The air was cool on the uncovered skin of her belly, contrasting with the warmth of self-consciousness flooding her face and throat and Wayren's easy touch on her abdomen. The blond woman paused to retrieve a pair of spectacles with square lenses from her satchel and she put them on as Macey tried to relax.
She drew in a deep breath, arms flat at her sides. Her attention fell on Chas, who stood next to Sebastian on one side of the table. He wore an inscrutable expression, something between pain and hope. His hands were curled into tight fists, hanging at his sides. Was he remembering when he received his vis bulla? That thought had her wondering where he wore it, and the image of a bare torso rose in her mind.
Would you like to see my vis bulla, Macey?
She swallowed and then gasped at the sudden, sharp pain at her belly. But Wayren's movements were smooth and quick, and moments later, Macey felt the slight, cool weight of the tiny cross settling into the hollow of her navel.
At the same time, a sizzle of energy and light flooded her. She felt it. She truly felt it.
Before she could do it herself, strong hands helped her upright-it was Chas-and she nodded her thanks to him.
"It's done," he said simply, then stepped away. His hand settled on his own midriff.
Sebastian was looking at her too, his golden brown eyes soft and warm. "Thank you. "
"Welcome. " Wayren handed Macey the empty bottle, its cork stopper back in place. "You may keep this if you like. "
"Thank you. " She took it. Then, very conscious of the sharp throbbing at her belly mingled with a sizzle of awareness, Macey tucked the shirt tail back into her waistband. "Er. . . now what happens?"
"You hunt vampires," Chas said. And grinned.
There were speakeasies and gambling houses and brothels. . . and then there was The Blood Club.
Chas didn't think much of the establishment's name, but it wasn't as if it were emblazoned on a sign over the door. Ah, no. Access to this exclusive club wa
s limited to those who knew where to find it and how to enter.
Thus, he knew to patronize a tailor shop named Rico's, and to ask for the trousers he'd dropped off a week ago. "To be double-stitch hemmed over the back of the heel," he told the man behind the counter.
It was a different person every day.
Nevertheless, the man gestured to the back as whoever was behind the counter always did. "Third dressing room. You gotta go try 'em on. "
Chas went into the indicated dressing room. Once inside with the door closed behind him, he swung open the floor-length mirror to reveal a large, dimly lit room. The familiar scraping sensation deep in his belly confirmed there were many undead in the vicinity.
At first glance, the place looked like any other saloon or cabaret. Tables were scattered about, some in darker corners than others. Many were booths with high, rounded sides. Decorated with red-swathed lamps, the space was unusually warm in temperature as well as appearance. Smoke and the scent of stale whiskey mingled with a pungent, metallic aroma. Despite the freshness of the libation of choice, a long counter with bottled options lined the short end of the room
Outside, the sun was still up, but that didn't matter-the small, windowless place was crowded. Smoke stung Chas's eyes, which were still becoming used to the dim light, as he wound his way through the tables. While there were no waitresses per se, there were other club employees scattered throughout: beautiful young women in short, bright dresses with glittery headbands, high heels, and boas, and handsome men in spats and tailored suits with bloodred ties. Some stood near the counter, others leaned against the side of a shoulder-height stage, others wandered from table to table, greeting the patrons and then sliding into an offered seat.
"Welcome to The Blood Club," said a throaty voice.
Chas turned, the gnawing in his belly very strong now, and took in the woman's appearance. Slender, blond-haired, with the paper-white skin of an undead, she was nevertheless an attractive creature with generous curves and full lips. No surprise, for the Club's proprietor, Count Alvisi, offered only the best service-whether from an undead or a mortal, depending upon the patron's choice.
"What's your pleasure, handsome?" she asked, showing a hint of fang from behind dark red lips.
Too soon for that yet, so he jerked a thumb toward the bar. "For now. " He did allow his attention to linger over her before pushing on past, just to keep the option open. Sliding onto a stool, he ordered a whiskey. When it came, he tossed it back in one motion, then ordered a second before the bartender even walked away.
Vioget would say it was a waste to slam a good Scotch down without savoring it, but Chas had his reasons. And though the drink was smooth, aged, and pure-unlike the vast majority of liquor served in Chicago-if he was going to have any success tonight, he had an impression to make.
A short time later, he fumbled into his pocket to withdraw a bill to pay for four whiskeys. Then he slurred his thanks to the bartender and made a show of being potted off his arse. Sliding off the stool, he staggered and clunked his hand clumsily against the bar as he turned.
The blond vampire who'd greeted him watched from across the way, despite the fact that she'd seated herself at a table with what appeared to be a less interesting mortal-older, rounder, and grayer than him. That was no surprise; Chas attracted women as easily as a stake slid into an undead heart-a benefit of which he took great advantage. The blonde's eyes narrowed into obvious invitation, and Chas knew she'd ditch her current "customer" if he gave her the slightest bit of encouragement.
But he didn't. Not yet. Not until he decided on his own target.
The whiskey warmed him, made him a little too aware of his needs and desires-particularly with a sensual woman giving him that hungry look. At least she was blond. Blond was easier. Yet, every time he stepped into this place, it reminded him of Rubey's establishment, of being with the rav sooner rather than later. , and 7Ven-haired, incomparably beautiful Narcise, of memories he'd tried to leave behind-his troubled past, falling in love with a vampire.
Wayren had offered him a way out, but even she couldn't eradicate history.