Page 6

Chapter Six

MALACHI

L ogically, I accept that I shouldn’t be here.

An employer doesn’t go to his latest employee’s soon-to-be-former job and skulk in a dark corner booth.

I’d been to the Gentleman’s Study before, but it had always been on official Nightshade business. The bouncer hadn’t even bothered questioning me as I strode through the door, backing down as soon as he registered my presence. Over the pulsating beat, my superior hearing caught Blake’s distinct laughter at the bar.

Taking advantage of her absorption in her work, I’d secreted myself away in a booth where the lights of the main stage and bar didn’t reach. One of the servers, a young, statuesque Black woman wearing a tight, strapless sheath dress that clung to the tops of her breasts and only reached to her mid-thigh, had clocked me and quickly taken my order.

The smile she’d given me as she introduced herself as Dani held the familiar interest I’ve grown used to from women. No doubt she gave similar looks to all the patrons, but I expect the sincerity for me is new. This time last year, I would have returned the interest.

Since meeting Blake, only one woman has existed for me.

I’d told her to bring me whatever she recommended, not caring about the drink but knowing it was required.

In the booth, I can see the entire space. The bar is long, curving around the end of the main stage, where a dancer, clad in a black push-up bra and thong, is working the pole. She has a long, dark mane and full, sensual lips that she curls in a smile as she pulls the men sitting around the stage under her spell. But her face and figure are forgettable compared to the woman I came for.

Earlier, Blake had been wearing comfortable clothing for the audition. Leggings that had hugged her legs, the top hugging her small breasts and making my mouth water. I’d been driven to distraction the rest of the day, her scent lingering in my office.

She’d changed, though I’m not able to see her entirely from my vantage. I couldn’t let her know I’m here, not after how I’d pushed her earlier in the day. Dark humor tilts my lips as I think of the disapproving look Ambrose would give me if he knew I was practically stalking my new stage producer.

Instead of the barely-there makeup from earlier, she’d darkened her eyelids and painted her lips a sensual mauve color. Her lilac hair fell loose around her, ending above her shoulders. My cock comes alive as I curl my hand against the top of the table, longing to bury my fingers in those strands as I devour her. All I can see of her from here is her top is dark, making her skin contrast like moonlight against the narrow straps.

Lips. Body. Blood. It doesn’t matter because I crave all of her.

Is this what my sire and brothers felt as they succumbed to the women who they claimed as their own? Did they feel this same maddening pull, this overwhelming need to possess and prevent any other male from being within her presence?

Other than insanity, what else would have me sitting within the shadows for over an hour while watching the petite woman behind the bar? Multiple dancers have swept by my table, gauging my interest in a private dance, and each one moves on, my lack of interest absolute.

Other patrons have come and gone from the bar, Blake offering a coy smile to each as she gets their drinks. Each time, they ask about her getting up on stage or ask about a private dance from her. She laughs before directing their attention to the dancers with practice, while I tighten my grip on my tumbler, risking it shattering in my hand.

Only one man—a wolf shifter from his scent—stays at the bar. Each time Blake is near his end of the bar, he continues the disjointed conversation he’s begun. His interest is obvious, but Blake is careful to offer only neutral answers before moving away to take more orders. As she distances herself from him, his head moves as he watches her. I catch the hungry look in his eyes.

My fangs elongate, prickling, as I snarl in the dark. I can’t reveal myself, as much as I want to put his face through the bar top.

Blake isn’t mine. She can’t be. We’re supposed to stay professional at work.

You aren’t at The Place right now . . . a devious voice that sounds suspiciously like Landon whispers across my thoughts.

I grit my teeth, pressing my feet harder into the floor as if that’ll keep me from rising and taking what I want.

The current song ends, and as the dancer collects the bills scattered across the stage, many of the drinkers rise and head to the bar. She’s hidden behind a row of males who smell like intoxication and arousal. The only consolation of not being able to see her is that the wolf-shifter at the end of the bar is unable to secure her attention either.

Blake is quick to take the orders, and each man slowly makes his way back to whatever spot he’d claimed. The server working my table is at the bar too, transferring the filled drink orders to her tray as Blake passes them to her. By the time the MC announces the next dancer, Blake has finished the orders and the server leaves with them.

Of course the damn male at the end of the bar calls out to her again.

“I still can’t believe you’re leaving me, Blake.” There’s an entitlement I don’t like in his voice.

Wait. Do she and this male have history? I study him closer, shifting in the booth for a better view of his face. There are too many scents in here to determine his, but nothing I scent from Blake suggests there’s something there.

“I’m sure you’ll forget about me in a week, two tops,” she answers as she wipes down the bar before moving halfway down the bar to the garnishes container.

“I could never forget about you,” he says, standing from the stool and following her. Her brows lift, clearly surprised. He leans his forearms on the bar top, like he’s trying to get even closer to her. She holds her ground, refusing to give way, and keeps that pleasant smile on her face that doesn’t meet her eyes. “Let me take you to dinner. You’ve never agreed before because I’m a customer, but after tonight, you don’t need to worry about that.”

He raises a hand towards her, as if to brush her hair behind her ear. “We’d be so good together.”

Blake takes a step back before he can touch her, her smile becoming more brittle. “You’re such a nice guy, Kit, and I really appreciate the offer. I’m really flattered, but?—“

He shakes his head and the glass tumbler shatters in my hand, but I don’t care as I stand. A flick of my wrist removes the droplets of whiskey. In two heartbeats, I’ve navigated through the tables and am beside this Kit at the bar.

“But,” I interrupt her, looking down my nose at the male, “she is spoken for.”

“Mal!” Blake’s shock is evident on her face. “What are you doing here?”

Both Kit and I ignore her as the wolf shifter sizes me up, a clear challenge in his eyes.

“Strange. She’s never mentioned you before,” he says, his hazel eyes reflecting the stage lights. He straightens as he speaks and I’ve got a few inches on him. He’s wider in the shoulders than me, but shifters have always been bulky compared to vampires. They look like beasts even in their human form. He’s dressed casually, in jeans and a hoodie; not exactly impressive compared to my custom-tailored Armani. He takes a pointed sniff. “And I’ve never scented you on her.”

“Excuse me!” Blake’s outraged voice is sharp between us.

I grin, straddling the line between being polite and threatening. This male’s interest in Blake is clear, his focus entirely on her and none of the dancers or other servers. The need to challenge, to fight this male and stake my claim on Blake has my nerves tightening and blood simmering.

“Maybe your nose doesn’t work as well as you think,” I respond. He practically raises his hackles at my condescending tone. Looking away from him at last, I turn a more genuine smile towards Blake. “Hello, darling. I know I’m early, and of the no boyfriends rule, but since this is your last shift, I figured I’d break it.”

She narrows those gorgeous blue-green eyes of hers, a promise of retribution within them before giving me the most simpering of smiles. Gods above, she doesn’t realize how much her ire turns me on.

“You’re lucky that my shift is over,” she says, and reaches behind her to untie the apron from her waist. It reveals tiny cut-off jean shorts that are practically painted on her toned thighs and, fuck, I can’t stop staring. A hungry growl rumbles in my chest as my cock aches in my pants. Whether she heard the growl or not, Blake’s body responds, the sweet scent of her arousal taunting me for the second time that day.

The fact that the wolf-shifter can smell it too fills me with savage glee.

“Meet me out back, baby?” Blake might phrase it as a question, but it may as well be a command.

“Whatever you want, darling.” I can’t keep the desire out of my voice and, thanks to my improved eyesight, I enjoy the blush on her cheeks before she turns to Kit. Her smile is perfectly professional once more.

“Again, I appreciate the offer but I have to decline.”

Blake leaves, walking towards the end of the bar where she can then head towards the back of the club. Dani, my server, gives her a big hug before she takes Blake’s place at the bar. Her dark brown eyes lock onto me and she heads straight towards us.

“Can I get you another drink?” She looks to Kit. “What about you?”

“I’m good,” I say and pull out my wallet from my back pocket. I grab two crisp hundred-dollar bills and set them on the bar in front of her. “I’ll cover his tab for the night. Keep anything left over for yourself.”

Kit bristles and I turn away from Dani before he can protest. This time I don’t bother smiling. “Get home safe.”

His lip turns up in a snarl. “Is that a threat, vampire?”

I lean in closer to him, my voice growing colder. “If I was threatening you, wolf, there’d be no mistaking it.”

I slap him on the shoulder, harder than necessary, but fuck it. The male is lucky I’m not skinning him and using his wolf-pelt as an area rug. I head towards the entrance when his shout cuts over the music.

“Is she your mate, Nightshade?”

I pause, my spine becoming iron. I turn, just enough to look him in the eyes across the distance. I don’t raise my voice, knowing he can hear me just fine despite the music.

“It’s none of your fucking business.”

The male’s lip quirks up, almost as if he is going to smile, before keeping his face dour. If I wasn’t staring right at him, I would have missed it. He turns away from me, raising his hand for Dani just as the dancer on stage finishes her set.

Satisfied he’s gotten the message, I exit with a nod to the bouncer. Then, take off around the corner, leaving a few startled patrons gasping. I arrive a moment before the back door of the building is thrown open.

A pissed-off Blake marches out and I’m her target.