Chapter 7
Chapter seven
Arriving on a cracked and pockmarked sidewalk across the street from the Sky Lounge, Sammy grudgingly admitted to himself that Dominic had been right.
Oh, teleporting—or jumping as his mate called it—still sucked. His head spun, and his legs wobbled, but it hadn’t been nearly as bad as the first time. He felt a little hiccup in his stomach, but nothing unmanageable.
More importantly, his shoes and his dignity remained intact. He’d take that as a win.
“Seems kind of dead,” Chapel commented.
A few people congregated near the entrance, mostly businessmen dressed in their suits and ties. Not unusual for a weekday evening, especially before sunset.
In his experience, most people didn’t like to be seen frequenting such establishments, even if nothing technically illegal happened beyond the doors.
“It’ll pick up in a couple of hours,” he told her. “We’re a little early.”
“I guess I got all dressed up for nothing.”
Sammy laughed. While she objectively looked stunning in anything, he wouldn’t call a black tank top and skinny jeans club attire. The knee-high combat boots were a nice touch, though.
Beside him, Dominic grunted. “We’re not here to socialize.”
Chapel straightened at his admonishment and nodded seriously. “Yeah, Sammy. Get it together.”
“I will bury you in the back garden,” Dominic said, punctuating the threat with a low growl. “And you.” He pointed a finger in Sammy’s face. “Don’t encourage her.”
Smothering a chuckle, Sammy turned away to hide his smile. He managed to keep it together, too, right up until Chapel caught his eye and winked.
“I swear to the gods,” Dominic grumbled when Sammy’s soft snorts turned into quiet laughter. “Let’s get this over with.”
Which only made him laugh harder. His mate looked absolutely done with both of them.
“Come on,” he said, pointing to a shadowed alley between the club and a pizzeria. “We can go in through the side entrance.”
The wolves followed him across the street, letting him lead until they reached the mouth of the alleyway. There, Dominic stopped him with a hand on his shoulder—the weight warm and comforting rather than controlling—while Chapel did a sweep from one end to the other.
Sammy had used the route thousands of times without incident during his employment at the Sky Lounge. So, to him, the caution felt unnecessary, but he said nothing and waited for Chapel to give the all-clear.
Gray and drab with rust along the bottom, the metal service door showed signs of its age.
The numbers on the electronic keypad beside it had been worn away over the years, but Sammy didn’t need them.
Relying on muscle memory, he punched in the code, then stepped back when the lock disengaged with a hollow clunk.
Chapel entered first, but Dominic held him back when he started to follow, keeping a hand on his nape until the female motioned for them to join her. The whole thing felt kind of intense, but he didn’t mind.
It wasn’t exactly a hardship having his mate’s hands on him.
For days, he had been going over every possible scenario, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. Turns out, he had been confused.
It would be easy to dismiss people as stupid or lazy for knowing so little about changelings, and many did. In reality, even he didn’t know how his abilities worked. It just kind of happened.
While he could become anyone’s fantasy in both appearance and temperament, he didn’t actually know what they liked. He didn’t receive flashes of their thoughts. No mysterious voice whispered in his ear. Nothing informed him on a conscious level that someone preferred blue eyes or dark hair.
It started with a faint hum of electricity, a current that connected him to the other person. The longer he spent with them, the stronger the tether became, always tugging, pulling him deeper.
Sometimes he could resist. Sometimes he couldn’t. And he never knew which it would be until it had already happened.
With Dominic, there had been no spark, no current. There had been nothing for him to fight against, and he’d misinterpreted the lack of friction as a divide in their bond.
He had started piecing it together the previous night, but it hadn’t been until Dominic had come to his door that he’d been able to test his theory.
The moment he’d locked eyes with his mate, his pulse had jumped, and he’d felt a flutter of excitement in his stomach. Only this time, it hadn’t been tainted by unconscious desires. The reaction had been purely his own.
Maybe wires had gotten crossed, or maybe he had needed time to separate their mate bond from his changeling abilities. Whatever the case, he now understood what his friends had been going on about.
And it was both exhilarating and frightening in equal measure.
Following behind Chapel, they made their way down a dimly lit corridor that branched off into the employee breakroom, the kitchen, and the front of the club. He motioned them straight ahead.
“Kiev will be out on the floor right now.”
“You can wait here,” Dominic said, stepping forward to block his path.
While he appreciated the concern, he didn’t need it. “I’m fine, really. Besides, you don’t know what he looks like.”
His time at the Sky Lounge hadn’t been all bad. He’d spent the first two years of his employment working in the kitchen as a dishwasher, only moving out to the front after he’d turned eighteen.
For the most part, everything operated within the law.
His pay had been abysmal, but he’d been allowed to keep half his tips, and he’d attracted plenty of wealthy regulars.
Yes, some of the other hosts met with clients outside of business hours, a practice highly encouraged by management, but it had never been mandatory.
Sammy had tried it once, but he’d quickly decided it wasn’t for him.
Overall, it hadn’t been a terrible job. In fact, he might have worked there voluntarily if given the choice. But he hadn’t been given a choice, and therein was the problem.
The blood magic didn’t turn him into a robot, but it had kept him bound and obedient. He hadn’t been able to decide how often he worked, for how long, or even which customers he engaged with.
He certainly hadn’t been allowed the option to leave once he had outgrown the place.
When he had walked out those doors for the last time, he had promised himself he would never allow anyone to have that kind of control over him again. A worthy goal, to be sure, but he should have known his mother wouldn’t let him go that easily.
“This way,” he said, nodding his head toward the sapphire velvet curtain at the end of another, shorter hallway. “He’s probably on the VIP deck.”
Popular for semi-private events, the Mezzanine jutted above the DJ booth to overlook the main club. Decorated in hues of deep blue and sterling silver, with plush sofas and a private bar, it attracted a very particular type of clientele.
Rich, influential, powerful, and…generous.
Every host hoped to be assigned to the balcony, but only a few ever made the cut. Sammy had, of course, spent a lot of time in the Mezzanine. As a powerful siren capable of influencing moods, Kiev was another top choice, especially for larger parties.
Music pumped from speakers set into the rafters, but the volume remained low enough to encourage conversation without shouting. More of an accompaniment than the main event.
Instead of a dance floor, multiple seating areas filled the space. Some had only two chairs and a small table. Others boasted large, curved sofas with high backs and winged arms. No matter their size, they were all carefully designed for one purpose.
Intimacy.
Real or manufactured, it didn’t matter. As long as customers felt seen and valued, they had no problem opening their wallets.
A rope stretched across the narrow staircase that led to the Mezzanine. Beside the bottom step, a metal stand held a sign that informed them the VIP deck had been reserved.
Sammy unhooked the rope and started up the stairs.
“Are you sure he’s up there?”
Dominic hovered at his back, so close Sammy could feel his breath against his ear. He shivered and swallowed back a groan but kept climbing.
“No, not for sure, but if there’s a party later, he’s probably preparing for it.”
“What if he’s not working tonight?” Chapel asked from the back of the line.
Sammy snorted. “The hosts work every night except Sundays, when the club is closed. He’s here.”
Sure enough, they found Kiev behind the bar, his head bent over a cutting board as he sliced an array of different fruits.
Average height with a narrow build, he wore the standard uniform—white button-down, black slacks, and a silk bowtie. He’d colored his shaggy waves a rich mahogany since the last time Sammy had seen him, lending warmth to the golden undertones of his complexion.
With his round cheeks and unlined skin, no one would guess he had recently celebrated his centennial birthday.
He looked up when they approached, his face cycling through several emotions before settling into what he probably meant to be a charming smile. Blacklights from the mirrored wall behind him lit up his teeth and the whites of his eyes like a neon sign, though, kind of ruining the effect.
Sammy smiled back.
“Sammy!” He placed the knife down on the cutting board and wiped his hands on the towel draped over his shoulder. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“We wanted to ask you some questions,” he answered bluntly. No point beating around the bush about it. “This is Dominic Rivas and Chapel Bridger. They’re from—”
“The Blackrock Pack.” Kiev swallowed visibly, his prominent Adam’s apple bouncing along the column of his throat. “Did I do something?”
“Remains to be seen,” Dominic muttered.
Sammy glared at him, then turned back to Kiev with a reassuring smile. “We want to ask you about the night my mom came to the club.”
“Oh, okay. Yeah.” His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and his gaze kept sliding back to Dominic. “What do you want to know?”