Chapter 2 Peter
Peter
His mood had been noticed, clearly, if the way people were avoiding him was any indication.
Peter didn’t mind, although he would have liked to glower at some of the new lawyers fresh out of law school.
One of them was a succubus, and Peter hadn’t glowered at a ’cubus in a long time.
Plus, the fresh legal meat always had to be broken in properly.
Peter made a mental note to schedule a performance review with the succubus.
Once he was behind the wheel of his black Mercedes, Peter drove straight to Madame Celeste’s Boudoir, which sounded like a brothel because it was one.
It also catered to supernaturals like Peter, thus avoiding the need for compulsion and all that tedious stuff.
Peter had nothing against compulsion for the most part, but he liked to drink from someone who was willing, even if they were only willing to get paid.
Celeste’s building was an unassuming townhouse with a private underground parking lot and good security. The latter served both the people who worked for Celeste and the patrons, ensuring their supernatural identity remained on the confidential side of things.
Peter, in fact, had played a part in helping Celeste get the security by sharing some of his contacts with her. He’d also helped her purchase the building, thus allowing her to build something secure in the first place—not an easy feat in that particular line of business.
Parking was divided into two areas, one for employees and one for clients. At this time of the afternoon, there weren’t many cars there yet, and Peter was able to snag a spot right by the elevators.
A troll attended the elevator and pushed the button for patrons. Peter ignored him. Trolls weren’t susceptible to his moods, so the effort would’ve been wasted.
“Welcome to the Boudoir,” the troll said in his low voice as the elevator arrived on the first floor.
The efficiency with which the place was run was refreshing, and Peter could appreciate it even in his generalized state of crankiness.
Celeste was an exceptional entrepreneur, and the Boudoir was her vision—one she had easily brought into existence with a little help from Peter where legal and other… hands-on matters were concerned.
The first floor of the Boudoir was the place for mingling.
It reminded Peter of the plush coffee houses he had frequented on the Continent back in the late 1800s, though Celeste had gone above and beyond to make sure everything was stylish, fancy, and in keeping with the times.
There was gold and black, purple and red, and shades of blues and oranges.
Things smelled nice too, in part because of flowers, in part because Peter had put Celeste in touch with a good witch.
Here, those patrons looking for a sexual experience could find one of Celeste’s employees willing to take them on and blow their…
minds. The interconnected rooms were large, but offered tables and couches made more intimate by tasteful dividers in light gold and shimmery silver.
There was just something welcoming in the way everything had been put together, and Peter knew some people came here just to grab an after-work drink and talk to the variously skilled sex experts in Celeste’s employ.
“Peter, darling, so good to see you again,” Celeste said when she saw Peter walk toward her.
Celeste was mixing a drink behind the bar, but she stopped to step out and greet Peter.
She wore what Peter knew to be her before-happy-hour attire: navy pants, dangerously high heels, a cream blouse with a star pattern, and not nearly as much makeup as she put on after happy hour.
She’d trimmed her beard back since Peter had last been here, showing off her angular jaw.
“Celeste,” Peter said, allowing her to kiss both his cheeks, her beard slightly irritating on his smooth skin. It was a little awkward, given that her heels made her several inches taller than Peter.
Celeste’s eyes twinkled. “I am so glad you came in today. I have something you will like.” She cocked her head. “That is, assuming you’re here to play? I can never tell with you.”
“All I’d like is a willing blood donor,” Peter grumbled.
Celeste slapped his shoulder and rolled her eyes. “That mood, huh? Did I tell you some of my birds have taken to calling you the hangry vampire?”
“I don’t get hangry,” Peter said, but he glanced around just in case any of the employees were within earshot.
Her beard did little to hide Celeste’s grin. “You say that, but we both know different. It’s like all those men who tell me they don’t like cock when they book their time with me, and after we’re done, they’re fans all of a sudden.”
Peter had never seen, much less experienced Celeste’s cock. It would’ve been unprofessional even if she had offered.
“I’m already aware that I like cock.”
She raised a brow. “I know, though you spend half your time with us looking at other people making out. Some of my birds wonder whether you’d like them to put on a show for you?”
Peter ground his teeth. I have sweet Corvin and Michael now. I can watch them. If only they’d let me…
“I’m fine,” Peter said, forcing his voice to remain as flat as a Dutchman’s humor.
“‘Fine’ he says,” Celeste purred. “If you say so, Peter. Now, come. Let me introduce you.” She took his hand and pulled him with her to one of the other rooms.
Peter did not get pulled along, ever, but he was not about to point that out to Celeste.
She came to a stop in front of a small table.
One of the people sitting there was a woman Peter recognized from his previous visits.
She’d been in Celeste’s employ for a few years now, was an excellent dancer, and had let Peter drink her blood a few times.
The young man next to her was a new face though, and Peter knew immediately that Celeste understood him better than he even understood himself. That rankled, but it wasn’t something he’d dwell on long.
Speaking of long, those lashes almost look fake…
The man with the long lashes was in his early twenties, but his eyes looked older, like he had seen things he hadn’t been ready to see.
He was lean, just a hair past skinny, and the ends of his messy black hair grazed his high cheekbones.
He had green eyes—not a muddy shade, but a bright jade that was arresting in the very best of ways.
Celeste indicated the woman. “You know Marie. This,” she added with a knowing grin not quite hidden under her beard, “is Puck. Puck, meet Peter.”
Puck, which of course wasn’t his real name, looked up at Peter. The man’s gaze was assessing. Peter recognized that look. It was not a hungry one, but the kind of look one used to judge someone else’s threat level.
Peter ground his teeth. He should know he’s safe here, and yet… Did someone hurt him? Take advantage of him?
The idea didn’t sit right with Peter, made him want to get into someone’s face, maybe even rip someone’s face off. It’s the blood. I should’ve eaten long ago, should’ve come here sooner. Did someone hurt him while working here? No, Celeste wouldn’t allow that…
“A pleasure,” Peter said, careful to keep his tone cordial and nothing more in an attempt not to freak Puck out.
Marie covered her mouth with her hand as she chuckled. “I’m feeling ignored, Mr. Collins.”
“My apologies, Marie. Always a pleasure to see you.”
“Though not tonight.”
Celeste and Marie exchanged a look before Celeste went on.
“Puck is new. He’s only been with us for about two months.
In fact, this is only his first day out of training.
He’s been observing and learning the ropes, but I think you’re the right kind of gentleman to help him get his feet wet.
” She turned to Puck. “Puck, Peter is here for something warm-blooded. Nothing but a drink.” She looked back at Peter. “Unless of course—”
Peter took a deep breath. “No. Just a drink, Celeste.”
Puck’s eyes had narrowed slightly, and his jaw tightened, yet he wasn’t so unskilled as to let raw distrust and contempt show on his face. He schooled his expression within moments.
Celeste frowned. “Ah, Peter. Ever so cold.”
“Not at all, Celeste. Perhaps someone else is able to provide me with a drink? I wouldn’t want Puck to lose the night to exhaustion.”
“Well, since you’ll pay for the entire night, I don’t see what the problem is, Peter,” Celeste said. “Puck?”
Peter knew the arrangement Celeste had with her employees.
Puck might have rejected him now, indirectly, but he could choose to take this job or not.
Celeste was an excellent boss that way. She also vetted each client and provided her people with training and health benefits.
What she expected in return was professionalism and loyalty.
Puck stood with the grace of someone who’d learned how to use the hungry eyes of others to his advantage. He nodded at Celeste, confirming that he was happy to take Peter upstairs.
“Wonderful.” Celeste’s eyes were twinkling, her smile bright. “Now you enjoy yourself, Peter.”
She brushed past him, but not without stopping to kiss his cheek. Peter once more kept himself from rolling his eyes.
Puck looked up at Peter, but at the last moment, he turned his gaze away, almost flinching.
Peter frowned. Compulsion? He fears that?
“Let me show you to a room,” Puck said, holding out his hand for Peter to take. His nails were painted a dark, shimmery purple.
Instead of keeping his cool, as they said these days, Peter blurted, “I won’t compel you.”
Puck’s cheeks flushed pink. “I’m not—I… A-anything particular you’d like in the room?”
Peter found no joy in letting others squirm unnecessarily, so he took Puck’s hand.
“No. Just a place where you can rest comfortably after.”
Puck, his bottom lip held tightly between his teeth, looked up at Peter, meeting his eyes. It clearly took a lot for him to hold Peter’s gaze.
“Of course. Please follow me upstairs.”