled the coppery scent coming from his skin. After weeks surrounded by the sandalwood scent of mages, Slade smelled like coming home.

I had two choices. I could pretend that somehow everything would magically work out and I’d return to mage life. In this scenario, maybe Adam and I would stand a chance. But part of me wasn’t sure I wanted that. Not anymore. The truth was Adam wanted me to be someone I wasn’t. Ever since I’d met him, he’d been nagging me to change, to embrace my mage side. But clearly mage life wasn’t a fit for me, and pretending it was hadn’t done me any favors.

That left me with scenario two. The vampire holding me wasn’t demanding I become someone else. And he was so warm. So solid and vital. I tried to absorb some of that into myself, but I couldn’t get close enough. Not this way.

Slade whispered my name. I lifted my face to look into his hot eyes. He hesitated a split second, as if he expected me to laugh or run. I met his gaze steadily. It was time to start moving on.

His lips warmed mine a second later. I closed my eyes and savored the whiskey taste of his mouth.

Why are you doing this?

Call the voice in my head conscience or self-preservation. Call it plain old common sense. Either way, I ignored it. And when my traitorous brain tried to call up Adam’s face in my head, I slammed the door shut and locked the dead bolt.

Something deeper inside—the raw, throbbing, vulnerable part—craved this. The scent, the feel, the taste of Slade soothed the restlessness that had been squirming inside me for weeks. Letting him take the lead felt good. I’d spent so such time fighting, it was a relief to surrender.

He groaned and deepened the kiss. He slid his hands through my hair, yanking painfully against my scalp.

Yes
.
Punish me
.

I nipped his lips with my fangs. The metallic taste of blood bloomed in my mouth. The potency of his vampire blood gave me a small boost of adrenaline. It fueled the small spark waking in my belly—and below.