He continued on his path, and despite the amount he'd imbibed, Chas found he was still horribly steady and clear-headed.
Fuck. Perhaps he should have had five shots.
No. He didn't have the luxury of being impaired. . . not yet. Nevertheless, he made a show of being deeply into his cups as he wandered among the tables. It was easy as breathing for him to differentiate the undead from the mortals who'd come to play dangerous vampire games.
Now it was just a matter of finding one who could give him the information he needed.
A change in the air had the hair at the back of his neck lifting a little, and the gouging sensation in his belly grew stronger. Chas pretended to trip, and as he righted himself by stumbling against a table, he looked over and saw Alvisi entering the room.
The count was well over a century old, having been turned a vampire during the time of Victoria Gardella. Despite being undead and cloistered from the sunlight, he remained olive-skinned. He had thin, lank brown hair and a dapper personality: slender, lithe, and bordering on effeminate.
Every bit as in control as Al Capone would be when he walked into the Four Deuces, Alvisi captured the attention of every patron and worker as he surveyed the saloon. Instead of being accompanied by gun-toting bodyguards, on his arms were two attractive women. Taller than he, both were slender with curling strawberry-blond hair and almond-shaped eyes. Other ladies surrounded him as well, each one a different shade of blond, wearing a blue frock and headdress, each one tall and willowy. From his distance, Chas couldn't tell for certain which of the escorts were mortal and which were undead. . . a fact it was imperative he rectify before making his move. But at least now he had more of a target.
He navigated his way toward the large curved booth where Alvisi and his entourage settled in. And he caught the eye of one of the blondes as he slipped, still clumsy, into a seat at a nearby table. He didn't want to appear too sauced. Just enough to look like easy pickings.
The blonde noticed him. They always did, especially if he gave any encouragement. He smiled and shot her a hot look, and when she flashed her fangs at him, he felt a repulsive shudder of attraction. But just as she was about to ease away from the group to join him, a passerby cut in between them, slicing through their gazes. Thus distracted, Chas allowed his attention to shift around once more. His eyes fastened on another woman with long, inky hair that hung sleekly past her shoulders. She had a delicate, oval face, indistinct because of the smoke and the distance, but it didn't matter.
A hitch seized him in the gut, and he met her stare. He felt a little clammy; the effects
As the brunette stood, their connection broke, giving him the opportunity to draw in a breath designed to clear his head. Too late now. His pulse pounded, and his insides sloshed with whiskey, revulsion. . . and, goddam him, anticipation.
"I've never seen you here before," she murmured as she slid into the chair next to his. Now she was close, and other than the long, straight fall of shining hair, she didn't look anything like Narcise.
"I've never been here before," he replied, easier now. It was always good when he wasn't recognized. "But I thought I'd. . . try something new. " He smiled-a balance of seduction and hesitance.
She licked her lips, showing the tips of her fangs. "Something new? Well, you've come to the right place. " She was nearly in his lap, her hand placed intimately on his thigh.
"Do you have a name?" Chas asked casually, then leaned in to cover her lips. One cold, one warm. . . but he was used to the odd sensation.
After a long, thrusting kiss, he eased back, keeping his eyelids heavy as he traced a finger over her exposed collarbone. Even as he played the seducer-or the seduced, depending upon how one looked at it-he had one ear fixed on the conversation coming from Alvisi's table. He could only hear bits and pieces, and h
oped the woman in his lap would fill in the rest.
"Valia," she replied, sliding her hand over his chest then up to play with his long hair. Her other hand slipped over the growing bulge of his cock. "My. . . "
He nibbled on her neck, then murmured, "Another whiskey first?"
"Of course. " She smiled with delight and signaled the bartender. "And then. . . would you prefer to stay here, or find somewhere more. . . private?"
Chas gave her a long, slow smile, making his expression surprised and delighted. "That's permitted?"
She laughed, low and husky, and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, pulling the cloth away from his throat and shoulder. Blood surged in his veins, but Chas eased back slightly. Not yet, darling.
"The count allows us to do whatever our patrons wish. Whatever we wish," Valia told him, her attention focused on his throat. The drink appeared at his elbow, and when he made a show of digging out his money, she waved him off. "My treat. "
"I certainly hope so. "
She flashed a glow of ruby approval in her gaze and began to unbutton his cuff. Chas allowed her to do so, but he had to work quickly. His pulse was beginning to speed up, and she seemed determined.
"He. . . that man over there? Is that the owner?" he asked.
She began to roll up his sleeve, baring his wrist. The marks from previous bites had all but faded, and she wouldn't notice the faint scars in this dim light. "Count Alvisi. Yes, he is the owner. "
"He looks as if he could give Al Capone a run for his money. Unless. . . is Capone like him?"
Valia gave a husky laugh, lifting his arm in her two hands as if it were a silver platter. "Capone? One of us? Not yet. But soon. " She slanted a look up at him, her eyes at full glow, her fangs long and ready to plunge.
He licked his lips, his mouth dry. Not yet, goddammit. Curling his hand around the back of her neck, he dragged Valia up against him and covered her mouth with his. He didn't worry about being too rough. The undead were violent creatures.