Chapter 2
2
ESME
I leaned against the bar at The Purple Fang, my gaze locked on Brogan as he riled up the crowd.
Here, in this sultry underworld of New Orleans, the strippers on the stage fed not just on lust, but on blood…
At least, that was my working theory. And the first lines I'd written in my journal last night.
Tearing my eyes away for a second, I laughed to myself as I took a sip of the Paloma Elias had just set in front of me without my having to ask. I thanked him with a smile as he took the cash I'd set on the bar, flashed his fangs with a grin and a wink, and went back to straightening the bottles on the shelves. He was always cleaning and organizing when he wasn't making drinks. It made me wonder if he was this meticulous at home.
Did vampires have disorders such as OCD?
I checked myself with that thought. I didn't know for sure they were vampires. I couldn't prove it. But I'd been doing a lot of research to fill my days since I'd arrived here, and I felt it in my bones—the males who worked in this bar weren't human. Not anymore. And I had my suspicions about the pretty black female with the nerdy glasses who spent most of her time in the back office.
What was her name?
Oh. Kenya.
I took another sip of my drink. As always, the women in the audience were enraptured. They crowded around the stage like a bunch of mujeres tontas —foolish women—throwing their money at Brogan as he stripped for them, showing off hard arms and abs and a perfect ass. My hard-earned cash, however, I kept tucked securely in my lacy red bra. I needed it a hell of a lot more than he did.
My jaw dropped in disbelief as a woman with at least three pounds of plastic beads around her neck waved a stack of hundred-dollar bills at him to try to get his attention. I could've fed myself and my family for weeks with that money back in Mexico. Brogan smiled and winked, calling her to the front, then leaning down to shout something in her ear over the music.
I didn’t have to hear him to know what he said. It was clear by the expression on her face that he’d invited her to a private show. He would take her cash—money that would be better spent on something like, oh, no sé , a basket full of voodoo dolls—and escort her into the back room, where she'd get an up close and personal private dance, lose about a pint or so of blood, and only remember that she'd had a really, really good time. I'd seen the other dancers do this a dozen times now. Although this was the first time since that first night that I'd seen Brogan take someone back there.
But again, I couldn't prove any of this.
As the woman rushed to their meeting place, I could feel the heady mix of fear, excitement, and lust that emanated from her, thick and cloying in the air.
I sighed, wishing I could warn her. But, Dios , even I wasn't immune to the allure of this particular vampire. His intoxicating blend of danger and seduction and copious amounts of charm drew men and women alike to offer themselves to him. The poor people here had no chance of fighting it. Besides, she was a grown woman. She could make her own decisions, and if my past observations were right, she'd come out of there none the worse for wear.
Still, there was a strange tightness in my chest, a feeling both foreign and disconcerting, when I watched Brogan stride off the stage practically naked, the defined muscles in his back and ass and legs both powerful and graceful. His hand went to the small of the woman's back as he gently led her to dinner.
His dinner.
My imagination went into overdrive as I envisioned the woman sitting on a couch with Brogan's large, nearly nude body draped over her, and I raised my palms to my suddenly overheated face. Despite knowing I should look away and stop drawing attention to myself, my eyes never left the closed curtain as I wondered what it felt like for her to have his fangs pierce her throat. Did she panic? Did he play some kind of mind tricks with her?
Or did she like the pain?
Less than ten minutes later, Brogan emerged from the back room and sent the grinning woman back to her group of friends with a slap to her ass and minus the beads she was wearing when she went in. They cheered and whistled as she hurried over to them, her skin a little paler than before, but her smile so bright her friends didn’t seem to notice under the dim lights.
Something bold and reckless suddenly surged through me, and I slid off my bar stool. For a moment, I was afraid he would just ignore me as he'd been doing all night, but to my immense satisfaction, Brogan's attention immediately zeroed in on me.
Avoiding his eyes, I walked past him, my shoulder brushing his in a deliberate, charged moment. Despite his recent meal, I felt his heated gaze following me from the back of my head all the way down to my four-inch red heels that matched my lipstick as I made way down the hall where the restrooms were located.
A feeling of relief rushed through me. He wasn't so disinterested, after all.
Out of sight, I paused for just a moment in front of the bathroom door and took a deep, steadying breath. I needed to get a grip on these unfamiliar emotions before they caused me to do something rash.
With a resolute shake of my head, I pushed open the door and stepped inside, locking it behind me. Turning, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror—cheeks flushed, dark eyes bright with excitement. I hardly recognized this person anymore. This wasn't the poised, confident woman I knew myself to be. This was someone...desperate. Unhinged, even. And it had nothing to do with the real reason I'd decided to stay in the city, hanging out at this club every chance I got, and everything to do with the red-hot jealousy burning like lava through my veins.
I pressed my palms against the cool, smooth surface of the vanity, gripping the edges tightly as I forced my thoughts to slow. I'd come here tonight with a purpose, a plan. I couldn't let my attraction to Brogan derail that. Not when I was so close to unraveling the mystery surrounding him and his kind.
Not when I was so close to being able to stop running.
Taking another deep breath, I schooled my features into an expression of cool indifference. It was time to put my plan into action. If that vapid little thing could garner Brogan's attention, then so could I. He was attracted to me. That wasn't hard to see. And I would use every feminine wile I had to get the answers I needed before it was too late and I was discovered here.
A newfound purpose filled me as I stared at someone a little more familiar in the reflection.
Squaring my shoulders and lifting my chin, I opened the bathroom door and marched out with a determination that was completely thrown off when I hit a hard, slick wall of muscle.
"Where are you goin', darlin'?"
The underlying tone of Brogan's deep voice sent shivers ghosting across my skin as I threw up my hands a moment too late. They slid down his hard abs as I took a quick step back, wiping body oil off my nose with the back of my hand. Then I stepped back once more, just for good measure. "Nowhere. I just needed to freshen up a bit. And now I'll have to do it again." I looked pointedly at my oily palms.
His green eyes searched my face, looking for the lie. And I couldn't say that I blamed him. I'd been lying to him since the first time we'd ever spoken.
Suddenly, he grabbed my wrist in a tight grip. "Come with me."
Not leaving me with any choice, I followed him down the hall back toward the main room of the club. I was about to dig in my four-inch, ruby red heels—I didn't want everyone in the club watching him manhandle me—when he veered down another dark hall I hadn't noticed before that ended at a heavy metal door. Pushing it open, he dragged me inside, not releasing me until he'd shut and locked the door behind us.
Lifting his chin, he inhaled deep as he scanned the room, then cocked his head like he was listening.
I followed his gaze, seeing nothing but a row of metal lockers and a doorway that led to what must be showers or toilets. Or maybe both.
When he seemed satisfied that we were alone, he nailed me with those green eyes once again. I resisted the urge to take another step back. That would only give me a better view of him, and he was still only wearing his G-string. As it was, I'd be lucky if I'd be able to have a coherent conversation with him so close, practically naked, and smelling so good with all those lean muscles on full display. So I stood there, blinking up at him, and waited for him to tell me why he'd dragged me in here.
His eyes dropped to the low neckline of my red blouse, lingering there for a moment before shooting back to my face. "I think it's time you and I stopped dancing around each other and had a truthful conversation."
I crossed my arms in front of me, knowing full well the position pushed up my breasts. "Can you put some clothes on first?"
A devilish grin slowly spread across his face until those little lines appeared in the corners of his eyes. "No."
Dropping my arms down to my sides, I turned toward the door and grabbed the handle. "Then I'm not talking to you." I tugged hard, belatedly remembering that he'd locked it. But when I went to turn the deadbolt, he closed his hand over mine and pulled my arm down. I stiffened when I felt him against my back, so close I could feel the heat radiating from him and the hard ridge of his cock against my upper ass.
"I just want to talk," he told me, his voice low and rough. "I don't date customers."
Yes, yes. He'd told me this before, and I sincerely doubted it. He just didn’t want to date me .
Pushing aside the hurt of that truth, I tried to think of a way to escape this conversation. However, without exposing my magical abilities, I didn't have much of a choice but to hear him out. Taking a step to the side, I eased around him and put some distance between us, forcing him to turn his back to the door so he could face me.
"Alright," I told him, keeping my eyes on his handsome face and not on the smooth, slick chest muscles rising and falling with his every breath. "Then talk."
Brogan stared at me for a few seconds, then closed the distance I'd put between us as though he couldn't help himself. I held my ground, tilting my chin up defiantly when he stopped mere inches from me. The pleasant, musky scent of body oil and male filled my nostrils.
"You've been coming here for weeks now," he said. "Watching me. Asking questions." His voice was low, almost a growl. "You've flirted with me, lied to me, laughed at me, forced your company on me, and made me crazy thinking about…" He trailed off.
“About?” I interrupted. I really wanted to hear the rest of that thought.
Without answering me, he took a breath and regrouped. "I think it's about time you were honest with me. Just this once. Stop with the games and tell me, darlin', what is it you really want to know?"
I swallowed hard and tried to slow my heartbeat. I didn't trust this. If I told him about my suspicions, he'd laugh at me. Or kill me. He wasn't ready for honesty yet. And until he was, I would continue to dance around the subject until I had something more solid to base my argument on. "I told you. I'm just curious about you and what you do for a living. And…I like you."
He smiled at that, leaning closer, his breath hot against my ear. "Curious about what? Exactly? The club? The dancing? The women?" His lips brushed the shell of my ear as he spoke. "Because, somehow, you've managed to take up hours of my time without telling me a goddamn thing about yourself." He inhaled, smelling my hair. "And I'm beginning to think it's more than just a crush bringing you here."
I shivered, my body responding to his proximity even as my mind screamed at me to put some distance between us. It took me three times to get the words past my tongue, which suddenly felt way too thick in my mouth. "I don't know what you're talking about. And I told you, it's not a crush."
Brogan chuckled softly. "Don't play coy with me, darlin'. You're not like the other women who come here. You're not here for the show." His hand came up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. "At least not entirely. So why don't you tell me the truth?"
I jerked my face away from his touch. "I am telling you the truth. I find this place...the club, the people…you," I admitted, adding a grain of truth, "intriguing. That's all."
"Intriguing?" He arched a brow. "I call it stalking."
My eyes widened. "I never?—"
"You did." He cut me off. "But that's okay. I honestly don't mind that much."
I glared up at him. "I'm not stalking you."
"No?" He almost looked disappointed.
"No," I insisted. "I don't even know where you live."
"Should I tell you so you can stalk me properly?"
"No!" I nearly shouted before my curiosity got the better of me. Dios mío ! I couldn't keep up with the different moods of this man. After nights of giving me the cold shoulder, then losing patience and dragging me down the hall, he was back to being the arrogant tease I'd met that first night.
He cocked his head, those magnífico eyes seeing way more than they should. "Should we just fuck so we can both get on with our lives?"
For a few seconds, I could only blink at him. The gall of this man. "That's not what I want from you."
Isn’t it? An evil voice inside of me asked.
"That's what you’re telling me, darlin', but I happen to know you're lying."
"You don't know any such thing."
The smile that slowly spread across his face this time was downright sinful. "Then tell me why your heart's pounding so damn fast, making your blood race through your veins? It's not fear." He shook his head. "Oh no, you're not scared of me." His voice lowered a few octaves. "You're wet for me. I can smell it."
All I could do was stare up at this devil standing in front of me. Everything he'd just said was true. I couldn't control my reaction to him, but it wasn't anything I would admit out loud. Wait…"How do you know my blood is racing? Or what my desire smells like without your face between my thighs?"
My forthright words seemed to take him aback for a few brief seconds as his smug expression froze on his face.
Gotcha.
He straightened and scowled down at me, and I was able to take my first full breath since he'd locked us in here. Perhaps he was right, and it was time to be honest with him. Maybe he would just tell me what I wanted to know.
"Okay. Fine. I'll play. What are you, Brogan?”
The cocky mask fell back over his face as he threw my question back at me. "What do you think I am? Other than an average guy just trying to make a living?"
Oh, there was nothing at all average about the male standing before me.
I bit my lip, my mind racing as fast as my pulse. No. I couldn't just blurt out the truth—that I believed he and the others were vampires. If I was wrong, he'd think I was insane. And if I was right, he'd know I knew the truth. And what if he wasn't ready to tell me?
I knew what. He'd do what he had to do to protect himself and his kind.
Me and my big mouth. I never should've said anything.
"I think you're just a man," I lied, my voice wavering slightly. "A very talented, very moody, very mysterious man. But a man, nonetheless."
He studied me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. I forced myself to hold his gaze, praying again that he wouldn't see through my deception.
Finally, he stepped back, and I fought the urge to sway toward him. "Alright then. If that's all I am to you, then I suppose there's no reason for you to keep coming around, is there?"
It was a challenge. A test. And one I knew I was going to fail miserably.
Because despite the danger, despite every instinct telling me to run, I couldn't stay away from him. From this place.
And I also couldn't tell him why. Not until I had more evidence that what I suspected was true.