Page 6 of Darkest Valley
“You sell yourself short, angel,” Alistair purrs. “If I were luckyenough to taste your blood, I wouldn’t expect to think of anything else ever again.” Half threat, half come-on, a thrill races up my spine. Was that a compliment?
My cheeks heat, and Alistair’s eyes flicker to the pulse throbbing near the base of my throat. He wants me; that’s obvious, but getting tangled up with Alistair would get people talking, and I don’t want to draw any more attention to myself. Even if the sex would be explosive, I never go back for seconds, and he’s too high profile to scratch my itch.
“You’re on deck, babe.” Imani brushes past me, and I take the opportunity to make my exit, doing my best to zone out during my next dance. The cool glide of the metal pole usually feels soothing when paired with the hot blast of the stage lights, but I’m too aware of Alistair’s eyes on me to truly relax.
I botch my dismount, barely managing to avoid a rolled ankle in the process. Godsdammit, I’ve got to either get a grip or get laid. This is getting ridiculous.
As I leave the stage to a smattering of catcalls and cheers, I kick myself for taunting him. Alistair loves a challenge, has the reputation to prove it, and his loyalty is for sale to the highest bidder. I would be better off convincing him I’m boring and brainless than provoking his mercurial interest by flirting with him.
It’s too bad I’ve never been good at hiding the truth.
THREE
Unspoken rule of the Fringes #21:
Don’t fight your nature.
LUCA
I try not to look at her. It doesn’t help. My body is aware of hers at all times, like I’ve added a Celine-specific sense to my already overtaxed nervous system.
Even now, surrounded by a clusterfuck of stimulants, I’m aware of her in a way that drives me wild. She’s in the hallway, disrupting the club’s natural rhythm of catcalls, bass guitar, and heavy breathing by pacing back and forth.
Pull yourself together, asshole.I suck in more air, soaking up the familiar smell of beer and pheromones that lives in the air of the Fang.
Celine is getting tired of my shit. I can tell. And she’s right to be frustrated. She’s acting normal. I’m the one dangling on the edge of ruining everything. What she doesn’t know is it’s not even my fault.
I’ve always been attracted to her—anyone with eyes would be—but I’m cold-blooded, and I’ve never had any trouble shoving my desire for Celine into the neat little compartment where it belongs. Until now. Because my basilisk has decided she’s ours, and it refuses to understand the metric fuckton of reasons why she would never agree to that.
“Can I get a Blood Tide? On the rocks.” My eyes flick up to Alistair’s face reluctantly, and my basilisk coils angrily in my chest, sensing a rival. I’ve got no problem with the guy, but I see how often he comes around to watch Celine.
“Sure thing,” I say. Smiling like a dumbass, I drop down to the cooler where I store the blood. Vampires aren’t sociable, so I didn’t start stocking it until Alistair became a regular. Human, witch, or bunny-rabbit shifter—he’s never been picky about the blood type and tips enough to offset the cost. Plus, I wasn’t about to risk alienating someone with his reputation.
“Business is good,” Alistair observes while I add blood and tequila to the shaker, running the rim of his glass through cinnamon and cayenne pepper as he studies me. He’s usually better at small talk than this. If he’s uninterested in having a conversation, though, why is he bothering?
“Yeah,” I agree, refusing to be rude no matter how much his presence annoys me. I’m a professional. I can handle a little misplaced jealously without turning into a monster. “The girls have worked hard. They deserve the steady cash.”
“Some more than others,” Alistair murmurs.
My eyes rise slowly from where I’m cutting a piece of celery to garnish his drink. He’s not focused on me or the stage. His head is cocked toward the hallway instead. He’s listening to Celine pace, too. I’d bet a week’s tips on it.
My fangs stab painfully past my gums, venom rushing through my glands. When cold pressure pounds against my retinas, I glare down at the bar top so intensely that I feel like I’m drilling holes in the scarred wood.Pull yourself together, you jealous fuck.
Shifting my full focus to the drink I’m making, I recite the ingredients in my head to distract my basilisk from its territorial rage. Measure.Chill.Shake.Relax. Pour.Don’t kill him.
The monster inside me settles sullenly, but remains homicidally pissed off about the fact that I’m preparing a drink for its newfound nemesis. I snatch my water bottle out from under the bar, taking a deep swig, then swish it around in my mouth until the bitter taste of my venom is gone. My fangs retract.
That was way too close. I’ve got to get better control of myself.So what if he wants her?That’s good for business. People are wary of Alistair because he’s known for being merciless when cheated or wronged—not because he’s an indiscriminate killer.
“Fascinating,” Alistair murmurs, his voice low. It’s barely a whisper in the crowded strip club. If my senses weren’t focused on him, I wouldn’t have heard him at all. “You’re a mystery, Luca Saratelli,” he says, this time at a normal volume.
I try to scoff, but the dismissive sound comes out strangled, as if I’m choking on my own spit. I don’t want to be a mystery for him to solve. I want to be like wallpaper in a rich person’s house—bland, simple, and easy to walk past without noticing. He’s watching us too closely already, and no good can come from being on his radar.
More venom hits my taste buds, deadly to everyone but me. My mouth is coated with it. Swallowing as much as I can, I beg my basilisk to take a back seat and let me handle this. Reluctantly, it curls further inside me, and I look up at Alistair.
He’s intensely focused, his piercing blue eyes inspecting every inch of my body he can see. I have the strangest sensation that he’s trying to peer beneath my skin to see how I’m put together.
“You’re bleeding,” Alistair says. With a movement too quick to track, his right hand darts out, his thumb grazing my bottom lip. He comes away with a drop of my blood. Before I can stop him, he sucks his finger into his mouth, eyes flaringbright red.