Chapter 8 – Cerberus
CERBERUS
The club is busy even for a Saturday night. Apparently, a group of tourists are occupying most of the hotel rooms, staying here for a brief time before taking off to some concert in the next city. I don’t mind though. More people means more tips. And human life means needing money.
For one brief minute, all my tables are happy. I stand by the end of the bar, letting my gaze sweep over the crowd. A second later, someone puts a hand on my waist. I whirl around, ready to drive my palm into their nose, but I manage to stop myself before killing my manager.
Gary’s eyes are wide. His hand drops. “Uh, sorry, Cere.”
The fucker must not have realized it was me from behind. For some reason, he’s developed a healthy fear of me.
“Can you take out the trash?”
I nod. A break from the noise would be nice.
Gathering a few bags, not too many for the humans to realize how much stronger I am than I should be for a woman my size, I go out the back door and out into the silence of the night.
The air is crisp. Cool. The perfect temperature for an autumn night.
The moon is still bright, and the stars are dull until I get away from the bright lights of the club and closer to the shadows near the dumpster.
Out here, my hound stretches awake, breathing in the scents of freedom.
Even the dirt and garbage of the city doesn’t destroy it. This place smells of freedom.
When I reach the dumpsters, I glance around, then heft the bags into the dumpster and slam it shut. The sound seems to echo in the silence around me.
Suddenly, a man comes out of the alley. Every muscle in my body tenses, and I regard the hulking man with unease.
He’s got wavy blond hair that frames a startlingly masculine face.
It hugs that line between a man who’s too pretty to radiate the alphaness that my hound needs, and the strength that instantly turns me on.
I watch as his dark eyes move to me, then widen.
What’s he thinking?
“Hello,” he greets.
I consider ignoring him, turning around and pretending he never spoke to me, but I can’t seem to stop staring at him. Not that I’ll let him know how much he’s shaken me.
“Hi.”
The corners of his mouth curl into a smile that seems friendly and confident. My hound purrs within me in response. Not that hounds purr exactly, but I can sense her pleasure at the man’s attention.
His gaze goes to the club. “Is that Club Sulfur?”
I nod. “If you’re looking to get drunk and go home with a strange woman, you’ve come to the right place.”
“Are you offering?” he asks, and there’s a flirty note to his voice that makes it hard to catch my breath.
“Not even a little.”
His smile grows. “I’m Draven, by the way.”
“You passing through with the other tourists?”
He shakes his head. “Just in town for a little business.”
Suddenly, I’m aware of how close he’s come to me, and I stiffen. How did that happen? He’s just a few feet in front of me. Directly in my personal space. And for some reason, I not only hadn’t noticed, my hound hadn’t cared.
That makes me… uneasy.
“Well, the door’s open, no need to stand out here and talk to the staff.”
His smile falters. “Am I bothering you?”
“Do you care if you are?”
I’m surprised by how instantly he goes from pleasant to having an unexpected edge. “Yeah, I do, actually. If I’m bothering you, I’m gone.”
He starts toward the club.
My hand shoots out and grabs his arm.
In shock, I look down at where I’m touching him at the same time he looks down. Then our gazes catch and hold again. Something intense and delicious flows between us. Something that I don’t want to end.
“Sorry,” I say, breathless. “I didn’t mean—“
His smile returns. “It’s okay. How about we just head inside?”
I nod, grateful he didn’t make me apologize. It’s not something I’m particularly good at.
We turn and start slowly toward the club.
The tension between us continues to linger, and I realize for the first time that it’s attraction.
A different kind of attraction than I’ve felt before.
With Soren, he seemed content to keep me at arm’s length.
With this man, I get the sense he’s already claimed me as his own in some way.
Neither my hound nor I know what to think of that.
“How do you like this town?” he asks, his tone light.
The words come easily. “It’s nice. The people are friendly, and it’s beautiful, in its own way.”
He doesn’t speak for a long minute. “Do you feel safe here?”
Is that a normal question? I frown, wishing that I knew more about human interactions. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“I heard about some dog attacks.”
My entire body stiffens. “I…”
We step through the back door to the club, which is exactly when I realize I should’ve had him go in through the front, like a customer.
What the hell is wrong with me? Yes, he’s tall, muscular, and has the kind of face that might just keep me up at night, but I’m not a mortal woman. I don’t swoon over men. I possess them.
And then the screaming starts, coming from a dozen terrified voices all at once.
Voices somewhere inside the club. Instinctually, I know the man beside me will run the other way, that’s what any logical person would do, but I can’t.
Instead, I turn and head right inside, stopping short right when I get the main room of the club in view.
A masked man stands in the middle of the room, waving a gun around. “If no one decides to be a hero,” he shouts, “there’s no reason for anyone to get hurt!” Every muscle in my body tenses as he points the gun at one of the bartenders. “Bag up the money and hand it over.”
“Fuck.” The man from the alley is directly behind me, his voice a whisper.
How did he get here? And what the hell is wrong with him? Smart people don’t run at danger.
I ease him backwards slowly, with my hand on his chest. For some reason, my hound is screaming that I must keep him safe. So we slip out of view and move backwards until we come to the wall.
I shove on it, and it instantly pushes open. The secret storage room for extra liquor. Glancing again toward the front, I push the man inside and close us into the darkness of the small room.
“Stay here,” I whisper. “And don’t make any noise.”
“Are you fucking serious?” His voice is harsh and filled with disbelief. “You stay here. I’m going to go beat the shit out of that guy.”
I catch him before he can open the door. My eyes have adjusted to the darkness. And I can see him. I can sense him, his breathing rapid, his chest filled with a righteous anger.
“No,” I say, pressing my hand against his chest again.
He allows me to move him back a little. “That man wants to get his money and get out. Those people will be safe, as long as no one bothers him. I’m going to go out and make sure that happens.
And you’re going to stay here and stay out of sight. ”
He leans in closer to me, so close his breath is hot on my face. “If all he wants is money, maybe he’s already gone.”
“Maybe,” I tell him. Where’s he going with this?
“So there’s no use in you going out there.”
Is he actually trying to protect me? I hold back a snort of laughter. No one needs to protect a fucking hellhound.
Instead, I simply say, “I can handle myself.”
He reaches up and pushes a few stray strands of hair out of my face. “I have no doubt about that, but here’s the thing, it’ll be a cold day in hell before I let you go out there and put yourself in danger. Especially, as you say, when it’s unnecessary.”
Again, I almost laugh. “Well, I’m not letting you out there either.”
“Then I guess we’re staying in here.” I hear the sound of the lock being flicked into place.
Tension sings between us. He leans in closer—and my phone beeps.
“Fuck,” I whisper, then pull it out of my pocket.
It’s from Stacy.
Where are you? We were just robbed. The police are on their way.
I type back, my pulse racing. If the police come, they’ll ask me for identification, and then they’ll realize I don’t exist, at least not with a human paper-trail. And I’ll be screwed.
I’m hiding in the storage room. The cops can’t find me.
A second later, she responds.
I’ll take care of it. Go to the secret spot.
I shove my phone in my pocket, realizing too late the Draven man had been reading the texts over my shoulder. Shit. That can’t be good. What does he think about my reluctance to talk to the police?
“So, there’s a place here we can hide from these police?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Good. Let’s get there. I have my own reasons for staying off their radar.”
Some of my worry slips from my shoulders.
Going to the back of the storage room, I shove the tiny square on the wall behind some boxes.
The small door swings open, and I slip around the boxes, duck, and enter the small hidden space.
Draven struggles a bit more to climb in, but once he does, I have to step back to give him room.
When the door closes behind him, I slip the wooden bar in place.
Now we’re in a broom-closet-sized room, with just barely enough space for the two of us. It’d take nothing at all to reach out and touch him, but I don’t. Because I have no idea what this man wants right now. For all I know, it’s nothing like I’m wanting.
To be touched. To feel pleasure.
“Do most bars have hidden rooms?” Draven’s voice is husky.
Maybe it’s my imagination, but I think he might feel the tension between us too.
“I think whoever originally built this building had something to hide, but the owner pretty much just uses these areas as extra storage space now.”
Draven nods, and his fingers push back the hair from my face again. His fingertips are both soft and somehow possessive.
Every hair on my body stands on end, and I find myself leaning into his touch. Even my hound seems to be watching and waiting, wanting more.
“You shouldn’t be in this room with a strange man.”
I put my hands on his chest. “Are you saying I should be afraid of you?”