Page 8 of New Nebraska Heat

All I could hear was Hunter screaming at people, shoving them away, as they instinctively reached out to help me. “Don’t touch him! Don’t touch him! Franco, Stratos, get these people away from here!”

Swimming in pain, I managed to catch something more about Serenity’s terror. It wasn’t just what I’d unintentionally done to the waitress that had her frozen in fear.

She was looking at a vamp sitting alone in one of the booths. With the club lights now all on fully, I could just about make out his pale and pock-marked face. Lengthened fangs poked down from a broad, smug smile as he stared at Serenity.

Like food.

Serenity

Halfway through my dance, it transformed from excitement to chaos.

High-pitched screams rang out from the back of the club and in an instant the lights were on, the whole place lit up. What could possibly be going on? I searched for Hunter and found him where the screams were coming from, back by the bar, with Bryce Harding—who must’ve just watched my dance. Oh God!

My heart sank, knowing my chance at Midas had just officially vanished. But what worried me more was Mr. Harding was hurt. His face was twisting in pain and he was almost on his knees, clinging to the bar, struggling to steady himself. I couldn’t see any blood or visible injury though.

Several feet away, one of the club’s waitresses, Tara, writhed on the floor, clutching her hand to her chest.

Had some drunken electricity elemental zapped them? But then Franco and Stratos would have been catapulting the drunkthrough the club’s front doors, not standing there, trying to keep everyone away from Mr. Harding.

I glanced around, trying to figure out what had happened and if I could be of help and… Oh shit.

Oh shit!

Conrad. In a booth by the back. My heart hammered.

He stared at me as he lifted a crimson cocktail in a toast. My hand subconsciously found its way to my neck, clutching the spot where he’d ripped into it.

He smiled with elongated fangs, eyeing me with hungry, red-rimmed eyes. My neck and forehead turned clammy. I stood there, wobbling in my boots, unable to take a step, swaying dizzily as he pinned me with his gaze. Nausea pooled in my stomach and I leaned forward, thinking I might heave.

He placed his unfinished cocktail down, rose from the booth and drifted toward the stage in his black tailored suit. I was still trying not to fall over. My breath came in short bursts. He stopped and looked up at me. “It’s been too long.”

I whimpered then clenched my teeth, not wanting to give him the gift of my fear.

“Wondered where you’d gotten off to.” He smirked as he reached inside the folds of his jacket and pulled out a wallet. He plucked a bill and tossed it on the stage. “Until next time.” He bared his fangs then laughed as he strolled toward the lobby.

He’d left a hundred-dollar bill. He used to tip me a lot in the den too—not that I could do anything with the money there, and he’d known that. The owners would just take it from me and be eager for the next time he came.

I finally found the strength to move. I turned and stumbled my way off stage, through the curtains. I burst into the back of the large dressing room, which was currently full of confused-looking dancers.

Gigi jerked her head back, her nose wrinkled. “It sounded like they were really into their first human dance.”

My knees shook and I gripped the edge of the makeup counter for support.

“And Mr. Moneybags is here too. Hasn’t been here for ages. What the hell did you do anyway? And why’s the music off?”

Scrambling for words, I stammered a reply. “Noth—nothing. I—”

Hunter’s voice boomed from behind me. “She didn’t do anything, so don’t ask again.”

Gigi huffed and put a hand on her hip.

“Girls, there’s been an emergency,” Hunter said. “Tonight’s not happening. I closed the club. You’ll all get a thousand dollars wired tomorrow. You can go home. Now, please.”

“Okay, boss!” several of them called out with gratitude in their voices. All the girls but Gigi broke into chatter about what to do with their free night as they started grabbing their things.

I released my grip on the counter and turned to find Hunter right at my shoulder, his handsome face reddened by stress. “Sorry you can’t do your other dance. But did something else happen? You look shaky.” He reached out for my arm in an instinctive manner, then paused and dropped his hand, for which I was grateful. I didn’t think I could stomach anyone touching me right now. Not even kind, gentle Hunter.

“It’s no problem.” I swallowed. “Is everything all right? I saw Mr. Harding out there. Maybe hurt?”