Chapter 21
Shane
The deep, bass beat pounded through my skull, and lights flashed brightly enough that I had to squint.
I’d learned to temper my newly increased senses and was therefore able to filter out most of the extraneous noise and lights of the club.
But it became exhausting after so many hours.
I glanced at my watch. One am. Damn, another two hours until the club closed for the night.
I glanced over at Bal, and my whole body heated even as my brows dipped.
His dark hair gleamed in the multicoloured lights, his beautiful eyes observing the lesser beings that mingled below him, oblivious to his scrutiny; all except those secured with shining silver chains to the floor-to-ceiling poles.
They glared up, their eyes filled with either hatred or fear.
Punishment at Count Balthazar’s pleasure was cruel and never quick.
My shrug was internal. They should have considered that before they went against him.
My preferred modes of justice, as an Alpha, had never been cleverly thought out or prolonged, unlike what the vampires favoured.
Mine were perhaps more violent but ultimately just as effective. And on occasion, permanent.
Bal’s jaw tightened, even though he appeared relaxed, and surveyed his domain with all the confidence of an apex predator.
If I hadn’t observed him so closely for months and learned all the little nuances of emotion that no one else caught, I might have missed his reaction to the three men who were leaning against a wall observing him—and me.
When their attention turned to Sor, I tensed, too.
They’d been watching us all night from different positions in the club.
The shadows where they stood now were probably the darkest. Maybe the dipshits were too thick to realise Bal could see through the shadows.
As could I. I’d ignored them, accustomed to the unwanted attention I got working in the Gambit three nights a week.
I was a curiosity, a monster that shouldn’t exist. I knew that, and mostly brushed off the stares.
So far, no one had been stupid enough to challenge me, but it was only a matter of time.
It didn’t matter why. Maybe they thought it would prove their power, or perhaps they had a beef with the Count and wanted to take away what they thought was one of his favoured pets.
I huffed a chuckle. Perhaps I would let my blood-hungry wolf loose and rip their throats out. Gods knew I was starved enough to. I’d taken Sor’s blood a few times, but I’d not fed from Bal since before he’d fucked us into oblivion, and I was feeling the lack.
My chest ached at the distance Bal had created, and I glanced at Sor as I rubbed at it with a clenched fist. She was the one holding me together. I was so glad I hadn’t confessed my feelings for Bal, especially now it was clear that the night in his office hadn’t meant anything to him.
I shook away my hurt. It didn’t matter. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.
It had been nearly two weeks since that night, yet I was like an addict who couldn’t get enough.
I was acutely aware of his presence, of his movements.
Even his scent filtered through the mixed stench of stale club air, making me ache to go and bury my face in his neck.
Sor’s blood was sweet and addictive, and certainly enough to keep me sated for almost a full day without feeding again, but I craved the power of Bal’s.
His spicy, rich taste was like nothing else.
I wanted his firm touch, his cock in my mouth as he spilt down my throat, his rock-hard flesh pounding my body until I shook…
But more than that, I craved the softness that he’d shown us that night.
I wanted to be held close and absorb his strength, his warmth, that feeling of safety as he held us…
I blinked. Jesus, I was truly fucked. Sor was my mate, and I loved her, but we’d agreed it felt as if a part of us was missing when Bal wasn’t with us.
Sor looked tired as she flitted around behind the bar.
The dark circles under her eyes were plain enough that I couldn’t stop a spike of guilt.
I’d put them there. She needed time to recover from my demands, yet I’d wanted her as badly as ever, and in the absence of Bal, I’d hardly given her any peace.
Her resilience to my need to feed and fuck surprised me, even though she looked exhausted.
Perhaps it was because she had Bal’s blood in her system now, but despite her quick recovery time, she was still human.
And I wasn’t. A familiar stab of anger tightened my chest. Bal knew my appetite and hunger were more voracious than any other fledgling’s, and still, he’d avoided me.
He’d left Sor to deal with my need for blood, and he knew how dangerous that was.
Perhaps it was time to find a different blood source?
The blood bank, maybe? It was my only option since the thought of sinking my fangs into anyone other than my lovers made me shudder.
The three men were still fixed under Bal’s gaze, but they ignored him.
Either they hadn’t noticed his attention or didn’t care.
Which was not only stupid but really fucking strange.
No one deliberately goaded Count Rossi and got away unscathed.
One of them nudged the others, and they finished their drinks and pushed away from the wall.
I shuffled my feet into a relaxed but ready stance, hoping they’d attack.
My wolf rumbled his agreement. If they’d come to test the monster's abilities, then I was up for it. Bal didn’t have to fight my battles.
I’d always fought my own, and I needed to be seen as more than just his pet project or a current fuck buddy who needed protection.
I’d survived years in a supernatural prison, run by a demon lord who used fights to the death for entertainment.
I’d survived and become Alpha of the Canadian pack and fought for their safety.
And I’d conquered being blood raped by evil fucking vampires.
I was a fighter, but since working in the club, I just felt like a fucking freak show.
Sor continued smiling at her customers, far more confident than she had been a few weeks ago, despite us both being wrapped up in emotional knots because of Bal.
He’d not joined us in bed since that night, but I often woke to his scent in the room.
Sometimes, he would sit in the chair watching us with his signature intense look, his eyes glinting eerily in the dim light.
If I were a monster, then Bal was an apex predator built of shadows and stealth, one who would wait patiently for his opportunity to strike.
And strike he did—at my fucking heart, every time he locked eyes with me, or gave me a command to touch Sor, or just drawled my name.
It was dangerous to feel anything for him; I knew that.
But I’d already lost the war between my heart and my common sense.
He usually left at dawn. I had no real idea where to, but I suspected his absences were about the latest intel on the Mades.
Outbreaks of the Blood Lust virus were spreading like wildfire throughout the UK and Europe.
Walker, as the current leader of the Supernatural Bureau of Investigation, and Connor, along with all the Shadow Sentinel squads he commanded, were fighting the war on all sides.
Even the Prince Regent of Faery was involved, providing weapons and warriors to particularly hard-hit areas.
The last outbreak was in Manchester, which had taken Bal away for the past five days, and I hadn’t had a chance to see him since he’d returned. It wasn’t my place to worry about him, but I did. So did Sorcha.
The men moved closer to the bar, weaving through the crowd.
Vito’s dark gaze followed their progress from where he stood at the edge of the room.
He looked bored, yet I knew he was anything but.
He was Bal’s protection, along with the ten other security vamps Dav had positioned around this part of the club.
Even more of them blended into the crowd near the fight ring.
I’d seen them. They were in plain clothes, but I recognised their faces from the castle estate.
Dav also walked the floor, looking for any potential threats.
He caught Bal’s gaze as he approached the three buddies.
They were close enough that with my enhanced vision, I could see their eyes.
I frowned. They didn’t glow blue and red.
These idiots weren’t Mades; they were human.
Bal gave a shake of his head, and Dav continued on until he passed through the velvet curtain into the part of the club where darker, more debauched past times took place. The men watched him disappear before they continued on.
Bal’s eyes roamed over to the bar, checking on Sor before he passed his attention over me, not stopping or greeting me in any way.
Fucker.
My chest tightened. He’d been back for hours, yet he’d not bothered to come to the swanky penthouse apartment on the edge of Hyde Park.
And being ignored by him, no matter how busy he was, pissed me off, not just for me but also for Sorcha.
She hadn’t said anything, but the droop of her shoulders when we got here for work and she realised he was back, and that he hadn’t even bothered to say hello, had started anger bubbling in my gut. And it was still there.
The penthouse was a far cry from any city digs I’d stayed in before. Truth be told, it was so luxurious, it made me feel out of place. Still, it was far better than flying to Scotland and back three nights a week. Even in a luxury helicopter, that journey was a ball ache.