Chapter 30
Star
“Guys… We need to get the hell out of this house!”
Damon glanced up from where he was sketching in his notepad, his lips pressing into a thin line as he pointedly tilted his head toward the other side of the room.
I followed the gesture to where Max was sitting at his desk with his back to us, his nose practically glued to the paper he was studying like it was evidence from a crime scene.
“And we also need to stop looking at those applications,” I added, so there’d be no mistake about why I was suggesting we escape our enclosure.
It had been nearly two weeks since those old-timey photos had mysteriously appeared, and I’d lost count of how many times we’d gone through the stack from Live & Lurk since then.
How many times Max has gone through it, I mean.
Of course, Damon and I helped at first—we did things as a family, after all—but when no one stood out as blatantly suspicious, I moved on to better methods.
Reverse image search and Reddit, duh.
Maybe it was because I was born in the age of tech, but it was my experience that there were few mysteries that couldn't be solved by my fellow internet sleuths.
Dudes living in their parents’ basements have a lot of time on their hands.
And right now, I can relate…
“This one’s a vampire, but the file says ‘woman, she/her, mid-to-late 20s’…” Max muttered, clearly annoyed that whatever enemy profile he’d invented in his mind wasn’t being confirmed.
“Was her previous profession listed as ‘undead photographer’ in Ye Olde West?” I teased, desperate to get my man to lighten up. “Because we’ve already verified every single photo that was sent to us with the Nevada Historical Society. Can we go back to living our lives now?”
Max stiffened in his chair—finally catching on that I was mostly talking to him—before slowly turning in his desk chair to face me.
“I’m simply trying to keep the two of you safe…” he began, but I was tired of this same old argument.
Dead tired.
“We’ve already left the house since those photos arrived,” I pointed out, ignoring his deepening frown. “Yeah, we didn’t know the photos were lurking at the time, but that’s my point. Nothing happened. We’re still alive.”
Kind of…
Not really.
Whatever.
Max looked like he intended to keep arguing, but then Damon backed me up, like the good little wingman he was.
“I would like to go out tonight!” he enthusiastically piped in—probably a little too enthusiastically considering what a known homebody he was. “It’s, um, goth night at Zootz, and I could use the inspiration.”
Ooh!
While the thrill of the hunt was in my blood now—literally—I’d learned a quick meal could be just as satisfying under the right circumstances.
Goth night meant a crowd more than willing to be lured into dark corners and snacked on by vampire “cosplayers” like us, and that submission also served our needs.
Plus the fashion and makeup inspo will be totally righteous.
I could tell Max’s predatory instincts were tempted by the proposed family outing but, big surprise, his protective instincts were louder.
He scrubbed a hand down his face, looking oddly tired for someone who slept like the dead for eight to ten hours per day. “If anyone tries to harm you on my watch—”
“They already have,” Damon vehemently interrupted. “Then you arrived to save us. And we’re stronger now.” He glanced at me and I nodded encouragingly. “Both of us are, and we’ll stick together.”
I could tell Max was torn. As protective as the natural head of our family was, he valued autonomy, and wasn’t at all what I would call controlling.
Except in the bedroom.
And we like it there.
“I would never forgive myself if anything happened to either of you…” he whispered, and my heart ached for everything he was still carrying. Alone.
Time for some tough love.
“Is this really about us, Max?” I asked, quiet but steady. “Or someone else?”
Someone from the past.
Damon hissed in a breath—scandalized by my boldness, no doubt—but I didn’t back down, holding Max’s gaze and sending him so much unconditional love, he had to feel it.
“You’re right,” he replied, and I nearly fainted from shock, until he stood and turned to address Damon. “We should go out tonight. It would do us all some good.”
What…
Before I could call him out on his evasive bullshit, he mumbled something about needing to change for the club and cranked up that vampiric speed to sweep past me and down the hall.
The fuck?
Damon set aside his notepad and gracefully rose from his seat, closing the distance between us and pulling me into his arms.
One of my two favorite places on earth.
“Thank you,” he murmured into my hair, taking a deep inhale of what he called my “sexy girlfriend” scent. “Max will eventually realize he can talk to us, right?”
His voice hitched a little at the end, so I squeezed him tight before stepping back so I could gaze upon his gorgeous face.
The prettiest boy in all the land.
“I think he knows…” I replied, sweeping his long hair off his shoulder and wondering—not for the first time—why Max’s hair was short when he was turned. “Deep down, he knows. Very, very deep…”
We might need an excavator to find it.
“C’mon,” I switched gears, legit excited to leave the nest. “I have a new Bruised and Bloody collection in the works I need to test out on an innocent victim.”
Damon chuckled, pliant as always as I pulled him down the hall, toward my fabulous dressing room and mad scientist makeup lab. “Innocent, but extremely willing for you to have your way with me.”
Don’t I know it!
It was tempting to bend this hottie over the vanity, as I’d done many times before, but I was determined to get us all the hell out of the house before Max’s paranoia ramped up to level eleven.
An hour later, Damon was a masterpiece—his perfect, pouty lips lined in black and haloed in blurry blood red, and his otherworldly eyes highlighted with a fierce blend of deep purple and mauve with red and silver accents.
And for me?
Matching, of course.
We’d decided on a slinky black maxi dress with long sleeves and double slits all the way up to my fishnet-covered hipbones for me, and a deep vee, black ruffled blouse tucked into leather pants for him.
After adding as many silver accessories as possible, we laced up our big black boots and stomped downstairs to find Max.
Since it doesn’t take him nearly as long to get ready…
Despite being much lower maintenance, Max cleaned up nicely, and tonight he’d chosen a look from Damon’s Gothabilly line.
Crisp slacks were paired with a black, Western-style collared shirt with black spiderwebs embroidered on the shoulders.
This detail was hidden at the moment, since he’d topped it with a black leather jacket, but I couldn’t be mad when he looked so fine.
It’s a hard life, having the hottest boyfriends ever.
Having Mags as my bestie with two matched mates of her own made for fun gossip sessions, but it was still difficult to explain exactly how these men fulfilled me so completely.
How we all complement each other.
Our strengths supported the others where they struggled and, most importantly, we didn’t see these struggles as weaknesses.
At least… some of us don’t.
Damon was battling his own self-worth issues when we met, and while Max tried to credit me with helping his first love find himself again, I disagreed.
Yeah, our shared obsession with makeup might have nudged Damon in the right direction, but he’d put in the work—first with acknowledging he had things to work on and then with finding the tools to do so.
If only some other vampires around here would do the same…
“Ready?” Max’s voice brought me back to the present, his gaze roaming over our outfits, drinking us in as appreciatively as ever.
“Are you?” I curtly replied, with more bite to my tone than I’d intended.
Oh well.
His rich, brown eyes lit up in challenge as that signature, filthy smirk curled his lip. “Is the lack of a collar making you forget who owns you?”
I knew he was only teasing. Damon and I rarely wore our collars while hunting, and especially not when we were doing so among humans who understood the significance from a BDSM standpoint.
It allowed us to more easily lure in victims who might—mistakenly—believe we were available, and made it easier to feed from each other once we got home.
Blood-drunk fucking is the best!
“Never,” I cupped his face in my hands and leaned down to kiss him. “But I’m taking the lead tonight. I’m thinking a blonde, baby goth might be on the menu.”
Damon arched an eyebrow but didn’t comment. Max grinned. “Sounds delicious. Feel free to put on a good show for me.”
Always.
One of the countless things I loved about my guys was how they’d awakened—and encouraged—my “Dommy Mommy” side. Damon loved it in the bedroom, of course, but Max just liked to watch, and there was nothing he liked more than watching me take someone apart.
Twenty minutes later, we reached the nightlife district of Cape Dawn.
Parking our Ducatis in a nearby garage, I led us past the line of humans waiting in the cold outside Zootz.
After that, it was child’s play to compel the doorman into unhooking the velvet rope and opening the heavy metal door for us, causing deafening darkwave beats to pour out into the street.
Once inside, I waved away the gaunt server offering us cheesy red shooters served in blood vials and scanned the crowd dancing beneath the strobes and blacklights, searching for the first course.
There she is.
An adorable snack, dressed in wide fishnets, a tight black miniskirt, and a cropped Cramps tee shirt, with shit-kicker boots that maybe pushed her over five feet tall. Her platinum hair was pulled into a pair of high pigtails with the ends dyed in Harley Quinn blue and red.
Her eyes were closed as she swayed to the beat, so I paused to assess how drunk she actually was.
Consent is key!
After watching her angrily, but resolutely, shove off a random man who tried to grind up on her without permission, I grinned.
Good girl.
Max nodded and melted into the shadows while Damon and I moved in on our prey.
“Hey!” I shouted over the music as we began dancing next to her. “If these losers keep bothering you, feel free to just pretend you’re with us.”
She smiled wide and genuine, and my fangs lengthened at the thought of how sweet she would taste.
Baby goths are the yummiest.
A few minutes later, I’d learned her name was Amber and she worked in finance, but looked forward to goth night every week so she could just sweat the 9-to-5 out of her system.
As we chatted—best we could over the synth—she grabbed two “blood” shooters from a passing waiter. When I declined the offer, she downed both in rapid fire. After that, I sent Damon to the bar for bottled water, insisting she stay hydrated.
And mostly sober.
Amber didn’t seem to mind being bossed around—I was pretty sure she liked it—and soon the three of us were dancing as one, with me in the middle so she wouldn’t feel weird.
“Your fangs look so real,” she cooed in my ear, pressing her hot little body against mine while draping her arm around my neck. “So hotttt…”
That’s my cue.
“They feel real too,” I purred into her ear, licking the vanilla body mist-tinged sweat off her neck like an appetizer. “I could bite you if you want?”
I untangled myself from her grasp so I could see the reaction on her face, and I wasn’t disappointed. Amber’s blue eyes were wide, flickering over my shoulder to Damon—as if checking whether he would care—her heart rate ratcheting up as she scented the air with obvious arousal.
Yeah, you want it.
“Fuck, yes!” She nodded eagerly, quickly tucking her pigtails into space buns to get her hair out of the way. “I’ve always wanted to know what it feels like.”
Sounds like fate to me!
I licked my lips. “I’ll gladly show you…” Then, I spun her around and wrapped an arm around her middle, firmly pressing her back against my chest—knowing the angle would give Max the best possible view. “Just say red if you want me to stop, or pinch my arm.”
“Okay…” she murmured dreamily, already going limp in my hold, although she released the sweetest gasp when my fangs brushed her neck.
Such a good, good girl.
Knowing no one around us was seeing anything other than the usual Zootz dance floor debauchery, I lowered my head. My fangs sank into her smooth skin like a knife through butter, and I shut my eyes as the sweet, metallic taste of her blood hit my tastebuds.
“F-f-f-uuuuuck…” Amber moaned, raising both arms to drape behind my neck, rolling her hips as if desperate for friction. “Oh, fuck…”
“This is exactly what I want you to do to me when we get home, gorgeous,” Damon whispered in my ear—low enough so only I could hear. “Bite me until I come.”
My eyes flew open as Amber began to shake. It didn’t happen every time we fed, but some humans were more responsive to the bite than others.
Pain sluts.
Just like my man.
I tried to pull off, but my first meal of the evening gripped the back of my head with urgency. “Don’t stop!” she gasped. “Please, please don’t stop.”
Whatever you say, little bloodbag.
I held her through her orgasm, then compelled her into drinking the goddamn bottled water and telling me her address so we could get her into a Women+ Lyft and send her home.
“Time for a taste,” Max’s smooth voice in my ear had me dropping my head back, allowing him to drink Amber’s blood from my neck while Damon pierced my wrist to have his fill.
“All right, boys,” I chuckled as they both pulled off with matching groans. “Let’s find our next course for the night.”