11. Vi
vi
. . .
“Pleeeeeeeeease Junebug?” Elsie begged, ruby eyes round with pleading. She clasped her hands together in front of her, pushing her lower lip into a frown-melting puppy pout.
Well, maybe for anyone other than a surly seamstress with a serious distaste for dealing with people. Though, I had to admit, Dana was right to send Elsie to be the one to ask.
She was always most likely to get the yes.
“I’m not serving ! Are you out of your fucking mind ?” Juniper snapped, closing her book— Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland —with an audible snap. “Striker!”
She saw me as I was moving to go around them, currently blocking the curtain that led back to the main bar, hauling a large wooden box of champagne. Juniper, for the most part, didn’t usually make a point of speaking to me, and being under the full power of her attention now made my palms feel sweaty with familiar ‘aaaaaaaah hot girl!’ gay panic nerves. I adjusted the box in my hands.
“What’s up?”
“Talk some sense into her, please!” Juniper said, huffing. “There isn’t a chance in immortal hell I’m slinging?—”
“Well,” I interrupted slowly, taking the opportunity for what it was. Prime flirting material. “I think you’d make some great tips.” I winked, making the vampire growl, even though her carefully constructed outrage was severely undermined by the twitch of her lips, hinting at a smile.
“You’re delusional.”
Juniper might have a prickly personality, but with her full thighs and generous bust, wrapped up deliciously in a lace bodysuit she’d paired with a little leather miniskirt and matching knee-high boots hugging her calves…
Yeah, she’d make a killing.
Ren breezed through the curtain to take the crate from me, a dark eyebrow raised. Clearly, the vampire had been listening in. “Come on, Juniper, we all need to pull our weight,” she reasoned. “Think of all the extra work poor Striker is going to have if you don't help.”
“What if there’s a fashion emergency?” Juniper shot back, crossing her arms. “Who’ll fix the costumes?"
"Peaches takes her top off in the first thirty seconds of her number; it will be fine,” Dana commented as she headed past with another box. “It’s not like we planned for this; three of the servers have some fucking stomach bug, Xuxuzinho. C’mon, for me?”
This earned a giggle from Elsie, who was obviously enjoying herself way too much with this turn of events. Maybe the secret weapon wasn’t the little blonde after all—it was the entire coven.
The redhead groaned, perhaps sensing that this four-on-one dogpile was only going to get worse the more people walked by.
“This is so not what I meant when I said I wanted to get fucked tonight,” she shot at Ren, who shrugged with a chuckle, disappearing back to the main bar with Dana following behind. “Fine! But only this once. And I want to be assigned to the VIP only; I’m not dealing with any cheapskates on the main floor."
"Deal!” Dana shouted back at us. “Now was that so hard?”
Elsie smacked a kiss against Juniper's cheek, leaving behind a print of pink lipstick. “Yay! Thank you, Junebug!”
“Junebug?”
“Yeah, look scary and hiss a lot but are harmless,” Cole said, throwing his jacket onto the coat rack just on the other side of the bar’s wall as he leaned through the curtain.
“Blondie, nice to see you’ve made it.”
“And on time!” He chuckled with a proud little puff of his chest.
The lights flashed twice, letting us know that we were open to patrons, and Juniper rolled her eyes.
“Barely,” she muttered. “Break a leg, Els.”
“Thank you!” the blonde vampire called back, turning to me as Juniper headed into the bar to get a tray. “Did you get a chance to look at the food?”
I had, if only barely, between running bottles, prepping extra garnishes, and helping Kaylee get into the insanely tight corset she’d be wearing on stage tonight.
The day had barely begun, and I was already exhausted.
“Yeah; I’ll bring you something sweet on my break, okay?”
Elsie smiled, her sharp little fangs poking out from under her lips. “I’d love that.”
“Striker! Look alive!” Ren shouted, and I made a move to step past Elsie, but she stopped me with a hand on my chest.
“One sec,” she said softly, reaching up to press her finger onto my cheek, picking up a stray eyelash. “Make a wish?”
I couldn’t help but laugh, blowing the eyelash from her finger.
I really hope to kiss you tonight.
“What’d you wish for?”
“Can’t say.” I gently took her hand away from where my heart was hammering in my chest. “Or it won’t come true, you know how it is. Have a good show. I’ll see you in a bit?”
“Yeah, for sure,” she answered, her preternaturally pale cheeks pinking in the low backstage light. “You’ll crush it.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Elsie,” I murmured, bringing her fingers to my mouth for a gentle brush of my lips before I disappeared through the curtain.
“Tie that bowtie, Blondie. We’re on,” Ren said, filling champagne buckets with ice out of the large stainless-steel maker. That thing was going to get a better workout than an Olympic swimmer tonight.
Cole sighed and made quick work of the tie, finishing the knot just as the first of our clients made their way down the steps and through the door.
It was going to be a long, long night.
The first few hours of the evening flew by. We were so busy that I hardly caught Elsie’s number—only the end, where she was wrapped in enough pearls to cover her nipples and not much else.
Between pouring champagne, prepping cocktails—a pair that Ren and I devised together that included a smoky, masculine bourbon mixed with herbs and an effervescent pink cocktail with berries—and trying to fill in for the missing staff whenever we could, I was feeling my energy start to stutter by the halfway mark.
I wasn’t the only one, either. Cole, Ren, Dana, and I were manning the bar, with Dana slipping away every so often to check on Nick at the door or crouching behind the bar to check the security cameras.
Not that she could see much of anything, if her annoyed muttering was anything to be believed.
“I think we are chancing the fire code tonight…” she said, glancing up at me from her phone screen, her finger still cycling through the various camera feeds. “I don’t know if I should be thrilled or horrified.”
“Bit of both, unless you want to pray the marshals don’t show up,” Cole said with a shrug. “Never seen this place so crowded! It’s cool.”
“What is this?” Ren asked, pulling a face. “ Coyote Ugly ? No one’s checking code on Valentine’s; everyone wants to be at home with their wife or husband.”
“Or their mistress!” Cole added, unhelpfully.
“Just relax, Dana,” Ren said, shooting him a look. “Be happy that it’s going well.”
“But—”
“Dana,” I interrupted. “Would you like a drink?”
I could practically see the gears turning in her mind as she sighed, glancing between me and the phone. “Yes.”
Ren and Cole shared a look that I pointedly ignored while I poured her a couple of fingers of a good whiskey, dropping one of the cinnamon soaked cherries we’d made into the bottom before handing it to her under the bar.
“It’s going to be fine, okay? New business was the goal, and this—” I motioned to the sea of bodies, packed so tightly that it was hard for the few runners we had to move between patrons. “—is new business. Why don’t you go watch the cameras for a bit? We’re pretty caught up, right, guys?”
It was a lie, but a much-needed one. The more anxious Dana got, the more she pulled Ren’s focus, and the more Ren’s focus was on Dana, the more behind we got on orders.
“Yeah, totally,” Cole fibbed, shooing her off. “Go sit in your office or something.”
Dana downed her drink and took a long, steadying breath before she stood, the empty glass finding a home in a bussing tray as she chewed the cherry. Her hand found my forearm, cool fingers giving a light squeeze against my overheated skin.
“Thanks, just come get me if you need anything.”
I put my hand over hers, the electricity I’d first felt when she’d touched me in her office making my head swim as much as about three glasses of champagne on an empty stomach. “Don’t mention it.”
She released me, though a bit reluctantly, and disappeared into the back.
I sighed in relief giving Ren’s hip a little squeeze as I mentally refocussed on the task at hand.
“Okay, what’s most urgent?” I called to my colleagues, setting a full tray of dirty glassware aside to be bussed away.
“Can you take that tray to the VIP? They’re so understaffed back there tonight, and Juniper can hardly keep up,” Cole said, nodding toward a tray full of finished drinks with a shaker flying in his hands.
“On it! I'll be right back,” I promised, ducking out from the bar to collect the tray.
I weaved through the packed floor to the doors on the far end of the bar, keeping the tray tucked securely against my chest.
Waitresses and donors—what we called the humans who allowed vampires to drink from them in exchange for cash, often in the closed VIP rooms given the side effects of vampire venom—flitted from table to table, the members-only live bar rule temporarily suspended for the night.
Judging by the number of open bites I could see, marking bodies from necks and shoulders to thighs and wrists, it was the right call. Even after calling in our entire backlist of donors, they looked busy .
Usually, if a vampire was trying to be discreet, they’d close the wound with a bit of their saliva. But here? Who and how many meant something, with the donors wearing their many punctures like badges of honour as they worked the floor. A clear sign of exactly how desirable they were to every vampire in here.
It was kind of… hot.
In the time I’d been working at O, I’d been way too busy to do much exploring while we were open to the public. Especially not beyond the intimidating doors that led to the VIP. So this little field trip was sort of a reward, a thrilling peek into the world that I’d been living in the fringes of.
I shifted the tray in my sweaty palm, taking a deep breath to calm my fizzy excitement.
In and out. It’s no different than working the bar.
I pushed my hip against the brass inverted cross, opening the door just enough to slip into the room beyond—if you could call it a room. It was more of a hallway. The space had the same dark hardwood as the main club, but the wallpaper was a textured matte satin that gave the illusion of depth. Along each side of the hall were heavy curtains, most of which pulled shut so that the alcoves beyond were obscured as I passed through the semicircle corridor.
The deep pulse of bass from the main club did nothing to stifle the sounds of pleasure that assaulted me from all sides, my knees wobbling faintly in the dusk-like orange-red glow of the lights.
A few rooms down, the curtains were pulled back to give me my first eager glimpse into one of the alcoves. A gorgeous woman was seated inside, reclined against a plush pink sofa, her tiny white dress hugging her figure in stark contrast to her cool, dark skin. She smiled, twisting one of her long, thin braids around her finger as I approached.
“Don’t see you back here often, sweetness.”
She looked familiar; I recognised her as one of the dancers that sat close to Elsie, Kitty.
“A little short-staffed today, so I'm pitching in,” I offered with a smile, nodding to the tray in my hands.
Not all of the dancers were donors too, but the ones who were—I could only imagine the amount they charged. Judging by how comfortable Kitty looked back here, this wasn’t her first visit into the back rooms.
She scoffed, returning her eyes to the phone clutched in her manicured hand. “Must be, if you have Juniper serving clients.”
I laughed, glancing down at the order slip tucked into the bottom of the tray. “Which one is the crimson room?”
“Last on the left. Have a good shift, Striker.”
"You too," I replied with a wave. “Don’t work too hard.”
I trailed down the hall, the sound of my heels against the hardwood feeling intrusive when undercut by the sounds of skin on skin and breathy moans. When I reached the curtain that Kitty had directed me to, I hesitated.
It wasn’t like I could knock on fabric. Deciding there was nothing else I could do, I curled my fingers into the luxurious fabric of the drape, preparing to pull it back, when a loud, feminine moan slipped through the gap, making me freeze.
Okay, Vi. Be fucking normal.
Another moan, masculine and breathless, had my interest skyrocketing.
Not for the man, I didn’t really have any interest in them. But something about the client dynamic of it all made my heart race.
I let my curiosity temper for a few stuttered beats of my heart, the glasses quivering on the tray as I peeled back the curtain.
A shiver snaked down my sweat-damp spine as I took in the scene.
On a gorgeous French-style sofa was a woman between two men—two vampire men. Her red gown had deep slits in the flowing fabric, showing off bronzed thighs, eyes unfocused as they bit and sucked on her neck, fangs slick with her blood.
A dark-haired vampire turned his stubbled face away from her throat, using a massive hand to pull aside the ruched, deep V of the front of her dress before biting down on her bare breast.
She moaned, much louder this time, drawing a dark chuckle from the redheaded vampire on her other side.
“What should we do about this delicious cunt of yours, hm?” he rumbled in a thick Scottish accent, his hand sliding up the bare skin of her thigh until he was cupping her under her skirt. “Fuck you till you beg us to stop?”
“Are you wet for us?” crooned the dark-haired vampire, tweaking her nipple with his fingers.
I averted my eyes, politely trying to ignore them as I set the tray down on the low glass-topped table in front of them, unloading their drinks on the reflective surface.
“You can watch if you want,” the woman called, and I looked up to see her eager eyes on me as her men bit and sucked their way down her chest. Her hand disappeared into the front of the redhead’s pants, and I straightened, collecting my tray with a little shake of my head.
She was… unfamiliar. Likely one of the on-call girls that they used for big events. And even though the offer was tempting, I shook my head.
“Enjoy.”
“Oh, we will,” said the stubbly vampire, turning the woman’s face for a slow kiss as her skirt rustled with the thrust of fingers.
With a jolt, I was reminded how it was supposed to feel to come when you had vampire venom in your veins. Like ecstasy on steroids. The venom worked like a powerful aphrodisiac, making the world seem both out of focus and sharp at the same time, every touch amplified into a wave of pleasure.
It made sense—biting someone hard enough to break the skin probably hurt like a bitch, no one would want to invite a hungry vampire back for a nibble if there wasn’t something in it for them.
You could get addicted to the instant gratification. Or so I’d heard.
But even I had to admit as I backed out of the alcove on trembling legs, letting the curtain fall shut, that I was… curious. Too curious.
Leaning against the wall at the end of the hall to a symphony of clothes shifting and flesh against flesh, I took a deep breath. It was the first moment all night I hadn’t been running around doing something for somebody. Even if the soundtrack of my stolen break was moans, gasps, and the odd muffled choking cough.
“Enjoying yourself?”
I jumped, finding Juniper watching me with teasing dancing in her cerulean eyes. She’d tied her long, fiery hair up into a ponytail that was pulled over one shoulder, the curled ends dancing as she tilted her head.
“I—” My face heated impossibly more as I tried to come up with any kind of response that didn’t make me sound like some perverted weirdo.
Her lips curved into a knowing smile as she leaned forward to take the tray from my hands with a deep inhale, mouth just barely grazing the shell of my ear. “I suppose that answers that.”
I licked my lips nervously, trying not to think about the gasps and pants underscoring our whispered conversation. Or that Juniper could smell the way my blood rushed in my veins at her proximity.
“Nothing special,” I lied.
Juniper’s laugh was light and melodic as she reached up to gently adjust my hair, close enough I could smell her perfume. Warm and spicy and undercut with something juicy and fresh like sweet oranges. “Sure, Striker.”
“You seem to be having fun.”
“Right now? I’m having a blast… And I like this more than I thought I would.”
“Me too,” I said softly with my hands pressed firmly against the wall to stop myself from grabbing her, though I wasn’t sure if I was talking about O or the coven of vampires I’d been drawn to from the moment I’d laid eyes on it. “I’m going to lunch early; can you tell Cole when you go back to the bar?” I asked breathlessly attempting to side step out of where Juniper had stepped into my body.
“Seamstress, bartender, and messenger girl,” she drawled, though I detected a note of teasing as she twirled the tray absently in her fingers. “Sure; go grab something sweet before you miss out. Unless…”
“Unless?” I echoed, nearly begging her to go on.
Juniper’s eyes moved from mine to my lips before they found a home on the side of my throat. My pulse was so elevated, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she could see it like a physical thing beneath my skin. There was a long, tense silence, her attention feeling both intense and faraway at the same time as I half trembled against the wall with the desire to be touched.
Juniper blinked, shaking her head like she was clearing away the hazy cloud of lust between us as she stepped away. Her expression shuttering as she continued to put distance between us. “Go have lunch, Vi.”
“Right,” I said, casting one last look at the vampire as I headed toward the swinging doors leading to the back of the house. “Try and, um, enjoy yourself.”
It was a bit of a vague response after the strange intensity of the moment before, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Don’t worry,” the vampire called with an arch of her coppery eyebrow. She tightened her ponytail, blowing out a hard breath. “I assure you, I am.”