Chapter 4
4
T humper is already in the parking lot when I pull up to The Vault. His pale, freckled skin glows like a beacon under the lamplight, and he mindlessly swats at the air as he frowns down at his phone.
It makes me uncomfortable, knowing he was waiting out in the muggy summer evening air, no doubt getting eaten alive by mosquitos. I’m supposed to be the bloodsucker marking his skin tonight. He’s going to be itchy and covered in bites, which is a nightmare for a rigger.
I’d feel bad for him, but I’m not late. He’s early. Also, he could’ve gone inside. Thumper is a member of the club, not my guest. Which makes his behavior more annoying.
He perks up when he sees me get out of my car, a bright, eager smile spreading his lips as he waves. He smooths a hand through his strawberry blonde hair, then wipes his palms on his pants. “Hey, Bella!”
I cock an unamused brow at him, and his smile falters for a second. “Sorry, I’m just excited to be doing this again. It’s been a while,” he says with a chuckle. I stare at him blankly and his eyes widen. “Mistress! It’s been a while, Mistress. Not that I’m complaining! I’m just happy you messaged me.”
“Don’t make me regret it.”
Thumper nods and his cheeks burnish a deep red. “Yes, Mistress.”
That’s better. “Why are you standing out here?” A mosquito lands on his arm and I slap it, eliciting a gasp from him. “You’re getting eaten alive.”
He gives me a sheepish smile. “Wasn’t sure if I should go in without you.”
I refrain from rolling my eyes at his eagerness. “Go inside. You’re no good to me if you want to scratch your skin off.”
“R-right. Of course, Mistress. I didn’t think about that.”
Thumper doesn’t seem to be the type to think much at all, but I’m not mean enough to say the thought aloud. There’s no purpose in pointing out how foolish someone is unless there’s the possibility that they’ll take the steps to learn and grow.
Like most men I’ve dealt with, he’ll most likely smile and agree to my face, then keep doing the same shit again and again.
I roll my shoulders and sigh as I watch him turn and head inside the club. What did I expect? He’s gotten too familiar with me and I don’t have the energy to put him back in his place.
It’s not his fault. I’m not a good match for him as a domme or a rigger, and I knew that. I’m the asshole for reaching out to him again. I should’ve canceled my demonstration instead of using him. But it’s too late now, so I’ll get through tonight and then try to see if I can play matchmaker with the people at the club tonight and find him someone more his speed.
It’s for the best. These rigging demos are a favor I do for the club owner, but I could’ve been with a paying client tonight. I should tell Jeff I need to take a hiatus. Hanging out at the club while I’m not working is enjoyable, but I need to be practical.
Great. Another awkward conversation I’ll get to have tonight.
At least I’ll see Mona. Shame her partner isn’t coming tonight—I would’ve used her as my bunny again, but she only wants to do that kind of play if Max is sitting in the shadows waiting to snatch her away as soon as the ropes come off.
I shake my head in amusement at their dynamic, but my stomach clenches unhappily. I’m full from the blood I had earlier, but something deep inside me isn’t satisfied. It’s hungry for the kind of connection they have.
My fangs threaten to distend, and I grit my teeth.
I don’t need it. I’m content with my life. I’m enough on my own.
The pang fades into a dull throb that’s manageable. I force the air from my lungs and head into the club.
Thumper stretches in the small dressing room that The Vault has set up for when they host burlesque performances, angling his mostly bare body toward me in an open invitation to watch him.
I suppress an eye roll. I don’t outright tell my submissives that I’m a lesbian, but it’s not a secret if you spend any time around me when I visit The Vault on non-demo nights .
His tall, muscular body is nice to look at from an aesthetic perspective. I mentally map rope placement that will best put his good looks on display for our audience. I’d originally planned on doing a suspension tonight, but shut that down when I asked if he has any new physical limitations, and Thumper gave me a cocky, dismissive smirk and gestured to his body as if to say, “who, me, the man with the perfect physique?”
Ugh. Men.
I would’ve called the whole scene off if he hadn’t immediately sobered when I glared at him, unamused. Appearances don’t mean shit. I refuse to hurt someone unintentionally because they were too flippant to take their safety seriously.
A crowd has already gathered in the room reserved for demonstrations and more elaborate scenes. Their collective pulses thrum in my ears, and as I lead Thumper to the space for our scene, I catch the scent of something warm and fruity, like a pie that was cooling in the sun. My fangs ache with the need to emerge, and I fight the urge to scan the room for the source.
I don’t like it. I’m already not pleased with how the night is going and I don’t need to be distracted on top of that. I swallow down the saliva pooling in my mouth and let my eyes glaze over, blocking out our audience.
Thumper is already flushed as I gesture for him to lower to the floor and sit on his heels. His pale skin looks good under the spotlight, no bug bites to be seen. It was wrong of me to slip a few drops of my blood into his drink back in the dressing room. He didn’t consent to being healed, but I couldn’t stomach the thought of dealing with both his cocky, overly friendly attitude and him squirming the whole scene because he’s covered in itchy bites.
Once he’s in position, Thumper looks up and has the audacity to wink at me and give me a lopsided smile. It makes me want to slap the idiotic look off of his face so he’ll stop thinking we’re friends.
But I don’t get angry. Especially not for a man I don’t care about.
I level him with a cool, stern glare and wait him out. He breaks quickly, dropping his gaze to the floor. Only once his head is bowed in submission do I unfurl my rope. From that point on, my thoughts melt into a pleasant blur, focused on the task at hand.
The purple looks good against his almost translucent skin, but dark blue would’ve been better—matching the delicate veins that spider across his body, singing to the baser parts of my mind. Tiny sun bleached hairs raise up everywhere my fingers and the ropes touch. A primal instinct inside him recognizes the danger I pose, even if he doesn’t consciously understand.
If he knew what I’m capable of, he’d run screaming. But with each methodical weave and knot, I prove to both of us that he’s safe. I’m in control.
At least I think I am until I catch that scent again. This time I can’t stop my fangs from emerging, and it takes all of my composure to not abandon the remainder of the rope in my hands and leap up to hunt it down.
Pressing my mouth shut despite the prick of pain from my fangs digging into my lower lip, I turn my body away from the audience as I work on finishing up the binding framing Thumper’s groin. My hands shake a little, one of my nails accidentally grazing the outline of the erection that’s trapped in his tight purple briefs.
He hisses, and his eyes flash up from where they were glued to the floor to meet mine.
I freeze. My vision wavers, and for a second, I see a different set of eyes, pupils blown wide in terror as I loom over them, consumed entirely by the need to feed .
No .
My hands pull back from him like I’ve been burned, and I stand so fast I almost stumble in my heels. Thumper watches me, lust, not fear, blazing in his eyes. My stomach roils with the need to void any remaining blood from my meal earlier tonight, and I look away, stepping back on shaky legs to let the audience admire my work.
There’s a smattering of applause and intrigued murmurs, but none of that matters. Because as soon as I break my focus from rigging, I find the source of my torment.
My best friend, Mona, stands at the front of the crowd, her golden brown skin burnished from the excitement of watching the demonstration and her warm brown eyes sparkling as she smiles at me. I barely register her friendly enthusiasm. Because by her side, looking like a gift from the heavens in a baby pink dress that hugs every dip and curve of her body, her cheeks flushed pink with vitality that I want to gorge myself on, is Grace.